NEW - NOIR EXTREME WRESTLING

Hana_Jeong: I sit on the edge of my bed, staring at the wall. The small flat feels even smaller tonight, heavy with silence. Across from me, Sara is on her bed too, knees pulled up, eyes fixed somewhere far away. We don’t talk. We can’t. Just two years ago, we were strangers from different countries, chasing the same dream: becoming pro wrestlers. I left South Korea, she left Spain, and somehow we ended up in Tokyo, far from home, trying to make it in Stardom. We were rookies among rookies, learning, falling, getting up, helping each other survive the strange language, the long training, the tiny flats. Now it all comes down to tomorrow. The rising star tournament we joined… we both made it to the final. Few thousands of Japanese fans in the main show, bright lights, a trophy, and a contract to join the main roster. One of us will win it all. One of us will go home. And the thought is unbearable. I want to speak, to tell her how much I hope she’ll succeed, to tell her I don’t want to fight her, not really. But the words won’t come. The tension sits between us like a wall. I hear her breathing, slow and controlled, trying to stay calm. I do the same, though it doesn’t help. (to continue)

Hana_Jeong: I close my eyes and picture the ring, the lights, the crowd, the trophy. Everything we’ve worked for, everything we dreamed about when we left our countries, when we shared noodles and struggles in this tiny Tokyo flat. And yet the closer I get to it in my mind, the heavier my chest feels. Because tomorrow, we won’t be friends. Not for a moment. Tomorrow, one of us will have to leave. I get some courage to break the ice "Are we you going to remain silent forever?"

Sara_León: I sit on my bed, knees pulled in and wrapped in my arms, in a fetal position, completely still. My head is a whirlwind, thousands of memories rushing through me. Our time in Tokyo felt like a dream, an ideal life built around something that, suddenly, I’m not even sure I really wanted. I try to think about tomorrow’s match, about what’s at stake, about my future… about you… But my mind keeps drifting back to Spain — to my family, my friends… to how much I miss that life, and how hard it would be to face their sympathetic looks, the words of comfort for having failed. I want to go back there, but not like this…

Sara_León: And then you speak, pulling me out of my thoughts. I look into your eyes — that gaze that always used to be a well of comfort for me, now turned into a source of inner conflict. Damn it, your journey has been harder than mine, what right do I have to take away what you deserve? I start to feel like a horrible person just for feeling what I feel, and I answer in a whisper: “I…” I what? I don’t even know what to say to you. My cheeks flush with embarrassment and I look away again, hugging my knees even tighter… “I’m sorry”

Hana_Jeong: I shake my head slowly. “You don’t need to be sorry,” I say. My voice sounds steady, even though my chest feels tight. . It feels like you’re already drifting away, like you’re bracing yourself for the end. I don’t blame you, but it hurts more than I expect. It makes me feel like tomorrow has already taken something from us. I look at you and see everything we shared in Tokyo. The long days at training. The bruises we compared in the mirror. The late nights in this tiny flat, talking about our dreams like they were guaranteed. I want to tell you how much you mean to me, how scared I am of losing you like this. But if I say it, I know I won’t be able to stop. So I force myself to sound distant. “Tomorrow is no holds barred,” I say quietly. “Falls count everywhere. We can’t think about anything else.” The words feel cold, even to me, but I cling to them. They’re the only thing holding me together. The silence comes back, heavier than before. I feel my throat tighten. I know if I keep looking at you, you’ll see it in my face. You’ll see me breaking. “Maybe we shouldn’t say anything else,” I add. “Not tonight.” I turn my back to you, pretending to go to sleep, facing the wall. As soon as you can’t see my face, my eyes burn. I bite my lip, forcing myself to stay quiet. I won’t let you hear me cry. I won’t let you carry that into tomorrow. Like if I was already in disadvantage. I reach for the lamp and turn it off. The room goes dark. With my back still turned, my voice comes out soft and unsteady. “Good night, Sara.”

Sara_León: A shiver runs through my body when you mention the type of match. We won’t even have the comfort of rules. Eventually one of us will break, and just thinking about it makes me want to disappear. I notice you avert your gaze and I look at you, but you turn away, saying it’s better not to talk. I nod slowly, stretching out on the bed

Sara_León: On the very night when I need you the most, when the only thing I really want is to hear your advice in a difficult situation, to hear your laughter in a bad moment, on this very night you choose to stay silent. Maybe it’s for the best… you’ve always been a better person than me. I feel a burning desire to ask you what you’re thinking, how you’re feeling, to have you tell me how you’re handling it, but the words won’t come. I was never as good as you at getting friends who need it to open up, so I keep a guilty silence

Sara_León: We finally remain in the dark and I quietly let the air escape. I wasn’t even aware I was holding my breath… damn tension… Your voice trembles in the darkness, wishing me good night. “Good night, Hana…” but I can’t leave it at that, and I add: “Thank you for everything.” My voice breaks slightly, and I try to hide it by slipping under the sheets, getting into position to sleep and turning toward the window as well. I don’t even know if I’ll be able to sleep tonight...

Hana_Jeong: Her words hit me harder than anything she could ever do to me in the ring. “Thank you for everything.” That’s when I break. My shoulders start shaking before I can stop them. I press my face into the pillow, but it doesn’t help. The sob comes out anyway, ugly and weak, nothing like the Hana everyone sees at training. I try to hold it in. I really do. But it’s too late now. “I can’t do this…” I whisper, my voice cracking in the dark. I turn slightly, still not facing you, because I don’t want you to see me like this. “You shouldn’t have said that. You really shouldn’t have said anything.” I wipe my face with my sheet, breathing hard. “I was holding it together. Barely. And now I’m not.” My chest hurts. Everything hurts. You were always the strong one. The tough one. When things got hard, you didn’t break. I was the sweet one. That’s how it worked. We balanced each other. I finally curl in on myself, like I’m trying to disappear. “You’re not just my roommate, Sara. You’re my sister.” The word feels too big, too true. I cover my face with both hands. I can’t hide anymore. There’s no point. “I can’t stop now. I can’t pretend. I wanted to protect myself from this, from you seeing me like this before the match.” My voice drops to a broken whisper. “But now I’m completely shattered.” The room stays dark. Quiet. Except for me crying.

Sara_León: Every word of yours hits me harder. I listen to you, eyes open but with my back turned to you. I feel a terrible urge to get up and hug you, to tell you that everything is fine, that everything will turn out okay… even to apologize to you. But damn it, you’re absolutely right, I shouldn’t have said anything. I bite my lip hard as my eyes start to water, waiting for you to finally stop talking. I feel the impulse to tell you to shut up, but the least I can do for you is let you vent, so I stay silent

Sara_León: Now I know what you’re thinking, and a part of me starts to consider that this is an advantage for my match tomorrow. I try to push those thoughts away, but my more rational side keeps thinking about how lucky I am to know my opponent’s greatest weaknesses in the most important match of my life. I grip the sheets in anger, cursing myself for thinking like that while I hear you opening up and breaking down in front of me, and when you finally fall silent I bless the quiet, knowing that I’m not going to respond to any of that, for the good of both of us

Sara_León: I hear you crying, and I put the pillow over my head so I don’t hear you… just wishing I could stop thinking and manage to fall asleep

Hana_Jeong: Her silence hurts more than if she had yelled at me. I turn my head slightly and look over my shoulder. You’re facing the window, still, covered by the sheets. From here it looks like you’re already asleep. Maybe you’re pretending. Maybe you really are. Either way, it feels like I’m completely alone. I tell myself this is how it should be. We didn’t come to Japan to make friends. We came here to chase a dream. I know that. I understand it. Still, my chest feels heavy with shame. I feel stupid. Weak. Naive for thinking our bond could survive something like this. I quietly reach into my bag and take a pill. I just want the noise in my head to stop. I lie down with my back to you, staring into the darkness, my eyes burning. Sleep comes slowly, shallow and broken. When I wake up the next morning, the flat is quiet. Your bed is empty. I sit up, confused at first, then it sinks in. You’re already gone. I stay sitting there for a long time, staring at nothing. I don’t cry anymore. I feel hollow. The day passes strangely. I barely eat. A few bites, nothing more. Time moves, but I don’t feel present in it. My thoughts keep looping back to last night. To everything I said. To how I couldn’t stop myself. By the time it’s night, my stomach hurts, my hands feel cold, and my heart won’t slow down. It’s 9 p.m. I grab my small sports bag, check that everything is there, and step out of the flat for the last time. The subway ride feels endless. When I finally reach the arena, my heart is pounding so hard it feels like it’s trying to escape my chest.

