NEW - NOIR EXTREME WRESTLING

(PART II)

Sara_León: "AGH!!" In an unexpected strike, you go from total stillness to direct attack. You hook my legs and I easily lose my balance, releasing the rope, still wrapped around your neck. I’m left stunned for a second on the mat, not thinking you could launch another attack so soon, but I’m wrong. I feel your arm over my face and let out a sharp scream as you pull. I feel and hear you twisting behind me, as I try to react, but always too late. Your forearm digs into my mouth, leaving it slightly open, and you cross your other hand in front of me, pulling both arms back in a terrible crossface. My face is lifted by a direct yank on my jaw, my throat bending, my chest rising off the mat, my hands pressing into it, searching for support, for relief, as I let out a gut-wrenching scream... "AAAAAAAGGGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!" straight into your arms. I feel your delicate hands, those hands I know so well, clenching with fury and fierce strength in front of me, pulling me, twisting me in pain. I see drops of blood fall onto the mat, feel your ragged breathing right in my ear, mixed with your scream, mixed with mine, feeling like you’re going to snap my neck in two, feeling a horrible fire in my shoulder, and instinctively swinging my legs toward the nearby ropes, hitting them, even knowing it won’t free me from you this time. The tears stop halfway down my cheek, landing on your wrists

Hana_Jeong: I scream right into your ear, my voice raw and cracked, almost unrecognizable even to myself. “JUST GIVE UP BITCH!!” I wrench back one last time, my whole body shaking, and I look straight at the referee, my eyes wide, desperate, searching for the smallest sign that this is over. For half a second I’m sure I feel you give, sure I see the movement, and my grip tightens on instinct. Then it starts to slip. My arms are burning. My hands won’t close the way I want them to. The strength drains out of me all at once, like someone pulled a plug. I let go. You collapse forward, gasping, and I’m left on my knees behind you, chest heaving, blood dripping from my face onto the mat. I see your tears as you turn slightly, see your shoulders shaking, hear that broken sound in your breathing. And it hits me. That’s not my opponent crying. That’s the girl I shared noodles with at 2 a.m. The woman who held me when I doubted myself. My sister. For a heartbeat, it almost breaks me. Almost. I feel that weakness rising again, that hesitation that nearly cost me everything, and I crush it before it can take hold. I shake my head violently, like I’m shaking her out of my mind. No. Not again. I plant my boot hard on your lower back, pinning you to the mat before you can crawl away. My leg trembles, but I keep it there, breathing hard, forcing myself to move. I reach out and grab the nearest steel chair. It feels impossibly heavy in my hands. I lift my foot just enough to let you push up onto all fours, your back rising, your head hanging, and that’s when I snap. I bring the chair down. CRACK. Again. CRACK. Again. CRACK. And one more time, my arms screaming, my vision blurring. CRACK. I scream with the last shot, a sound of pure exhaustion and pain tearing out of my chest, and I throw the chair away like it burned me. It skids across the ring and crashes into the corner. My legs give out. I stagger back and collapse against the ropes, my arms draped over the top strand, down my face, my wh

Hana_Jeong: , blood and sweat dripping down my face, my whole body shaking as I try to breathe. I don’t look at you. I just hang there, barely standing, held up by the ropes and stubborn will, knowing there's almost anything left inside me.

Sara_León: I recognize your hands tightening in front of my mouth, I recognize your strength and your passion, pulling at me, about to break me, but I barely recognize your voice when you scream at me to give up. A broken voice, cracked, rough, desperate. In that voice I feel again the hatred you showed me before, that desperation of not feeling valued by me, and a shiver runs through my body, feeling again that enormous weight of guilt, as my muscles weaken, and I start to move the palm of my hand into a tapping position, not knowing how much longer you’ll be able to hold the crossface, and feeling my muscles tear and give out more each second, with increasingly ragged moans... But then you start to give out, and suddenly you let go, and my head drops face-first to the mat, gasping with relief... “I’m still in the match... I’m still in the match...” I begin to repeat to myself over and over and over again, trying to stay awake. I try to start crawling, turning slightly, still crying, and suddenly I feel a huge pressure on my lower back, your boot digging into my skin, leaving me motionless, moaning, unable to keep dragging myself. When you finally release me, I want to stay on the mat, I want to fall asleep, but I force myself to move. I don’t know where you are, but I know I have to try to get up. I manage to plant the palms of my hands on the mat and slowly push myself up until I’m kneeling, head hanging, sweat dripping from my nose onto the mat, breathing raggedly, and then... “AAAGHHH!!! AAAHHHHH!! GAAAARGHH!!”I feel the cold metal of the chair dig into my exposed back, destroying me,making it red, setting it on fire, breaking the supports, making my arms and legs give out under the punishment, collapsing face down to receive one last blow, to which Ino longer react, 

Sara_León: enduring so much pain that I can’t take in any more. I hear the chair hit the mat far from me, but I don’t move. I stay there, my whole body trembling like jelly, breathing violently against the mat, and enduring a terrifying new thought: “I’m going to lose this match...”