Sara_León: When I get up and see that you’re still asleep, I quickly gather my things and get ready to leave. It’s better not to interact anymore until tonight, I tell myself. Before doing so, however, I can’t help but cover you a bit better with the sheets. Cursing under my breath, I leave you in the room and head out. Knowing you, the last place you’d want to go today is the gym where we trained together so many times, so I go straight there. I spend the entire morning training, moving, not pushing myself too hard but trying to clear my head, to release all the pent-up frustration. I eat hungrily there at the gym, and then I go for a walk around the city to distract myself. My head is a constant battle against memories and thoughts. I keep unlocking my phone, hoping you’ve written to me, even though I’d really hate it if you had. Nothing at all, total silence. I don’t dare write to you either. When night comes, I head to the arena, on foot, physically and mentally exhausted but with an enormous inner fire that I don’t know how to channel. I go to the locker room and put on my wrestling gear...

Hana_Jeong: I arrive at the arena before you. I don’t know if it’s on purpose or just instinct, but I’m glad. I need the time alone. The locker room is quiet when I step inside, almost cold. I put my bag down and sit for a moment, breathing slowly, trying to calm my heart. It doesn’t work. I start getting ready. First the gear. I pull on my light pink sports bra, then the light grey trunks. My hands feel clumsy. Under the trunks, I carefully adjust the skin-tone stockings, smoothing them up my thighs. Every small movement feels heavy, like my body is made of stone. I slide on my black knee pads next, tugging them into place, then my elbow pads. I sit down to pull on my wrestling shoes, lacing them slowly, one eyelet at a time. My fingers shake a little. When they’re tight, I pull the black kickpads over them. Everything feels tighter than usual. More real. I stand up and look at myself in the mirror. I barely recognize the girl staring back. I do my makeup quietly, nothing fancy. Just enough to look ready. Just enough to look strong. Inside, I feel anything but. That’s when the locker room door opens. I see you in the mirror before I hear you. My heart instantly starts racing, so fast it scares me. My breath catches in my throat. For a second, I forget where I am. Forget the match. Forget the crowd. It’s just you and me again, like last night, like this morning. I don’t turn around right away. I keep my eyes on the mirror, afraid that if I look at you directly, I’ll fall apart all over again. My reflection looks tense, frozen. You’re here. And suddenly, everything I managed to hold together all day feels like it’s about to collapse.

Sara_León: I freeze when I see you in front of the mirror, your reflection staring at me intensely. Not again... I notice that you freeze too, and I shake my head, raising my voice and forcing some indifference "Oh, you’re here already..." I drop the bag on a bench and start undressing slowly, watching how you still don’t move. "Aren’t you going to say anything??" I say, with some frustration at your silence. I put on my green top, my green short, my wristbands, and start putting on the kneepads too. "I took a walk around the city, you know? Maybe it’s the last time I see it, after all..." I let out an incredibly awkward laugh, tugging at my boots so they reach my knees as I start tying them. My fingers are trembling, but I trust you won’t even notice

Hana_Jeong: I swallow hard and finally turn toward you. My mouth opens, but for a second nothing comes out. My hands are shaking, and I don’t even try to hide it. “…What do you want me to say?” I ask quietly. My voice breaks on the last word, and I hate myself for it. I take a step closer, then stop, like I’m afraid of crossing some invisible line. “After last night… after you didn’t say anything… I didn’t think you wanted to hear me.” I let out a short, unsteady breath. “So no. I didn’t go anywhere today.” I look down, then back up at you, my eyes already burning. “I stayed home. All day.” My words come faster now, less controlled. “Maybe it’s the last time I’ll ever be there...The noodles. The late talks about boys, about training, about everything.” My voice trembles badly now. “That place isn’t just a place to me. It’s… it’s where I lived my dream with you.” I press my lips together, trying not to cry again. I fail. “I can’t pretend I’m okay,” I whisper. “I’m not tough like you. I never was. I’m fragile, and tonight… tonight scares me more than anything.” I shake my head slowly. “So if you wanted me to act normal, or cold, or focused… I can’t. I just can’t.” I look at you fully now, eyes wet, exposed. “That’s all I have to say.”

Sara_León: I stare at you intently while you speak. Once again the urge to hug you comes over me, but, being honest with myself, what good would that do? I hold your gaze, pretending all the coldness I can, and slowly stand up, moving closer to you as you talk. When I reach where you are, I cross my arms, waiting for you to finish speaking. Once you do, I stay there for a second, looking at you, with the freshly applied makeup smeared by recent tears. I try with all my strength to hold back mine. I was determined to do you one last favor. Suddenly, I give you a brutal slap across the cheek. Dry, without warning, straight on. Then I grab your face and force you to look at me, saying in firm words: “Listen to me carefully, Hana, because I’m not going to repeat anything I’m about to tell you. You are the best wrestler I’ve ever known. You are fast, agile, intelligent, and you have a gift for wrestling. You have the opportunity of your life, and you cannot waste it, do you hear me? So right now you are going to stop crying like a little girl, you are going to get yourself mentally ready, and you are going to go out to that ring and give it everything against whoever you’re facing. You are going to destroy that girl, you are going to put on the show of your life, and you are going to make the roster. And there is nothing and no one capable of stopping you, understood?” I let go of your cheek and move toward the bench to grab a white cloth, and I throw it at you. “And for the love of God, your makeup has run from the tears. Clean yourself up, you’re disgusting. I don’t want the audience to see you like that...” And I quickly head toward a sink on the other side of the locker room, leaving you with the words in your mouth, with a firm stride. I plant myself in front of the mirror and start taking out my makeup things, but my hands are shaking and I have to stop to breathe, hoping you aren’t looking at me

Hana_Jeong: For a second, I don’t recognize you. When your hand hits my cheek, the sound is sharp and dry, echoing in my head. I don’t even feel the pain right away. I just freeze. When you grab my face and force me to look at you, I see someone else in your eyes. Not my sister. Not my roommate. Not the girl who shared noodles with me on the floor. My opponent. The toughest opponent I’ve ever faced. Your words crash into me one after another, heavy and merciless. I hear them, all of them, but my body doesn’t react. I can’t speak. I can’t even nod. When you finally let go of me, my legs give out. I drop to my knees. The tears come immediately, hot and uncontrollable. I cover my face, ashamed, broken, humiliated by how weak I feel. When the white cloth hits my chest, I flinch. I grab it quickly and wipe my face hard, almost violently, erasing the tears, the makeup, everything. I won’t let you see me like this again. I push myself up and walk toward the exit. My movements feel mechanical. At the door, I stop. I turn back and look at you one last time, standing at the mirror, your back straight, pretending not to shake. I don’t say anything. Then I’m gone.

Hana_Jeong: Behind the red curtains, the noise of the arena crashes over me like a wave. My heart is pounding so hard I can hear it in my ears. A staff member looks at me and nods. “Get ready. You’re next.” I take a breath. Then another. I kiss my taped right wrist, right where I keep the small folded picture of my parents. “Just a little more,” I whisper. I adjust my elbow pad, roll my shoulders, and step forward. The music hits. Holy Wars – Battery Life. The curtain opens, and the lights blind me for a second. I walk slowly toward the ring, every step heavy, every sound amplified. The crowd is there. Thousands of people. This is real now. I slide under the bottom rope and stand up. The Japanese referee takes the mic and announces my name and stats in Japanese. I barely understand the words, but I hear my name clearly. Hana Jeong. I give a small, shy wave to the audience.

Sara_León: I wring my hands nervously, waiting for my turn. I hear the crowd cheering for you, I hear your name announced. “Yeah, she definitely deserves it…” I whisper to myself, trying to control the trembling in my hands. “I hope you don’t freeze up there, Hana, because I won’t know what to do.” I desperately hope that my earlier harshness snaps you out of it, that you forget who I am and focus on what’s at stake. I can handle facing a good opponent, but I can’t do it with you like this—so broken. The voice of the staff member pulls me out of my thoughts, and I exhale, nodding as I prepare for my own entrance...