Hana_Jeong: I push myself off the ropes and finally look at you. And what scares me is how little it hurts to see you like this. You’re broken on the mat, shaking, barely holding together, and something inside me has shifted completely. I don’t see my sister anymore. The blood running down my face, dripping from my chin onto my chest, makes everything feel unreal, like my thoughts are no longer lined up the way they should be. The pain, the exhaustion, the rage they’ve twisted into something darker. And I realize, with a cold clarity, that I’m enjoying this. Enjoying proving it. Proving that I was never the weak one. Proving that your “protection” was never about me—it was about you, about needing to feel bigger, stronger, dominant. My legs barely work as I move, each step heavy and unsteady, but my purpose is sharp. I drag myself under the bottom rope, my hands scraping against the apron as I slide outside the ring. I grab your ankle and yank hard, pulling your limp body toward the corner. Your weight fights me, but I don’t stop, hauling you inch by inch until your shoulder bumps against the steel steps. You start to stir, and before you can think, I snap a punch into your face. Just enough to remind you who’s in charge. I grab the rope you left behind on the mat and loop back inside the ring. I haul you upright, forcing you to your feet, your legs barely obeying. I shove you onto the steel steps, your boots scraping against the metal as I press you back against the post. I bind your wrists together above your head, the rope biting into your skin as I pull it tight. Then I thread it over the steel cable that connects the ring post to the top turnbuckle, yanking hard until your arms are stretched high, your body forced upright, exposed, helpless. I step back, breathing hard, my chest heaving as I look at what I’ve done. You’re standing there now: arms raised, wrists bound, trembling on the steel steps—held in place by rope and steel and my will alone.

Hana_Jeong: people are no longer cheering or chanting. I can feel the crowd leaning forward, sensing that what I’m about to do lives right on the edge of what’s allowed. Maybe past it. The referee hesitates, pacing, not sure whether to intervene or freeze. Everyone knows this doesn’t look like a normal finish anymore. My legs finally betray me. I stagger back a step, then another, and nearly collapse. I end up crashing against the guardrail, metal rattling as my shoulder hits it. I hang there for a second, head bowed, blood dripping to the floor, my lungs burning as I try to pull air back into myself. When I look up, my vision swims—and that’s when I see them. Two white guys in the front row, beers in hand, staring at the ring with wide eyes. Without asking, without even breaking eye contact with you, I reach out and snatch one of the bottles. I tilt it back and drink almost all of it in one go, beer spilling down my chin, some of it splashing uselessly onto the floor as my hands shake. I cough once, spit to the side, and toss the empty bottle away like it means nothing. The haze clears just enough. I turn back toward the ring and reach under the apron. My fingers close around it. The kendo stick wrapped in barbed wire drags free with a soft metallic scrape, the barbs catching the light as I pull it out. The crowd gasps now—no restraint, no uncertainty. They know. I slide back into the ring slowly, deliberately, the stick dragging behind me. Each step feels heavy, but my focus is razor sharp again. I stop right in front of you, standing there on the steel steps, arms stretched above your head, wrists bound, chest heaving, body trembling. I raise the weapon… then pause. I lean in close, so close my forehead almost touches your temple. My voice drops to a whisper only you can hear, rough and cracked, nothing like the girl you used to comfort. “Don’t make me do this to you, Sara,” I murmur, breath hot against your ear. “Quit.”

Sara_León: Every second is a new struggle. A struggle against the pain, a struggle against my thoughts, a struggle against unconsciousness itself. I feel weak, too weak. My body drags itself across the mat, I can’t think how, why, who. Suddenly, I feel cold metal on my shoulder, and my senses activate slightly. I start to move, lifting my head a little, and I see your face for a second… “UGH!!” before your fist crashes into my face, making my head ring, and I fall back to the mat again. I hear you moving behind me. I open my eyes, blinking very slowly, regaining my senses far too slowly, blinded by the lights, deafened by the noise. I only feel my entire body screaming in pain. And then your arms, your hands… They begin to lift me. I try to follow you, I try to move, but my legs tremble, and I feel your gasps and your efforts to get me to my feet, pressing my arms, pushing my hip, taking me by the armpits… A sudden shove makes me crash into the metal post, and I hear my footsteps on the metal of the steps. I begin to orient myself again, I begin to come back to myself. I see you… I feel you tie my wrists, with my arms stretched upward. You pull on them and I let out a grunt, the rope digging into my skin, and suddenly I realize that the rope is tied to something, that I can’t move it. The crowd is changing, my legs fail me, but instead of falling I remain hanging by my wrists, and then I see you… staggering, crashing into the metal, looking at me. And I feel the exposure. I feel the gaze of the entire crowd on my defenseless body, I feel the heat of the lights on my body, I feel your gaze, intense, indecipherable, terrifying, on me. I feel exposed, humiliated, weak, fragile… And suddenly I see it in your eyes, I manage to get through them, and see your frustration. I understand it, and it terrifies me. I start to strain against the ropes, without success, feeling weak, and beginning to moan. This shouldn’t be… This is a match, and it feels like an execution…

Sara_León: And you are my friend, Hana… No!! You are my sister!! How have we been able to get to this??? I let out a scream of frustration and fear while you drink the beer, but after that I just stay there hanging, head bowed, breathing with great difficulty, waiting for you to come closer, not wanting to hear you, not wanting to think. Just wishing you would knock me out once and for all and be able to end this. You have no right to do this to me, Hana, you simply don’t… I raise my head when I feel you in front of me, with the kendo stick in your hand. I look at the wire, as a shiver runs through my body. You know perfectly well that I can’t defend myself… What are you going to do? I swallow, looking at you pleadingly, and giving another tug on the ropes. I’ve managed to recover a bit, but what good does that do me? I hear your voice and I don’t recognize you in it again. You ask me to quit. Damn it, I want to. A thousand voices in my head are begging me to do it, to stop this. But the words won’t come out. I look at you, pressing my lips together as if I wanted to say something I truly can’t say, with my arms and legs trembling. I know you’re going to do it, I know you won’t stop this time. I know you deserve to win the match. I know it’s unfair for you to treat me like this. But I simply can’t quit like this. I can’t give that up. The words choke in my throat in a gesture visible to you, in which I end up saying nothing and lowering my head, clenching my teeth hard, and trying to hold back the tears