Sara_León: An explosion of lights, colors, and a loud roar from the crowd hits me all at once as I cross the curtains, but it doesn’t blind me… On the contrary, it actually transports me to another dimension, the one that makes me feel fully alive. I smile and raise my arms, shouting and hyping up the crowd, letting myself soak up all that energy. For a few seconds, I stop being Sara and become The Red Lioness, that part of me I only show in the ring. I slap the hands of every fan along the ramp, running with energy toward the ring, and leap onto the apron with ease, grabbing the ropes to pull myself up and slide between them into the ring. I steal a glance at you, and my fantasy crumbles completely… What am I doing? Do I really want to fight you? Your tears, your words of pain pound in my head. Am I capable of hurting you at your weakest moment? Do I have the courage to take advantage of you? How could I let you come to this ring without even giving you a damn hug? Guilt crashes down on me like a massive weight, crushing my spirit and shifting my expression from frantic joy to deep suffering, but I force myself to keep smiling and continue my entrance, looking away and climbing the turnbuckle, one hand behind my back and the other raised high, hyping up the crowd and nodding to the rhythm of the music

Hana_Jeong: I force myself to breathe while your music plays. I don’t look at you. I can’t. If I do, everything will collapse again. Instead, I stretch my arms, then my legs. I bend down and pull my black knee pads up, even though they’re already in place. I adjust them carefully, slowly, just to keep my hands busy. Just to focus on something that isn’t you. The ring feels solid under my feet. Real. This is where I belong. The crowd is loud, fully locked into this moment. I hear your name. I hear the cheers. I tell myself over and over: She’s not Sara. She’s my opponent. The referee steps closer and motions for us to come to the center. She speaks in Japanese, calm but firm. I don’t understand every word, but I know what she’s saying. Rules. Or the lack of them. No holds barred. Falls count everywhere. This is the final. I finally lift my head. I look straight into your green eyes. For a heartbeat, everything else disappears. The flat. The noodles. The tears. The slap. All of it fades away. I straighten my back. I’m not the silly, cute Korean girl who cried in the locker room. I’m not your little sister. I’m not broken anymore. I’m Hana. Hana Jeong. The Korean high flyer. And right now, you’re not Sara. You’re the woman standing between me and my dream.

Sara_León: I walk to the center of the ring, eyes down, focused, listening to the referee. I catch a few stray words, but the important stuff was explained to us a long time ago. I try to make this protocol moment pass as quickly as possible for me, so I can throw myself into the action and silence the accusatory voices in my head, but then... Suddenly I feel your gaze on me. I lift my eyes and meet yours. A direct look, cold, piercing. "Finally..." I think with an almost imperceptible sigh of relief. This is the Hana I’ve known in the ring. Determined, relentless, fierce. I can hurt the woman standing in front of me. A smile begins to form on my face, thinking of your strength, proud that you’ve managed to overcome the situation, but suddenly I realize something... I’ve lit the fire in Hana Jeong, I’ve thrown her into a ring and told her to destroy her opponent, and I’ve done it firmly believing she can. But that opponent is me, and this match is the most decisive of my life. The smile dies on my lips before it’s complete, as my gaze shifts from pride to terror. I’m about to face a terrible opponent, with my future at stake, and I hadn’t thought about that until this moment. I think again of Spain, of my career, of my future, without breaking eye contact with you, thinking that I’ll have to defeat one of the best wrestlers I know to achieve what I truly want. I swallow hard, just as the referee sends us back to our corners. I look away from you and walk back to my corner with my head down, my mind a whirlwind

Hana_Jeong: As you turn your back on me and start walking to your corner, something snaps inside my chest. I step forward before the referee can even finish her gesture. I grab your arm and spin you back toward me. Your eyes widen just enough for me to see it. My hand cracks across your face. The sound echoes through the arena, sharp and unmistakable. The crowd gasps, then erupts. I feel the sting in my palm, but I do not hesitate for a second. I close the distance immediately, wrapping my arm around your head and pulling you down into a tight headlock, my body pressed against yours, my feet planted firmly on the mat.

Sara_León: I feel your hand grab my arm and I turn, for a second thinking you're going to say something before we begin. But the moment I look at you, I see your hand coming toward my face and my eyes go wide before -- SMACK!! -- I take a painful slap across the cheek. My head snaps to the side like a whip, my face stunned and my hands going to the reddened cheek, but before I can react you trap my head in a headlock, and I bend forward in front of you, my head caught, still very confused by the speed of your moves. The bell hasn't even rung yet, and you already have the advantage

Hana_Jeong: I feel you tense under my arm immediately. You start to struggle, trying to straighten up, trying to break free before I can settle my weight. I grit my teeth and tighten my grip, locking my hands together and lowering my center of gravity. My forearm presses firmly against the side of your head, my bicep squeezing in, cutting off space and movement. You twist, your boots scraping against the canvas, but I drag you with me step by step toward the center of the ring. It is slow. Heavy. Every inch feels earned. The crowd is loud now, reacting to the sudden intensity, but I barely hear them. All my focus is on keeping you trapped. When we reach the middle, I shift my hips and drop backward, snapping you down hard onto the mat. I land seated, pulling you with me, your head still locked tightly under my arm. The impact rattles through my body, but I adjust instantly, scooting back just enough to keep the pressure exactly where I want it. I squeeze harder, my legs spread wide for balance, my boots digging into the canvas. I can feel your breathing change. I can feel your body tense, searching for an escape. I lean back slightly, increasing the pressure

Sara_León: I struggle with all my strength against you, without much success. My hands press against your arms, and my feet are forced to follow you as I writhe and moan in your sudden hold, my head compressed and letting out soft, spontaneous whimpers, muffled by the noise of the crowd. Suddenly, you shift your center of gravity and I find myself thrown forward, tumbling... "Woah!!" and falling to the mat with you. I try to roll away from you, but with the slightest movement I realize I’m still trapped, so I keep struggling against you, tensing every muscle in my body and starting to pant. I move to the left, then to the right... I test every position to find a weak point in your hold and break free, and when you increase the pressure I let out a small squeal, muffled under your arm, sounding dull. After testing the shift in position, I try throwing my arms toward you, first probing, then deciding which spot is best to start hitting

Hana_Jeong: I feel you moving constantly under me, smart, patient, testing the hold instead of panicking. Your resistance forces me to adjust again and again, and little by little I feel the tension in my arms start to burn. I squeeze once more, trying to keep control, but I know I cannot hold this forever. I shift my weight, loosening the headlock just enough to move. As you start to bring your arms up, looking for a way to strike, I release the pressure on your head and quickly thread my legs around your waist instead. I roll my hips, pulling you in tight as I cross my ankles behind your lower back. I lock in the body scissors. My calves squeeze in, my thighs clamping down as I lean back slightly, using my core instead of my arms now. One hand stays on your shoulder, the other on the mat to keep balance. My breathing is heavy, but controlled.

Sara_León: I gasp for air as you release my head, the bell finally ringing, though it doesn’t make much of a difference in my situation. Before I can move, your legs coil around my waist like snakes, and I feel a strong pull toward you, ending up on my knees on the mat, with you in front of me and barely able to move. I grit my teeth and place both hands on your knees, pushing down with all my strength, trying to make you release the hold. Your calves dig into my sides, setting my entire midsection on fire, holding onto me like a leech. I can’t even try to get closer to you, with your arm in the way, and all I can do is moan in pain and keep pushing at your knees. Eventually, I decide to try to stand up. I wrap my arms around your legs and begin to bend one knee, planting the sole of my boot on the mat, and if I manage it, I try to rise with the other one too, which would leave you hanging from my body, clinging to my waist with your legs

Hana_Jeong: The moment you start to rise, panic shoots through me. I feel your body lifting, my legs still locked around your waist but my control slipping fast. My grip is no longer dominant, it’s desperate. My calves burn, my core tightens, and suddenly the mat is farther away than it should be. “Ahhh!” I scream as my back peels off the canvas. My hands clutch at your sides instinctively, not to attack, not to control, just to hold on. My legs are still crossed, but the pressure is uneven now, weaker, and I know it. My body sways as you straighten up, my weight dragging down from your hips, my feet scraping uselessly against the air. I feel completely out of control.

Sara_León: I still feel trapped, struggling to breathe from the squeeze of your legs, but as I lift myself up, I know I have the control. Now I just need to find the most painful way to make you let go. Seeing you lean upward slightly to cling to my sides, I grab your wrists with both hands and pull, lifting you even higher, leaving you almost sitting. I cross your arms to keep control of your body and walk to position myself in the center of the ring, where I try to drop down, throwing your whole body forward, hoping to slam your back and head in an improvised powerbomb, and make you stop applying that infernal pressure on me

Hana_Jeong: My back slams into the mat with a brutal BAAAM, the air exploding out of my lungs on impact. “RRRGHHH!” The groan tears out of me before I can stop it. Pain shoots through my spine and radiates up into my neck. My body arches hard off the canvas on instinct, muscles locking as I clutch at my lower back, my face twisting as I gasp for breath. For a second everything blurs, the lights above me shaking, the crowd’s noise crashing in all at once. I roll onto my side, then try to keep going, desperate to create space between us. My legs are weak, unsteady, not responding the way I want them to. I drag myself away, forearms scraping against the mat as I try to put distance between your boots and my body. Every breath hurts. My back feels like it’s on fire. I curl slightly as I roll, one hand still pressed against my spine, teeth clenched tight as I force myself to move, knowing I cannot stay where I fell.

Sara_León: I exhale in relief when you release my waist, rolling away from you and bringing my hands to my sides, gritting my teeth and staying on the mat for a few seconds, catching my breath, until I see you crawling away from me. Hitting my sides, I force myself to stand and chase after you, fully aware that I can’t give you a single second of rest if I don’t want to end up trapped again. With every step I take, you move farther and farther, so I stop and decide to run toward the opposite ropes, where I bounce off, the ropes digging into my back, and I launch myself running at you. I see you’ve managed to get up on your knees against the ropes, so as I reach your position, I shout and throw myself into the air, bending my knee and driving it forward, trying to crush your head with it!

Hana_Jeong: I barely have time to turn my head before I hear you shout. I’m still on my knees, one arm hooked over the bottom rope, trying to pull myself up, my back screaming with every movement. When I look up, you’re already airborne. Your knee crashes into me hard. The impact snaps my head back and drives me down to the mat again. My body folds and I let out a sharp cry of pain as my hands instinctively go to my face and chest. The ropes shake behind me as I collapse sideways, rolling onto my back, then curling slightly, stunned. Everything feels slow for a moment. My ears ring. My vision blurs at the edges. I breathe in sharply, then cough, trying to recover air that just isn’t there yet. I roll onto my side, one knee drawn up, the other leg stretched out, clearly hurt. My free hand presses against the mat as I try to push myself up again, but I don’t make it far. I stay low, shaken, feeling the momentum completely shift.

Sara_León: --¡CRACKK!!-- The sound of my knee colliding with your skull sends a chill through me, and from the momentum I end up landing on the ropes themselves, my knee slipping between them and my arms and head hanging over the top rope, while you collapse gradually at my feet. I stay there, motionless, for a few seconds, gasping and catching my breath. I turn to look at you, and I bite my lip. I glance at ringside and scan it, thinking about bringing a weapon into the ring, but I look back at you and shake my head, peeling myself off the ropes and walking toward you. With luck, I’ll be able to finish this without needing to leave the ring. I crouch down to grab your black hair, and I yank it upward, pulling you toward me and trying to tuck your head under my armpit, wrapping my arm around your neck

Hana_Jeong: My scalp burns as you yank me up by the hair. My legs barely hold me, my back still screaming, my head spinning, but I force myself upright. When your arm slides around my head and pulls me in under your armpit, I feel the pressure closing in again. I refuse to stop. I pull my arm back and drive my elbow hard into your abs. Then again. And again. Each strike comes from pure instinct, my body acting before my mind can doubt itself. I hear you grunt as the air leaves your lungs, your grip loosening just enough. I slip free and stagger forward, then turn it into movement. I run. The ropes rush toward me and I throw myself into them, feeling them press into my back before launching me forward again. My legs respond, light despite the pain, muscle memory taking over. I sprint straight back at you, jump, and swing my legs up around your head, twisting my hips as I try to snap you down into a head scissors takedown. For a brief moment, I am airborne again, trusting my body, trusting the part of me that knows how to fly.

Sara_León: "Ugh!! Offff!! Ungh!!" Your strikes land squarely in my abdomen, doubling me over and indeed loosening the grip on your neck. You slip from my hold like an eel and vanish from my view in an instant. I clutch my abs, twisting around to see where you’ve gone, and suddenly I see you coming at me like a missile... and leaping with unnatural force, clamping your legs around my head so tightly that, as you swing, it feels like you're about to rip it clean off, yanking my entire body upward and sending me flying in the opposite direction from yours, crashing thunderously onto the mat and tumbling like dead weight, pain shooting through every part of me. Groaning, I plant the palm of one hand against the canvas while my other hand reaches for the bottom rope, slowly trying to pull myself back to my feet

Hana_Jeong: I see you rolling toward the corner, hurt but stubborn, your hand reaching for the bottom rope as you try to pull yourself up. I stay low, watching you closely, every muscle coiled. My back still aches, my head still rings, but my legs feel ready again. I drop into a squat, breathing steady, eyes locked on you. The moment you turn and face me, I explode forward. I sprint the last steps and leap, both boots snapping out in front of me as I throw my weight into a running dropkick.

Sara_León: I manage to get to my feet slowly, expecting you to grab my hair at any moment, but it doesn’t happen... When I finally stand up completely, I see you in a crouch, waiting for me like a beast stalking its prey, with determined, predatory eyes... Nothing like the girl I ran into in the locker room. I throw myself at you then, but my strength betrays me, and you launch yourself at me with incredible energy, jumping and thrusting your boots forward —"UUUMMPPHHHHH!!!"— slamming them into my chest and catapulting me backward with such force that I crash into the ropes, bounce off, fall face-first to the mat, clutching my chest with both arms, gasping for breath, feeling the frantic beating of my heart, my chest burning

Hana_Jeong: I land on my feet and do not hesitate. I step in and grab a fistful of your hair, my fingers digging in as I force you up off the mat. You gasp, still clutching your chest, and I pull you upright until you are standing in front of me. “Get up, girl,” I say coldly. My voice does not shake this time. I do not wait for a response. I plant my foot, jump straight up from a standing position, and whip my body around you, snapping my legs up and around your head. My thighs clamp tight as I twist hard, using momentum and speed instead of strength. I throw my weight sideways, trying to whip you off balance and send you flying through the ropes performing some kind of a Tilt a Whirl Headscissors takedown.

Sara_León: "Get up, girl"... Those words hit my chest with more intensity than your dropkick... That coldness, that direct order, that display of dominance and indifference. A part of me rejoices thinking that you're going after your dream without regrets. Another feels sad, thinking that maybe you're angry with me, that maybe I was too harsh or I wasn't there for you at your worst moment. But the part of me that affects me the most is the one that's terrified, seeing that I'm merely an obstacle in the path of a wrestler as relentless as you... But those thoughts last only a fraction of a second. When you manage to pull me to my feet by my hair, you throw yourself at me and play in the air with my own center of gravity, swinging without me having any control over you. Your thighs cling to my head and finally, once the momentum is built, you throw me to the side, making me fly again, this time through the ropes... In a split second I realize that the height of the fall has doubled, and that the landing strip is not the mat... And I let out a scream of panic, quickly silenced by a huge --THHUUUDDD-- of my whole body against the wooden floor of the ringside

Hana_Jeong: I hear your body hit the floor outside the ring, that heavy sound echoing through the arena, and the crowd reacts instantly. I do not stop. I do not think. This is the moment. I step toward the ropes and look down at you. You are moving, slowly, pulling yourself up with the apron, one hand gripping the edge, the other the top rope. You are hurt, but you are still getting up. That is enough for me. I grab the top rope with both hands and step onto the apron, my boots finding the narrow space by instinct. The referee shouts something behind me, but it fades into the noise of the crowd. My heart is pounding so hard it feels like it might burst out of my chest. I turn my back to you. For a split second, everything goes quiet in my head. I know how dangerous this is. I know the risk. But I also know why I came to Japan. Why I left everything behind. I give everything I have. I spring off the ropes, arching backward into the air, my body flipping high and fast. The lights spin above me, the crowd rising as one. I spot you at the last possible moment and extend my body fully, committing to the lionsault as I attempt to crash down toward you at ringside...

Sara_León: With all my limbs trembling, I start to get up. I know I have to get out of here, but my strength fails me. I don’t even see what you’re doing. Slowly, I manage to stand and lift my gaze. And then I see you in mid-air. Majestic, free, magnificent, relentless. The crowd roaring at that daring move that I know is already part of your DNA. In a split second, I remember the conversations where you told me that those seconds in the air made you feel free, happy, yourself. And then you land on me, crushing my face, my chest, my arms, my abdomen... Knocking me down completely, smashing me against the cold wood of the ringside, slamming my head and back, and ending up sprawled over my body, turned into a ragdoll and unable to move from the pain, the lights blinding me, while I flail one arm erratically, finding your body and trying to push it off mine, with barely any strength

Hana_Jeong: The moment I hit you, something inside me finally releases. The impact is massive. My chest and abs burn on contact, a sharp pain exploding through me as I land, but the relief is immediate and overwhelming. I am breathing hard, almost shaking, sprawled on top of you. The crowd is roaring somewhere above us, but for a second all I feel is that I connected. I flew. I landed. I did it. You took the worst of it. I feel your body under mine, heavy, flattened against the wooden floor. Your arm moves weakly, your hand pressing against my side, trying to push me away. There is no strength behind it. I let it happen for a moment, letting you feel that it does not work. Slowly, carefully, I roll off you and sit up, leaning my back against the guardrail. My ribs ache. My lungs burn. I drag in air one breath at a time, sweat dripping down my face. You lie next to me, barely moving. “I’m not done with you,” I say, my voice low and rough. I reach out with both hands and grab your hair, my fingers tangling in it as I pull you up inch by inch. My arms tremble from exhaustion, but I keep pulling until you are on your feet. I force you back against the guardrail, pressing you there, so close that the Japanese fans in the first row can see everything. They are silent, eyes wide, stunned by what they are witnessing. I lean in close, my face inches from yours. “Get up, bitch,” I say coldly. I lick the palm of my hand, feeling the sting of anticipation, then draw my arm back and swing it across your chest with full force, aiming to deliver a hard, echoing chop that cracks through the air and against your skin.