Hana_Jeong: I want to hurt you. I want you to bleed the way I’m bleeding. I want to erase that look on your face by breaking you completely, proving—once and for all—that I was never the weakest sister, never the one who needed protecting. My fingers tighten around the barbed wire, and I know that two clean swings would end this. I know how fast it would turn you into a mess of blood and screams. I know the crowd would never forget it. And that’s exactly why my body betrays me. I look at you—hanging there, trembling, proud and terrified at the same time—and something inside me collapses. My arms start to shake violently. My vision blurs. My jaw clenches, then breaks, and suddenly I’m crying again, ugly, uncontrollable sobs ripping out of my chest. “I can’t…” I choke, barely audible even to myself. With a broken scream of rage at my own weakness, I hurl the kendo stick away. It clatters uselessly across the mat, the barbed wire scraping like it’s mocking me. And then the shame hits. White-hot. I snarl through my tears, step forward, and explode into you with everything I have left. My leg whips up and my kickpad smashes straight into your abdomen— PAAAASHHHHH!!! The sound is sickening, hollow, violent. Your core caves around the impact, your body jerking hard against the restraints as all the air is ripped from your lungs at once. I feel it in my shin, in my knee, in my spine—and I don’t stop myself.

Hana_Jeong: I force my mind to lock onto one thought only: Finish her. I leave you there for a second, hanging and gasping, then turn away before I can hesitate again. I drop to my knees outside the ring, reaching under the apron with shaking arms. I drag out a steel ladder, grunting, nearly losing it as it bangs against the floor. It’s too heavy. Way too heavy. I still haul it up, muscle by screaming muscle, and wedge it between the apron and the guardrail, forming a brutal, unstable bridge. My legs wobble. I almost collapse again. But I don’t stop. I slide back down and pull out another ladder—bigger. Taller. Nearly four meters. My breath comes in ragged, desperate pulls as I inch it out, scrape by scrape, and prop it up a short distance away from the first one, the crowd roaring now, fully aware of what I’m building. I straighten slowly… and turn back to you. As I pass, I snap my arm across your chest with a vicious CHOP, the sound cracking through the arena, your skin already burning and red beneath it. I don’t even look at your face. I reach up, untie your wrists, and step back. You drop. Not gracefully. Not fighting. You fall like dead weight, crumpling to the mat in a heap, arms limp, breath ragged. I grab a fistful of your hair and drag you across the canvas, my boots scraping, my legs threatening to give out with every step. I haul you toward the ladder bridge and smash your face down against its edge, steel biting into skin. “Get in there, Sara,” I snarl, my voice hoarse, almost unrecognizable. I hook my arms around you, barely able to lift anymore, every muscle screaming, my knees shaking violently… and with a raw, desperate scream of effort, I scoop you up and slam you down onto the ladder. The impact rattles everything. I stumble back a step, chest heaving, blood dripping from my face, staring at what I’ve done.

Hana_Jeong: I walk toward the big ladder. on the top of its four meters of cold steel I will perform my finisher move, the moonsault. It looks like a mountain. I grab the first rung—and almost miss it. My fingers slip, slick with sweat and blood. The metal rattles violently under my weight, the whole structure shaking, and the crowd erupts when they realize what I’m trying to do. My heart is hammering so fast it hurts. One rung. Then another. Each step feels wrong. My legs tremble uncontrollably, calves cramping. My ribs scream every time I pull myself higher. My vision pulses white at the edges, narrowing, the lights above smearing into halos. Halfway up, my arms start to fail. I stop, forehead resting against the ladder, chest heaving, saliva and blood dripping down onto the mat below. My lungs can’t get enough air. My fingers feel numb, barely obeying me. I hear the crowd, but it sounds distant now, like I’m underwater. I look down. I see you sprawled across the ladder bridge, broken, barely moving. I see the rise and fall of your chest. Each rung is agony now. My shoulders feel like they’re tearing out of their sockets. My knees buckle, and for a terrifying second I almost slip—but I cling on, nails scraping metal, a desperate, animal sound ripping out of my throat. When I finally reach the top, I don’t stand. I can’t. I crouch there, swaying, arms hooked desperately around the ladder’s peak, my whole body shaking so badly it’s visible to everyone. The height is unreal. The ring looks small. You look so far away. One wrong move, one slip, and this ends very differently than planned. I force myself to rise, inch by inch, legs screaming, balance barely there. I spread my arms slowly, testing them, feeling how little strength I have left. My breath comes in sharp, panicked gasps. I look down at you one last time. This isn’t about winning anymore. It’s about proving that I'm the better woman. I embrace the ladder top... I need to recover at least for some seconds...

Sara_León: I hear the wire screech against the mat, and my skin prickles. I don’t know if it’s relief, shame, fear, rage, hope… But I don’t have time to process it, your knee drives into my stomach “UUUGGGGHHHHHHHH!!!” and it feels like it goes through all my insides, crushing even my own back against the post, folding me forward, feeling a sharp pull from the ropes on my wrists and bouncing against them, feeling my lungs disintegrate and noticing how it takes me far too long to draw oxygen again. Hanging off your leg, I feel that you’re trembling too… Then you pull away from me, you leave. I stay hanging from the ropes, like a rag doll, my head hanging forward, my breathing agonized, my hair messily hiding my face. Every breath is a struggle against my own body, I try to regulate it, I try to force myself to stay awake, I try to stop trembling, but my body doesn’t respond… Or it does so far too slowly. Then I raise my head, and I see you, setting up the ladder. I tilt my head with an expression of anguish, and then you come toward me, without looking at me, and… -SMACKK!!!- You fire another chop into my chest, making me scream and shed a tear, leaving me hanging from my wrists again, with barely any strength for anything else

Sara_León: At last you release me, and I collapse onto the steel. Limp, inert, without energy. I just let myself fall. It hurts, but I truly have no strength left. I’m conscious, but my body doesn’t respond. I remain folded over myself, like dead, until you grab me by the hair and drag me. I feel terrible pain, I want to crawl, but I can only endure it, wish for you to stop, while I let myself be carried. It takes you a long time. Too long. I slowly feel my strength returning, but I don’t dare use it, not yet. And suddenly… -CLANKK!!- You smash my face against the metal edge of the ladder, making me see stars. Everything turns white for a second, and I think I lose consciousness, but your voice brings me back to reality. You hook me and begin to lift me, while I feel a strange heat run across my forehead. I feel you weak, very weak, moving my body. And suddenly, I see a red drop fall in front of me. Blood… I then feel that heat, that cold running along my cheek, and I shudder. You slam me onto the ladder, making everything shake, and I stay there lying, looking only at the ceiling, without seeing you. I try to move an arm, but I barely move my fingers, and I decide to save my strength. The blood begins to run freely, still feeling the cold steel digging into my forehead. I hear the crowd, I feel the lights and the heat of the arena fill and make my sweat boil. I hear moans, I hear a metallic sound, and I begin to come back to my senses when I finally focus properly and see you, climbing the ladder. “You’re crazy…” I murmur, starting to tremble. I have to get out of here. I can’t move, but I have to. A sharp stab of terror and admiration for you suddenly crosses my heart, and my heart starts to pound hard. If you land on me, it’s over...

Hana_Jeong: My knees lock as soon as I straighten, and for a second I think I’m going to collapse right there. The metal creaks beneath me, swaying ever so slightly, and that tiny movement sends a wave of vertigo through my skull. The height finally hits me. This is insane. My chest heaves, sharp, uneven breaths ripping through my ribs. My vision blurs, tears mixing with sweat and blood, dripping down onto the ladder rungs below. I blink hard, trying to clear it—but the tears keep coming anyway. I look down at you. You’re stretched across the ladder like a sacrifice, blood streaking your face. . I know what this costs. I know how wrong this could go. I know that if I land badly… I can die. My hands tremble violently as I lift my right wrist to my lips. Inside the taped band, hidden from everyone else, I feel it—the tiny folded photograph, of my deceased parents. I press my lips to my wrist and break. A sob slips out of me, raw and quiet, swallowed by the noise of the crowd. Tears stream freely now, no attempt to stop them. My shoulders shake.. I wipe my face with the back of my hand, smearing blood and tears together, and force myself upright. My arms feel impossibly heavy as I spread them out wide, steadying myself at the top of the ladder. The lights blind me. The roar of the crowd swells into a single, deafening wave.. This is the point of no return. I bend my knees slowly, carefully, every muscle shaking, every nerve on fire. My core tightens instinctively, even as my strength drains away by the second. I push off. For one perfect, terrifying moment, there is nothing beneath me. The ladder disappears. The ring vanishes. The pain vanishes. I’m floating. My body arches backward into the moonsault, arms sweeping through the air, spine curving as I rotate. The world turns upside down—lights spinning, crowd roaring, the ceiling rushing past my eyes. My stomach drops as gravity finally remembers me. I see you beneath me and in my mind I say "Sara move for god sake".

Sara_León: The entire crowd rises from their seats, roaring, screaming, and time stops for me as I watch you floating through the air. Beautiful, graceful, strong, fierce, perfect. A moonsault from that height—I don’t remember ever seeing one like it in this ring. I know how weak you are right now, I’m the only one who’s felt it, body against body, and that’s why my admiration multiplies. You’re doing the impossible, you’re making history. In the air, your natural habitat, where no one I know has such mastery as you. For a split second, I feel brutally proud of you. I feel the roar of the crowd, and I feel that you deserve it. Not just making the roster, not even winning this match. But attracting all those stunned eyes, being the center of attention, shocking people, being an icon, going down in history. My thoughts of guilt and terror vanish, and suddenly a new thought strikes me… “Yes… that’s my friend… my sister… the one I love with all my heart… and for whom I will never stop feeling admiration and pride…”

Sara_León: And yet, you keep falling. I was ready for this, but you fall unbelievably fast. And my survival instincts kick back in... "Oh god, she’s going to crush me..." and I manage to tense every muscle in my body in an instant, summoning what energy I have left, and pushing myself urgently to the side, crashing face-first onto the wooden floor, just milliseconds before your body can crash into mine