Sara_León: When you stand up, I stay motionless on the floor, gasping and sweating profusely. I hear your threatening, harsh, dominant voice. I swallow hard, trying to look at you but unable to find the angle, still dizzy. And then I feel your hands tangling in my red hair, pulling it... My head follows your movements as I grit my teeth in a sharp gesture of pain. My body barely responds, and each pull you give feels like dragging dead weight, but that only causes me more pain, so I make an effort to follow you and manage to get to my feet. You slam me against the guardrail, where I end up with my arms stretched out, my head tilted back, and my legs trembling, exposing my chest, rising and falling with each breath. I hear the murmurs in Japanese around me, but I also feel your relentless presence far too close. The phrase "Get up, bitch" runs through my entire body with a shiver, and my spirit crumbles along with my body, my face contorted in pain and my eyes beginning to well up. Hopefully, you won’t notice. Any sign that your tactics are working against me could be devastating. The worst part is, I don’t think it’s even a tactic — you say it from the heart, pure adrenaline and rage, which leaves me even more shattered

Sara_León: I see you lick the palm of your hand, and I hold my breath for a moment, closing my eyes and... --SMACKKKK!!-- Your licked hand crashes against my sweaty chest, producing a sound that echoes throughout the arena, knocking the breath right out of me and leaving a red imprint of your open hand. My eyes and mouth open wide, and I finally manage to gasp, while my knees buckle and I collapse in front of you, hands resting on your knees

Hana_Jeong: I grab your hair again and pull you up sharply, my hand trembling as much from exhaustion as from emotion. You’re on your knees in front of me, your weight sagging, and I yank your head back so you’re forced to look up at me. My chest tightens. My vision blurs. Tears slip down my face before I can stop them. I lean close to your ear, my voice shaking despite how hard I try to keep it firm. “You’ll never underestimate me again, Sara.” The words come out raw, almost breaking apart as I say them. This isn’t arrogance. It’s pain. It’s everything I swallowed to get here. I release your hair just long enough to pull my knee back. Then I drive it forward with everything I have. My knee slams hard into your abdomen, the impact deep and brutal. I feel your core give under the strike, feel the air leave your body as I hit you square in the abs. The sound is dull and heavy, the kind that echoes in your own bones.

Sara_León: Once again I feel my hair yanked upward and back. I end up standing, and you deny me the right to lower my head, pulling my hair back and exposing my pained, sorrowful, bruised face. I see you crying, but I no longer feel capable of processing emotions. With my chest burning, you speak to me again, raw and trembling. So this is how you feel? Underestimated? I feel your words like yet another defeat crashing down on me. I know your words are sincere, and that cuts me like a sharp knife. I’ve failed as a friend, and I’m about to fail as a wrestler too. You let go of my hair but your knee sinks into my abdomen with power, and I feel as if you’ve slammed me into the guardrail behind, like you’ve pierced through my guts. I double over completely, slumping onto your thigh, the last bit of air leaving my body, and I collapse against you, my insides burning, and tears finally starting to fall, silently. Since I’m still face down, at least you can’t see them

Hana_Jeong: For a moment, everything stops. You collapse against me, your weight heavy, your body shaking. I feel it. I feel you breaking, and that is what finally breaks me too. My hands let go and I drop to my knees beside you, both palms pressed hard against my sweaty face. Tears and sweat mix and drip down onto the floor. My chest rises and falls too fast, too shallow. What am I doing. Hana, stop. My head is screaming at me, louder than the crowd, louder than the referee. This is wrong. This is my best friend. This is the girl who shared my life here. And at the same time, another voice cuts through it all, cold and merciless. This is your job. Your job is to beat this girl. I squeeze my eyes shut and force myself to breathe. One breath. Then another. I lower my hands and look at you, bent over, helpless, crying where I cannot see it. If I hesitate now, everything we suffered for means nothing. I stand up. My hand goes back into your hair, fingers tightening as I pull you up again. My jaw clenches, my teeth grinding together as I turn you and drag you forward. You stumble, barely able to follow, your boots scraping uselessly against the floor as I haul you toward the steel steps. The fans gasp when they realize what I am about to do. I plant my feet, grip your hair tighter, and with a sharp pull I throw you forward, sending your body crashing hard into the steel steps. The metal rattles violently on impact, the sound brutal and unforgiving. I release you as you hit, turning my head away for a split second as my chest tightens all over again. I stand there shaking, fists clenched, eyes wet, torn apart inside. But I do not stop. Because stopping means going home.

Sara_León: I fall to the floor curled up, my forehead resting on the ground, and silent tears falling onto the wood. There's no real crying, they could be mistaken for drops of sweat. But I’m shattered, inside and out, with a grimace of pain and sadness on my lips, breathing with difficulty, and my hands on my abdomen. You grab my hair again, mercilessly, as if I were an object, and drag me forward. My face stays turned toward the floor, keeping you from seeing my expression. I crawl as best I can, following your steps and letting out small groans, my hands reaching for your wrists. I see the steel steps and manage to gather enough strength to scream “What are you doing...? Hana...? NO!! HANA!! PLEA—” --CLANNNNGGG-- With one brutal yank of my hair, you hurl my entire body against the steel, which crashes and slams into it with a loud metallic noise, echoing through the entire arena, while I fall like dead weight, my arm and side burning… my whole body bruised and destroyed. I land on my back, eyes still open but staring only at the lights, gaze blank, chest heaving rapidly, and full drops of sweat running down my body. If you come closer, I think, you’ll see the trails of my tears

Hana_Jeong: I move on instinct, fast, almost frantic. I drop to the apron and rip the curtain aside, my hands digging blindly underneath. Steel chair. Then something worse. A kendo stick wrapped tightly in barbed wire. The second my fingers close around it, the crowd changes. I hear it — that sharp intake of breath, that low, excited murmur spreading row by row as they understand what I’m about to do. They think they’re about to see blood. They think I’ve crossed the line for good. I pull the weapon free and stand up. The barbed wire glints under the lights. I walk toward you. You’re still on your back, broken, barely moving. I grab your hair without care, without gentleness, and haul you up. Your body offers no resistance. I force you onto your knees, your head hanging until I yank it back hard, my fist buried in your hair, exposing your face to me. My other arm lifts. The kendo stick trembles in my grip, barbed wire humming softly as I draw it back. My muscles tighten and in one swing I will hit your forehead with it. The crowd is silent now, waiting. And then...I see your beautiful green eyes shining full of tears you tried so hard to hide. I can only a young woman like me sweaty, scared, hurting. The only woman in the world I call sister. Your eyes struggle to focus, glassy, pleading without words. Something in my chest snaps. My arm goes slack. The kendo stick falls from my hand and hits the floor with a dull clatter. I let go of your hair like it’s burning me. I take a step back. Then another. I turn away from you completely, as if facing you for one more second would tear me apart. My legs give out. I drop to my knees, forehead pressing hard against the floor, shoulders shaking violently. The arena doesn’t understand. The fans don’t understand. No one does. I break. Tears spill freely now, no longer hidden, my breath hitching as my body curls inward. In a broken whisper, barely louder than my own breathing, I murmur in Korean: "I can’t do this. I can’t do this".