Hana_Jeong: The space where your body was is suddenly empty, and my rotation finishes anyway, gravity ripping me down with no mercy. There’s no soft give, no flesh to absorb the fall—just steel and wood rushing up at me. CRASH— My body slams violently into the ladder bridge. The impact explodes through me. The metal bows and rattles under my weight, the wooden edge biting into my ribs and spine. My elbow pads take some of it, but nowhere near enough—pain detonates up my arm, through my shoulder, straight into my neck. It feels like my chest caves inward for a second, all the air ripped out of my lungs at once. I let out a guttural scream, raw and animal, a sound I don’t even recognize as my own. “AaAAAAAAGGHHH—!!!” My body bounces once, then collapses awkwardly across the ladder, twisted, broken-looking. One leg slips through the gap, dangling uselessly in the air, my boot swaying slightly. The other knee stays hooked over the metal rung. My arms fall limp at my sides, fingers twitching uncontrollably. I can’t breathe. My chest spasms, lungs burning as I gasp silently, mouth wide open, eyes squeezed shut. Every nerve in my body is screaming at once—back, ribs, shoulder, hip—like I’ve been split in half. I just… lie there. Stretched across the ladder bridge. Broken. Shaking. The crowd’s roar crashes over me like a wave, but it sounds distant now, muffled, unreal. All I can feel is the ladder digging into my spine and the slow, terrifying realization that I missed… and I may have given everything I had left.

Hana_Jeong: I lie there almost completely knocked out, my body draped across the ladder like something discarded, barely held together by instinct alone. My vision swims—lights smear into white halos above me, then blink out, then come back again. I don’t know how long I’m gone for. Seconds? An eternity? Blood runs freely now. Warm, sticky, unstoppable. It trickles from my forehead, down the bridge of my nose, soaking into my lips, dripping off my chin and splashing darkly onto the steel beneath me. It mixes with tears I don’t even remember starting to cry—hot, involuntary, leaking out of the corners of my eyes as my face tightens in silent agony. My chest barely rises. Each breath is shallow, trembling, like my body is forgetting how to stay alive. My fingers twitch weakly, scraping uselessly against the cold metal rung beside me. My dangling leg sways again, slower this time, responding to nothing but gravity. I feel… so far away. The pain is still there—deep, catastrophic—but it’s dulled now, wrapped in cotton, distant, as if it belongs to someone else. My ears ring violently, a high-pitched whine drowning out the crowd. Somewhere inside that noise, I hear my own sobbing, broken and small, leaking out of me with each breath. I taste iron. Salt. Blood and tears together. My eyes flutter open for a moment, unfocused, glassy, staring at nothing. I don’t see you. I don’t see the ring. I don’t even see the ladder. I’m just… barely alive.

Sara_León: The sound of your fall echoes in my ears, making me bring both hands to them and curl up in a fetal position, pressing my palms against my head and squeezing my eyes shut. I stay like that for several seconds. I hear the crowd in the background, but only one thought assaults me—“please be alive...” Slowly, I open my eyes and pull my hands away from my face, turning and letting the stadium’s stimuli flood back in. The entire crowd is chanting in unison, excited, but you barely move. I see you lying there, and suddenly I start to hear your breathing. I let out a sigh of relief and begin to pull myself up, leaning on the ladder. I crawl until I reach your position, ending up on my knees in front of your face, and I move your hair aside to see if your eyes are open. I bring a hand to my mouth, smiling and crying when I see you’re still conscious, and I place both hands on your cheeks, bringing my face close to yours, and whispering: “That... That was the most impressive thing I’ve ever seen in my life... You’re completely insane...”

Hana_Jeong: My vision swims, but I feel you there before I really see you. My hand lifts weakly, fingers trembling as they find the back of your head. I curl them into your hair—not pulling, not hurting—just anchoring myself to something real, something familiar. I guide you closer, our foreheads almost touching, my breath shallow and uneven against your skin. My chest barely rises as I force the words out. “Sara…” My voice is wrecked, barely more than air, cracking as it leaves me. Tears spill again, cutting through the blood on my face as my grip tightens just enough to keep you there with me. Our blood and tears mixing together. “You are… and you always will be… the better woman…” I sob, the sound ugly and broken, my body shuddering on the ladder beneath me. My thumb brushes weakly against your temple, a ghost of a touch, the last tenderness I can give. “You deserve this…” I whisper, eyes fluttering, fading in and out as the world pulses. “…finish me.” And then I just stay there, holding you close with what little strength I have left, breathing because you’re right in front of me—because you’re real—because letting go feels like falling into nothing.

Sara_León: I bite my lip, shaking my head and letting a tear fall as you speak, as I squeeze your cheeks with both hands. “No… There is no better woman. No matter what happens, we are sisters. And no title, no company, nothing can change that… What we’ve lived together…” I close my eyes, trying to regulate my breathing… “I want… I want to ask you for forgiveness, Hana… Because I haven’t managed to make you feel admired by me the way I truly admire you…” I nod, crying with my eyes closed, resting my forehead against yours, and I take a breath again… “Now I’m going to finish you, okay…? The crowd adores you like they will never adore me… Let’s make it memorable…”

Hana_Jeong: My chest trembles as your words sink in, deeper than any blow ever could. I nod slowly, tears spilling freely now, mixing with the blood on my cheeks. My hand slides up again, this time gently, lovingly, my fingers threading through the back of your hair. I cradle your head the way I used to, the way sisters do when the world is too heavy. “Yes… you are,” I whisper, my voice breaking completely. “And I love you for that…” I choke on a sob, my shoulders shaking as I press my forehead harder against yours, clinging to you like you’re the last solid thing left in the world. “Fulfill your dream…” I murmur through tears, my thumb stroking the nape of your neck in a slow, tender caress. “You deserve it… every second of it…” I close my eyes, still touching you, still holding you close, offering you my body, my sister love and my soul, everything I have left, breathing you in one last time as if engraving this moment into my soul forever.

Sara_León: For the first time in the whole match, my heart begins to beat more slowly. Still fast, still frantic, but without anxiety. The tears mix with my blood, and I start to hear the crowd growing restless. Our hair covers our faces, making this moment something completely intimate. Holding your cheeks, I tilt your head and kiss your forehead, closing my eyes… and whispering: “I’m sorry for what I’m about to do… But we owe it to them…” And then I pull away from you and slowly rise, looking defiantly at the crowd. I raise two of my fingers, showing them to the audience, and run them slowly across my forehead, soaking them in blood. Then I smear them across one cheek, then the other, forming two improvised Spanish flags on them, wiping away the tracks of the tears. The crowd starts to buzz with me again, I have their attention once more. I clench my fists tightly, close my eyes, and let out a lioness’s roar, riling the crowd up…

Hana_Jeong: I remain folded over the ladder bridge, my body sagging in a way that doesn’t even feel human anymore. My arms hang uselessly, fingers twitching now and then. My legs dangle in the air, heavy, unresponsive, like they don’t belong to me. Every breath is shallow, scraped out of my chest with effort, my ribs aching, my head ringing, vision blurred by blood and tears. I hear the crowd shift fully to your side. The sound washes over me like a tide I no longer have the strength to fight. I don’t want to fight it anymore. My heartbeat slows, no longer frantic, no longer driven by anger. The hatred that carried me this far finally drains out of me, leaving behind what was always there underneath—my tenderness, my loyalty, that instinct to give for you rather than take for me. I’m aware of how exposed I am, how helpless I look, draped there like a sacrifice laid out for the end. I’m completely at your mercy now. However I'm proud of myself, I showed you how courageous I am. I close my eyes, my cheek pressed against the cold metal, and all I can do is pray silently—for a clean finish, for a quick knockout, for you not to hesitate. Despite everything… despite the pain, the blood, the way my body feels ruined and spent… a faint smile tugs at my lips. Deep inside, I’m happy for you. This is what you dreamed of. This is what you trained for. And if I have to be the one you step over to reach it… then I gladly accept it.

Sara_León: My legs falter for a moment, and I lean on the ladder, which creaks. I realize that I’m still very weak, I’m exhausted, and every muscle in my body is burning, but I force myself to continue. I see that the ladder has cracked in the area where you fell. I grimace in pain when I think of you, of that brutal blow, of your current suffering. But I know who I must be now… I have to be the Red Lioness… for you, for the crowd. I could pin you right there, but it’s not what you want, and much less what the stands want, so I close my eyes, breathe in, and prepare myself to give the final spectacle of the night. Gathering the strength I have left, I climb heavily onto the ladder, feeling its instability. I stand up and move toward you, looking at you at my feet. I sigh, and my expression changes. I crouch down and grab you by the hair with both hands, hard, violently, pulling you, trying to get you to your feet, creating that image for the audience that they so desperately want to see. “I hope you forgive me…” I say to myself, while I show the fans my bloodied face, those feline, crazed eyes, that fighter’s rage about to finish off her opponent. Then I give a violent yank on your head toward me, tucking it between my thighs, and clamping them tightly against your temples. Once I have you secured, I raise my thumb and slowly slide it across my throat, sending a very clear message to which the crowd responds by rising to their feet and screaming in anticipation

Hana_Jeong: When you grab me by the hair, a sharp, burning pain explodes across my scalp, so sudden it steals what little air I had left. A broken groan rips out of me before I can stop it, raw and humiliating, my head forced where my body no longer wants to go. I struggle just to keep some kind of balance on the shattered ladder bridge, my boots scraping uselessly against the metal as it creaks beneath us. My hands lift on instinct, weak, trembling, and instead of fighting you, they just paw gently at your tights, fingers barely curling, a silent confession to you and to everyone watching: I have nothing left. No resistance. No trick. No miracle. For a split second, fear cuts through the fog. Real fear. Not of losing—but of how fragile my body feels, how close everything is to going dark for good. My chest tightens, my breath stutters… and then I force it back down. I have to be brave. Just this once more. I lift my face as much as you allow, blood dripping from my chin, eyes glassy but locked on you. My voice comes out hoarse, barely louder than the crowd’s roar, but it’s meant only for you. “Please…Sara... put me out of my misery... with dignity…” I sob and cry at the same time. My legs tremble violently beneath me, muscles finally giving up the lie that they can still hold me. One knee buckles without warning and drops, metal clanging beneath it, my whole body sagging there between your thighs