Sara_León: My head lifts from your yank on my hair, like dead weight. You manage to violently force me onto my knees in front of you. I’m dizzy, dazed, in pain, shattered. You pull my hair back and I show you my tear-streaked face, twisted in pain and despair. I glance at the kendo stick and for a moment I think it’s over. I want to tell you to go ahead, to finish it once and for all and achieve your dream. I also want to tell you to stop, to have mercy on your friend. So I decide to say nothing, just look at you, completely terrified, unable to find the right words, gasping nonstop. And then you drop the kendo stick. My terror turns into pure confusion, but when you let go of my hair, I collapse forward, lying on the wooden floor, face down, thinking the last few seconds were a dream. I hear a dull thud. I don’t know what you’re doing. I hear you crying and murmuring in Korean, and I begin to understand. I try to move, but I still can’t. I try to regulate my breathing, regain my senses, push aside the pain in my muscles. For a few seconds, we both remain motionless

Hana_Jeong: I stay on my knees, fists clenched so hard my nails bite into my palms. My shoulders are shaking, my chest feels like it’s going to split open. I can hear you breathing behind me, broken, uneven — proof that none of this was a dream. And then it all detonates. I slam one hand into the floor and scream, my voice cracking, raw, echoing through the stunned arena. “FUCK—! I’M SUCH A STUPID BITCH!!” The words tear out of me like they’ve been trapped in my lungs for years. I don’t turn around. I can’t. If I see your face again, I know I’ll fall apart completely. I rake my hands through my hair, tugging at it in frustration, tears dripping straight onto the wood beneath me. My voice breaking again, anger and shame twisting together. I finally twist halfway toward you, not fully facing you, my eyes red, my face contorted with self-disgust. I know you wouldn’t have stopped. if our positions were reversed, you wouldn’t hesitate. You’d finish the job. You’d do what you came here to do. My fist trembles as I press it to my chest. I bow my head again, breath hitching, voice dropping but still sharp with pain. The fans start booing me horribly as I reveal weakness and confusion, spiced by the fact im South Korean.

Sara_León: I hear you scream, and I shudder. I have to stop thinking you’re my friend once and for all. You’re like a wild animal trapped in a cage, and any wrong move could make you devour me. This is survival. You’ve beaten me like few ever have, and you could have finished it. That’s how good you were, how dangerous in the ring. Maybe you deserved to win, after all. But at what cost? I think about Spain again, I shift my focus to every part of my body that hurts, that burns, and I force myself to remember that all of it is your doing. Suddenly I hear the crowd’s booing, and I start to tremble. That’s a terrible sign. The crowd booing Hana, sweet and gentle Hana, the one they were cheering for just minutes ago. I think about the evaluation being done on us. It’s not just about winning or losing, it’s about leaving a good impression for the company. And you were throwing that away, stopping in the middle of the match and breaking down in tears. Even if you won, what future would you have? Finally starting to recover, I slowly drag myself until I manage to get my hand under the ring apron, and I feel around the floor, searching for anything. I find a bucket of sand, and grab a large handful, closing my fist as tightly as I can and keeping it that way, allowing myself to gather strength for a few moments more, waiting for you to come close to me again

Hana_Jeong: My whole mind is in pieces. Nothing is straight anymore — not my thoughts, not my breathing, not the roar crushing my skull from every direction. Sweat pours off me like I’ve been dragged out of the ocean. My chest rises and falls too fast, my hands shaking, my throat tight. The boos stab deeper than any hit you gave me. I feel naked out here. Exposed. Weak. Humiliated. I press my palms into the floor and force myself to breathe — one long, ugly breath, then another — like I’m drowning and clawing my way back to the surface. My jaw tightens so hard it hurts. Whatever cracked inside me doesn’t get to decide this ending. Not here. Not now. Slowly, deliberately, I push myself up. My legs wobble, my abs scream in protest, my lungs burn — but I stand. I wipe my face with the back of my forearm, smearing sweat and tears together until there’s no difference anymore. I turn toward you. My eyes lock on your body near the apron, and something in me hardens — not rage, not mercy — resolve. Cold, heavy, inevitable. “This ends,” I mutter under my breath, more to myself than to you. I take a step toward you. Then another. Each one steadier than the last, like I’m forcing my soul back into my body by sheer will. The crowd noise fades into a dull, distant hum.

Sara_León: I feel your footsteps pounding against the wood. I tilt my face slightly, manage to see your black boots approaching me. I don’t know if you’re about to grab my hair or the kendo stick. I can’t take that chance. You’re broken inside, but you’ve barely taken any physical punishment so far, so you’ll be ready for any counterattack. My hands are sweating so much I start to fear the sand has turned to mud in my fist, but I have to try anyway. I raise my free hand and press it against the edge of the ring, pushing myself up. I manage to get to one knee in front of you, and I look into your eyes. You freeze for a second — I don’t know if it’s surprise at seeing me still standing or from looking into my eyes again. I don’t care, I have to do what’s necessary. I lift my fist, placing it in front of my mouth, and launch myself upward, trying to reach your face, as I open my hand, revealing the handful of sand, and blow with all my strength into your face!!

Hana_Jeong: My world turns white and burning in an instant. The sand explodes into my eyes, my nose, my mouth, scraping like glass across my vision. I scream without meaning to, a raw, furious sound ripped straight out of my chest as I stagger backward, hands flying to my face. “AAAH—FUCK!!” I drop to one knee hard, my kickpads skidding on the wood as I claw at my eyes, blinking wildly, tears pouring out instantly, mixing with sweat and grit. I can feel the sand grinding under my eyelids every time I try to open them, my vision reduced to nothing but blurred light and shadow. My chest heaves, panic surging for half a second. Not like this. Not now. I squeeze my eyes shut tight, forcing myself to breathe through the pain, through the sting, through the humiliation of being caught again. My fingers dig into the floor, nails scraping as I steady myself, coughing, spitting sand from my mouth. I can barely see you, just a shape in front of me, but I know exactly where you are. “You fucking bitch,” I sob, half to you, half to myself, voice hoarse and shaking. Still blinded, still on one knee, I push up anyway. My legs tremble but they obey. One hand stays pressed to my eyes, the other reaching out blindly, searching for you, for balance, for anything to grab.

Sara_León: I grab onto the ropes to keep from losing my balance as I watch you stumble back. It worked!! I look down and see the steel chair you pulled out earlier, lying on the floor. I approach with trembling legs, bend down, and grab it. I raise it above me, my instinct ready to slam it into your face — but then I see you reaching out blindly, and I change my mind. I move toward you and place your head through the gap in the chair. You try to resist, but I strike your arms and grab your hair, struggling with you until I manage to get the chair hanging from your neck. Then I step back a few paces. I see you reaching for the chair, trying to pull it off your head — but then my best wrestler instincts kick in and I launch my leg forward in a brutal superkick, smashing you directly in the head and against the chair. I stay standing for a moment, then drop to my knees beside you, gasping and still recovering from your attacks, as you collapse

Hana_Jeong: The impact detonates inside my skull. PASSSSSHHH. The chair crushes against my face as your boot snaps into it, and everything inside me folds at once. My body goes slack immediately, legs giving out as if they were never there to begin with. I crash to the floor in a useless heap, the sound of metal and flesh echoing together as my head whips sideways and the chair clatters away. My vision shuts down completely. Not darkness, not peace, just a violent blur of light and pressure that wipes every thought clean. My mouth opens but no sound comes out. My arms twitch once, then fall heavy against the wood. I am half conscious, floating somewhere between pain and nothing. I can hear the crowd only as a distant roar, like waves hitting a shore far away. My chest rises and falls fast and shallow, breath ragged, completely out of my control. I try to move. My body does not answer. I lie there, stunned, wrecked, barely aware that I am on the floor, my head ringing violently, my mind shattered.

Sara_León: Seeing you fall, I search for strength inside myself to keep punishing you, but I can’t find it. I see you collapsed, and I decide to try my luck. Maybe this can be the end of everything without having to hurt you any more. Still on my knees, I crawl toward you and wrap one of your legs with an arm, while I lie over you, my chest pressed against yours, and place my free hand over your mouth, pressing it as if I wanted to drive your skull into the floor, but preventing you from saying anything. The referee runs down from the ring and throws herself to the floor beside us, raising her hand and striking the wood for the first time. “ONE!!...”

Hana_Jeong: I barely register the referee’s hand hitting the floor the first time. My body feels like it’s been filled with wet cement, my skull still ringing, my mouth trapped under your palm, my chest crushed by your weight. Instinct is the only thing left in me. The second slap of the count hits the wood and something deep inside me snaps. A raw, animal sound tears out of my throat, muffled under your hand, a scream ripped straight from pain and refusal. My entire body convulses as I force everything I have into one desperate movement. My shoulder explodes off the floor, twisting violently, muscles screaming in protest as I surge upward like a wounded warrior refusing to die. I gasp the moment your weight shifts, sucking in air like I’ve been drowning. My face is contorted in pain and fury, teeth clenched, eyes wild, tears mixing with sweat as I roll slightly onto my side, chest heaving uncontrollably.