Sara_León: The ladder keeps creaking. You drop to one knee, collapsing, with nothing left to give but your defeated body. Fear takes hold of me for a moment — “please break in half, just when I jump…” I think to myself, while I maintain a savage façade for the stadium. If this works, it will be memorable. Blood runs down my cheek and begins to drip onto your exposed back. I squeeze your head with my trembling thighs, spending every gram of energy on staying upright. And then, I begin… I lean over your back, my belly and my chest pressing against the sweat on your back, and I stretch both arms forward, crossing your arms and finally trapping your thighs. I take a breath, gather my strength, and murmur “One last effort…” And with a shout, I pull with my arms upward, straightening up, managing to lift all your weight, squeezing you against me as if you were my most precious treasure, in position to deliver a package piledriver… onto a metal ladder on the verge of breaking. The effort is so great that I clench my teeth and a tear escapes me, my face marked by pain, making one final effort, one last display of strength, for you, for the fans… Your thighs begin to slip from my grip, and I can’t hold you in the air for more than a second, so, closing my eyes, I leap forward and stretch my legs, letting myself fall…

Hana_Jeong: The instant you pull me up and everything inverts, my world collapses into a single, terrifying point. Blood rushes violently to my head, pouring freely now, warm and unstoppable, running across my face and dripping downward as I’m folded, trapped, upside down against you. My neck screams, my spine feels like it’s being compressed into itself, and I can’t stop the sob that breaks out of me — not from pain alone, but from knowing exactly what’s coming and accepting it. Time fractures. In those last fractions of a second, flashes tear through my mind like shattered film: Me as a kid, barefoot, running on cracked pavement, dreaming of rings and lights. My first bruises, worn like medals. Your laugh on my birthday, cake on your fingers. Christmas far from home, wrapped in blankets, promising each other we’d make it. The way we laughed when I got drunk for the first time. Pillow fights in that tiny room, collapsing together, breathless, invincible. Always you. Tears stream from my eyes, mixing with the blood, falling freely as I cling instinctively to your arms, not to escape, but to trust my body to you. The greatest show of loyalty and trust I could ever give to you. My body is completely surrendered now, no tension left to protect me, no instinct left to fight it. I cry openly, helplessly, my voice breaking as my body starts to drop. When you leap forward, everything goes weightless for the briefest, cruelest moment.

Sara_León: A single instant and my whole life flashes before my eyes. The dream is so close… And it wouldn’t be this close if it weren’t for that woman I clutch in my exhausted arms with such strength. That guardian angel I never deserved, that travel companion without whom I never would’ve come this far, that comforting presence in times of loneliness and longing, that warrior willing to teach me everything she knows, that intimate friend now clinging to my arms, surrendering to me, for my happiness, for my dream, out of love for me… *KKKRRAAAAWWWWWWMMMM!!!* The ladder snaps in two when we finally crash down on it, destroying it in the wildest package piledriver I’ve ever seen, smashing your skull against the metal, knocking you out once and for all, finishing you, giving you that rest you begged me for, in a display of strength and brutality. I collapse next to you, the metal tearing into my skin, blood starting to pour from my arms and back, and releasing your limp body, now completely lifeless, under a thunderous roar from the crowd. Exhaustion clouds me, but I can see all the fans on their feet, watching, and I know there’s only one thing left to do… I grab your shoulder and turn you over, crushing my body against yours, against the broken ladder, and resting my head on your shoulder, panting, with no strength left, as the referee comes to us and slaps her palm against the ladder, shouting in rhythm with the crowd: “ONE!!…”

Hana_Jeong: The moment we crash, a guttural scream is torn out of me — raw, animal, the last sound of a defeated female warrior emptied of everything she had. “A—AAAAAARRRGHHHHH—!!” And then… nothing holds. My body goes completely limp. I collapse over the twisted, broken ladder like dead weight, boneless, useless — my limbs splayed at wrong angles, my head lolling to the side. Blood floods my face, warm and sticky, mixing with sweat and grime until I can’t tell where one ends and the other begins. My chest barely moves. One elbow pad has slipped halfway down my right arm, hanging uselessly, just like the rest of me. The world cuts to black. The pain is so agonizing that I stop feeling it, only the little foam coming out of my mouth shows that my body took overwhelming punishment, probably 10 times more than what a normal woman could take. The only thing that reaches me through the darkness is warmth. Your body pressed against mine. Your breath on my neck. Your familiar scent — sweat, iron, effort, blood — grounding me in the faintest way. It’s the only proof I’m still here. That I survived. Somewhere far away, impossibly distant, I hear it. “…ONE!!…” The sound feels underwater. Muffled. Unreal. My body doesn’t respond. It can’t. I’m beyond will now. Beyond pride. Beyond resistance. “…TWO!!…” I’m barely alive — hanging on by instinct alone — a broken offering sprawled beneath you, completely spent, completely given, breathing only because my body hasn’t remembered how to stop yet.

Sara_León: “THREE!! RING THE BELL!!” I hear it, but I feel nothing. I can’t move either. I just want to stay there, lying still. The pin becomes a strange embrace I don’t want to be pulled away from. Suddenly I realize I’ve won — but I’ve lost you. And all I want is to stay next to you, clinging to your shoulders, pressing my forehead to your chest, crying with joy and helplessness, feeling the beat of your exhausted heart, your blood running down your face. The referee tries to lift me, but eventually two members of the Japanese staff appear, grabbing me by the shoulders and pulling me away from you, my body hanging from them, no more energy, no more strength left to give. Medics rush to your side while I’m helped up to the ring, and the referee raises my hand. For a second, I see the audience clapping. They’ve been doing it since the bell rang. They’re all on their feet, haven’t stopped for two minutes. Tears escape me again, seeing the recognition, the victory. The dream fulfilled, at last. But my legs fail again and I collapse next to the referee, hanging for a moment from her arm, until she helps me up again and assists me out of the ring. I search desperately for you with my eyes but I can’t see you anymore…