Sara_León: I pull away from you because of your surge, letting out a howl of rage, clenching my fists and my eyelids tightly. The scream echoes throughout the entire arena, and I punch the metal barrier. I then turn back to you, straddle myself over your abdomen and grab your black hair, lifting your head slightly as I raise my fist high and begin to punch you in the face... Over and over and over again “STAY!! STILL!! DON’T!! YOU!! MOVE!!! FROM!!! HERE!!” I begin to shout at you, completely out of my mind, my sweaty hair whipping around in front of my face, not stopping hitting you until I have released all the tension, then letting go of your hair and getting to my feet

Hana_Jeong: I try to bring my arms up, instinctively, desperately, but they don’t answer me. They feel miles away, useless, spread out on the floor like they don’t belong to me anymore. Your weight crushes down on my abdomen and then your fist comes down, again and again, my head snapping side to side, the world exploding in white flashes and dull thunder. Each punch lands heavier than the last. I feel skin split somewhere on my forehead, a hot sting followed by warmth that immediately starts running down my face. My vision blurs, not just from the blows but from tears I can’t stop anymore. I sob openly now, broken sounds slipping out of me between your strikes, my mouth opening in voiceless cries as my body jerks helplessly under you. I try to turn my head, try to curl inward, try anything, but there’s nothing left. I just take it. When you finally stop and your weight lifts from me, the silence feels louder than the crowd. I lie there completely limp, chest barely rising and falling, my hair stuck to my face with sweat and blood. A thin trickle slides from my forehead, tracing down my temple and dripping onto the wood beneath me. I whimper softly, a pitiful, involuntary sound, my fingers twitching once before going still again. My body trembles in small, uncontrollable shudders as I stare up at the lights, unfocused and glassy, blood and tears mixing on my cheeks.

Sara_León: I get up with my arms slightly arched, slowly, with my feet on either side of your abdomen and my hair falling messily over my face, letting the stage lights soak my sweaty silhouette, like that of a monster that has just caught its prey. My ragged breathing makes my hunched back move, and I look around, left blinded by so much light, raising a hand to cover my eyes. And when my hand appears in front of me, I see it. I see my own hand stained with your blood, and I immediately lower my gaze, watching your face with a red line running across it. I pull my hand out of my sight unconsciously, starting to breathe with much more difficulty. “Oh no… Oh no oh nononono….” I begin to murmur, feeling my heart race to impossible beats. I remain frozen for a few seconds, my thoughts a whirlwind. I look at you once more, but I know what I have to do. I move away from you and head toward the ring, crouching down and grabbing several objects, throwing them into the ring. A chain, a long rope, a table, some handcuffs… I also find a wooden box, open it and take out a flag of South Korea and a flag of Spain. My heart suddenly tightens, dropping the box and leaving it on the floor, the flags spilling out messily. I also grab the chair and throw it into the ring, and then I go for you. I watch you for a few seconds, biting my lip with a pained expression, but finally I grab you by the hair and pull, dragging you with me and taking you to the ring. I grab your shorts and pull upward, shoving you and making you roll across the canvas toward the center. Then I climb onto the edge of the ring and roll heavily under the bottom rope, trying to get to my feet while I look at the objects I’ve just left inside. I glance sideways at the barbed kendo stick, but decide to leave it there

Hana_Jeong: I barely move when you climb into the ring. My body answers in fragments, slow and delayed. I crawl instinctively, dragging myself a few inches away from you, my cheek scraping against the canvas. My face is on fire. Every breath sends a sharp pulse through my skull. I roll onto my back, staring up at the lights, and then at you. And suddenly my mind starts breaking apart. Images flash through me like they’re being erased one by one. Your birthday in that tiny kitchen and the little cake i baked for you. Christmas in Tokyo, away from our families. A funny quiz night at a bar with two nice American guys we met. Pillow fights in our tiny room, bumping into the walls, whispering secrets in the dark. The promises we made to each other... Each memory vanishes. Something cold replaces them. I don’t feel sadness anymore.I only feel humilliation and hatred. I hate you deeply, Sara. It keeps me alive in this match. I turn my head slowly toward the ropes. My vision swims, but it’s clearer now. I dig my fingers into the bottom rope and pull. My arms shake violently, barely obeying me. I get onto my side, then onto my knees, spitting blood onto the mat without even noticing. I force myself up inch by inch, using the ropes like a crutch, my forehead throbbing, my jaw clenched so hard it hurts. My legs tremble under me, but they hold.

-    

Sara_León: I get up slowly in the center of the ring, until I'm standing, and I throw my hair back, revealing my face, with that eternal expression of painful sadness on it. My teeth clenched and my mouth slightly open, forcing myself to breathe through it and moving my whole torso to do so. I look down at my feet and see the chain I threw earlier. I crouch and grab one end with my right hand. While squatting, I wrap the tip around my palm and loop the chain once, then again, and again, as I begin to stand, and the jingling of the iron begins to sound, until I’m standing with my fist wrapped in metal and a long chain hanging from it, swaying at my side. I see you getting up, and I can’t help but murmur, “Look at you… So weak… So fragile…” I stay motionless for a second, long enough for the monster of guilt to crash down on me again. Who in their right mind would hurt you in this state? My maternal instinct and the memories come together in a desperate attempt to make me stop, to make me protect you. And yet, the fear of losing the match, the fear of taking another beating from you, and the fear of you kicking out again join that dark and uncontrollable desire of the Red Lioness to cause harm. Your weakness and tenderness, trembling against the ropes, manage to become an incentive for me. That innate desire to hurt the weak, the loved one, that scares me so much I never even confessed it to you. “You asked for this…” I murmur again, this time louder, letting myself be carried away by my instincts while a voice of terror screaming at me to stop remains drowned inside me. I walk toward you, swinging the chain back, feeling the jingling, tensing my muscles, and then I bend my knees, raising my arm and throwing the end of the chain at you, aiming to hit any part of your body… Over and over again… Drunk with frenzy and letting out lioness roars, lashing out at that sweet, tender kitten who moments before almost finished me off

Hana_Jeong: I look at you while you wrap the chain around your hand. I really look at you. My vision is still shaky, the lights bleeding into everything, but I see the resolve in your posture, the tremor in your breathing, the way your jaw tightens like you’re locking something away. Tears run down my face, not soft ones, not sad ones. They’re hot, angry, full of defiance. When you call me weak, when you call me fragile, something ugly twists inside my chest. I lean heavier into the ropes just to stay upright. Blood pools in my mouth. I spit it out onto the mat, slow and deliberate, right in front of me. Not to insult you. To show you I’m still here. I don’t answer you with words. I don’t have any left. The chain whistles through the air. The first strike hits my shoulder and explodes through my nerves. I cry out despite myself, a raw, broken sound ripped from my throat. The second lashes across my ribs, stealing my breath completely, my body folding inward on instinct. The third catches my back as I slide down the ropes, my legs giving out beneath me. I drop to the mat and curl in on myself, arms wrapping around my head, knees drawn tight to my chest. Every hit lands on muscle, on skin, on bone that was trained to fly and twist and leap, now reduced to absorbing punishment. Each blow leaves fire behind it. Each one makes my body jerk and shudder. I groan, loud and uncontrolled, my face pressed to the canvas, sweat and blood smearing beneath me. I try to shield my head, my sides, anything vital, but there’s nowhere safe. My young, fit body bruises under the metal, red marks blooming almost instantly, my breathing turning frantic and uneven. Still, I don’t beg. I sob through clenched teeth, not from fear, but from rage and pain and the sheer refusal to disappear. Even curled into a ball, even broken and shaking, I stay conscious. I stay alive. And somewhere beneath the blows, beneath the bruises and the burning, that hatred keeps me breathing.

Sara_León: When I’m done, I stay still, standing over your curled-up body, panting, with the arena lights reflecting clearly off my sweat-soaked skin. I unclench my fist and the chain crashes onto the mat. With a kick, I push it out of my way and move toward you, trying not to give you a single second to rest. I grab you by the hair with both hands, crouching down, and begin to pull slowly. My heart is pounding so hard it’s completely audible to you. And the worst part is that it’s not just from exhaustion, but from pure anxiety, pure guilt, pure panic. And that keeps me in constant motion, like I’m on a high-speed train with no brakes, unable to stop. "GET UP!! COME ON!! ON YOUR FEET!!" I scream at you, uncontrollably. When I manage to get you on your feet, in front of me, I grab the back of your neck tightly and grit my teeth, pulling my arm back and throwing a punch at your jaw, releasing your head, waiting for you to turn... And before you fall to your knees, I grab you around the waist from behind with both arms, locking them at your stomach, and bending my legs. You know what’s coming... The whole crowd knows... My signature move, my German Suplex... I press my body against your back, pressing my cheek to you, feeling your breath, your warmth... Like when I used to hold you from behind at night. I grit my teeth in desperation as I hug you tighter, pulling my arms in, crushing your stomach inward, while I start to bend my legs and lift upward...

Hana_Jeong: Blood is running faster now, warm and sticky as it slips down my forehead and into my eyes. Bleeding gives me adrenaline and makes my heart pounding like it’s trying to break out of my chest, every beat louder than the crowd, louder than the pain. My stockings are torn, my legs scraped raw, my ribs screaming every time I breathe, but the bleeding lights something feral inside me. Adrenaline floods my body, sharp and electric, forcing me to stay awake, forcing me to fight. Your punch lands on my jaw and the world explodes into white. For a split second there’s nothing. No ring, no crowd, no pain. Just emptiness. Then I feel you. Your breath against my neck. Hot. Heavy. Close. Your body pressed into my back, solid and inescapable. Your arms lock around my waist like iron, crushing the air out of me, and I know exactly what you’re about to do. The realization hits harder than the punch. “No… no…” I rasp, barely a sound. Instinct takes over. I grab at your forearms with both hands, fingers slick with sweat and blood, digging my nails in as I try to pry space where there is none. My feet scrape desperately against the canvas as you start to bend your legs. I throw my weight downward, fighting gravity, fighting you, fighting the inevitable. I twist my torso just enough to see the ropes out of the corner of my eye. They feel impossibly far. I stretch one arm out, shaking violently, fingertips brushing nothing but air as my other hand still clings to your arm. My core screams in protest as I arch forward, every muscle begging to give up, but I force myself to keep reaching, teeth clenched, breath coming in ragged gasps.

Sara_León: I manage to lift your feet off the mat, and time stops. My cheek pressed against your back, my body leaning backward, and my opponent’s body flying through the air, tracing a perfect arc. Domination, joy. I feel the muscles in your abdomen tense, twist. I hear you protest, but in this instant, you’re mine. This is my moment, and it doesn’t matter who you are. In less than a second, like a blur, I execute my German Suplex on you, throwing you backward and slamming your back and head against the mat behind me as the crowd claps and cheers at the display of strength. Quickly, I get to my feet and turn to look at you, lying on the mat, face bleeding, limbs trembling, your gaze… empty? defiant? I swallow hard as I realize I don’t recognize you in your eyes, but I force myself to keep moving. Everyone knows—yourself included—that I always perform two German Suplexes in a row. With trembling fingers, I grab the chair and place it in the center of the ring, heading back to you again, noticing you’re managing to get back to your feet, and wrapping my arms around you from behind once more, locking my arms around your midsection and forcing you to move with me, trying to position you right

Hana_Jeong: I don’t have anything left. When your arms wrap around me again from behind, my body reacts a split second too late. I try to tense my core, but it feels hollow now, like there’s nothing inside to brace with. My hands lift, weak and clumsy, touching your forearms more out of habit than resistance. They slide off, fingers trembling. My legs barely hold me upright as you force me to step with you. The chair is there, the danger obvious, but my mind is foggy, slow, drowned in pain and exhaustion. The roar of the crowd sounds far away, distorted, like I’m underwater. I exhale shakily and my head falls back slightly, resting for a fraction of a second against your shoulder. I don’t fight it anymore. There’s no strength left to block, no clarity left to counter. I stop struggling, my body going heavy in your arms, surrendering to gravity and momentum. My eyes close as my feet leave the mat again, and in that suspended instant I just let it happen, knowing I can’t stop the second German Suplex no matter how badly it’s going to hurt.

Sara_León: "RAAAAHHHH!!!" I let out a roar of effort as I lift you off the mat for the second time, feeling your dead weight, limp, surrendered to me. Maybe it wasn’t necessary to do it again. Maybe I could’ve ended the match. I barely feel any resistance from you, and it feels like I’m punishing a body that’s already defeated. But I can’t let you break another pin, I have to make sure this time you won’t get up. — CLAAAANKKKKK!!! — The sound of your back crashing into the folded chair echoes through the entire ring, and I collapse onto my back, exhausted, not even seeing how your body crumples after my second German Suplex. With my back aching, I slowly roll over, crawling toward you. I reach for the chair beneath you and yank it aside, leaning on your thighs and then your stomach to get myself into position on top of you. I stretch out an arm to grab one of your legs and lift it, while crossing my forearm over your chest and trying to lock my hands together. I feel every beat of your heart, every breath you take. I focus on your face, so close to mine. My hair, soaked in sweat, falls over your face, darkening with blood, and the referee drops to the mat to slap it for the first time — “ONE!!...” I give a hard nod then, the muscles in my face tight with pain, wishing with all my strength that you don’t get up…

Hana_Jeong: The impact is unreal. When my upper back crashes into the chair, a sharp, blinding pain explodes through me, deeper than anything before. It feels wrong, like something shifted where it shouldn’t have, like a joint screaming in protest. My body folds in on itself as I tumble sideways, limbs twisting uselessly, the air ripped completely out of my lungs. Everything goes white. For a few seconds I’m gone. No sound, no crowd, no pain. Just nothing. Then reality crashes back in fragments. The thud of the mat under the referee’s hand. A distant voice counting. Your weight on me. Your sweat-soaked hair brushing my face, sticky with my blood. My leg lifted, trapped. My chest crushed under your forearm. “ONE!!…” My heart slams wildly, panic and instinct flaring together. My body doesn’t respond at first. It feels heavy, like it doesn’t belong to me anymore. “TWO!!…” Something inside me snaps awake. Not strength. Not technique. Pure refusal. My lungs burn as I drag in a broken breath. My spine screams when I try to move, but the pain only fuels it. I don’t think, I don’t plan. I just fight. At the last possible fraction of a second, when everything is already slipping away— I unleash a raw, primal scream, ripped straight from my chest, the cry of a wounded amazon refusing to die “AAAHHHHHH!!” I twist my torso violently and throw my shoulder up, barely an inch, barely enough, but enough to shatter the count and explode the arena into chaos.

Sara_León: My world falls apart. I’m still on top of you, your body slightly turned, my chin resting on your shoulder, my mouth completely open, my heart racing, the crowd roaring. I feel your breathing beneath my own body, your muscles moving, your sweat. I slowly sit up, looking at you. Seeing the face of my partner, my friend, my sister… Bloody, hurting, destroyed… But denying me my dream. My head starts to ache like never before, the noise of the crowd piercing my ears, the guilty voices in my head screaming at me “what have you done??”, the referee shouting at me “It was only two!!”. I slowly rise until I’m on my knees, sitting on your stomach, hyperventilating and pressing both hands over my ears, letting out a loud scream: “SILENCE!!! SHUT UP!!!” My screams are drowned out by the crowd’s, the anxiety grows, my eyes fill with tears again, this time from pure suffering. I look at you again, grinding my teeth. The thoughts about you start bombarding me again. “Hana is better than me, she deserves it” “Look at her, so weak and fragile” “Stop crying like a little girl” “No one can stop you from winning, Hana” I jerk away from you violently, ending up on my knees on the mat beside you, my hands still over my ears and pulling at my hair, bending down until my forehead touches the mat, unable to take it anymore. I straighten up again and slap myself, forcing myself to react and letting out a scream. Then I move toward you and grab you by the wrist, dragging you across the mat until we reach the ropes. Then I take the rope I had thrown away earlier, and I start wrapping it around your neck, my fingers trembling

Hana_Jeong: I barely understand that I’m still alive in this match. My chest rises and falls in shallow, burning gasps after that near fall, every nerve screaming. I feel your body on me for a moment longer than it should be — warm, slick with sweat, shaking just as much as mine. My hand moves almost without thought, brushing weakly against your lower back, not to fight, not to beg, just a reflex that proves I’m still here. Then I feel it shift. Your breathing changes. Your movements get sharper, more desperate. You’re not thinking anymore. You’re trying to end this. When you drag me toward the ropes, my body feels like it weighs a hundred kilos. My head lolls to the side, blood smearing across the canvas, my arms limp. I don’t resist when you reach for the rope. I don’t struggle when you loop it around my neck. My hands barely twitch. To anyone watching, I’m done. I let my eyes glaze over. I let my body go slack. I play dead. The moment your attention locks onto the rope — the instant your focus shifts to tightening it — I feel your balance change. Your weight comes forward just a fraction too much. That’s all I need. With everything I have left, I snap my hips sideways and hook your legs hard, sweeping them out from under you. Your center of gravity disappears, and you crash down to the mat beside me, the rope loosening instantly. I roll with you, teeth clenched through the pain screaming in my neck and spine, dragging myself up on pure instinct. Before you can recover, I swing my arm across your face and trap it, sliding my body into position, my legs scissoring for base. My forearm digs across your mouth and jaw as I lock my hands together in a vicious crossface. . I arch back, ignoring the fire tearing through my own body, pulling your head toward me, twisting your neck and shoulder at an ugly angle. My face hovers close to yours, blood dripping onto the mat beneath us, my breath ragged but focused for the first time in what feels like forever. "RRRRGGHHHH " Iyt