Hana_Jeong: my eyes barely crack open. Everything is blurred but I see you. Standing victorious like the true amazon you are… and smiling through tears. You look happy.. And somehow, seeing that hurts less than everything else. My fingers twitch. Once.. Then my toes. A sharp breath tears out of my chest as realization hits me harder than any move in the match. I’m not paralyzed. A paramedic girl is suddenly in my face, calm but fast, her hands checking my pupils, my neck, my arms. She speaks quickly in Japanese to another woman from the staff. I understand enough. I’m not in danger. ITwo men arrive with a stretcher and start to slide it under me, and panic spikes through the fog. I grab weakly at one of their sleeves, my voice coming out hoarse, barely more than breath. “No… please… I want to leave on my feet…” They hesitate. One of them looks at the medic. She studies my face for a long second, then nods once. They help me up. The moment my weight shifts onto my legs, agony explodes through my body. My knees almost buckle instantly, a broken sound tearing out of my throat, and my vision whites out again for a second. My muscles feel like glass. My back is screaming. My head pounds with every heartbeat. But they hold me. One on each side, arms under mine, keeping me upright as I take the smallest steps imaginable , dragging my feet more than lifting them. Every movement hurts worse now that the adrenaline is gone, the cold air biting into my soaked, blood-caked skin. And as they guide me toward the exit… I see you again. Farther away now. Near the fans. Being helped, being praised, preparing to receive the trophy. The crowd is still roaring for you. I’m being dragged out, barely standing, my head hanging, blood drying on my face . Despite everything… despite the pain, the loss, the wreck I’ve become… I feel something warm in my chest. You made it. And even as they pull me farther from the ring, every step tearing me apart, I know that I helped build that moment for you.

Hana_Jeong: The paramedic girl finishes the last stitch on my forehead, her fingers steady, even gentle but it still hurts like hell. Every pull of the thread sends a sharp sting through my skull, making my jaw clench and my breath hitch despite myself. “There,” she says, cutting the suture. She looks at me for a long moment as someone who’s genuinely shaken. “I’ve never seen a rookie take that much punishment . You were very lucky honestly, you could have died .” I force a small smile. As if that could make her words lighter. As if I don’t already feel how close the edge was. She hands me an ice pack and taps my right side gently, where every breath still burns. “Ice on the ribs before you shower. Take it slow.” Then she leaves. And the moment the locker room door closes behind her, everything collapses. I sit there on the bench alone, ice pressed uselessly against my ribs, and the tears finally come. Not pretty ones. Not quiet ones. They just spill out, mixing with dried blood and sweat, my shoulders shaking as I try to keep it together. From somewhere far away, through the concrete walls, I hear your music still playing. I hear the crowd. I hear them shouting your name. That’s when it really hits me. My contract is done. No renewal. No next tour. Tomorrow I’ll be on a train, then a plane, heading back to my hometown like this was just a chapter that closed itself without asking. It was good while it lasted, I think. And lovingly too. I reach into my bag with trembling fingers and pull out the small, creased photo I’ve carried everywhere. The one from that photo booth in the Tokyo subway we took after our first match as a tag team. Both of us crammed into the frame, making goofy faces, cheeks squished together, eyes bright, exhausted but happy. I smile through the tears. It hurts my ribs, my head, my whole body but that smile is real. Because despite the pain, the loss, the ending… Seeing you happy out there tonight made all of it worth it.

Sara_León: Some medics are helping me, walking with me through the backstage halls. They’ve cleaned my wounds but want to treat them properly and run a check-up, but as we pass by the locker room door, I ask if you're still inside, and they say yes. So I ask to go in, to have a moment alone with you. They protest, ask me to wait, but I push past them urgently and open the door, finding you alone, sitting, crying, looking at a photograph. I close the locker room door behind me, catching your attention. I wait for you to look at me, and I can’t hold back a bittersweet smile as I limp toward you…

Hana_Jeong: My heart drops straight into my stomach. For a second I just stare, caught, embarrassed, suddenly very aware of how red my eyes must be, how wrecked I look. I wasn’t ready for this. I wasn’t ready to be seen like this. I hurriedly try to hide the photo, fumbling it back into my bag, knocking the ice pack to the floor in the process. “Ah— sorry— I mean—” I bend to grab it, then wince and stop halfway, realizing how stupid that was. I let out a small, awkward laugh that dies immediately. “I… didn’t think you’d—” I swallow, my voice cracking. I clear my throat and try again, softer. “I thought you’d still be… you know… with the doctors. Or the trophy. Or… everyone.” I glance at the bench beside me, then back at you, unsure what to do with my hands, my body, my feelings. “Uh… congratulations,” I add, way too formally, gesturing vaguely in your direction like I’m talking to a stranger instead of the woman who just shattered me — and saved me — out there. Another nervous pause. “I was just… getting ready to leave,” I lie badly, my eyes betraying me immediately. Then I sigh and give up, shoulders slumping. “I’m really glad you won,” I say finally, quietly, honestly. “I just… wasn’t expecting to see you again.”

Sara_León: I walk slowly toward you as you speak, awkward, embarrassed, unintentionally lying to me, a mess of emotions, being the same adorable Hana as always. A small smile starts to form on my face every time you try to say something. And finally, once I’m close enough, I don’t let you finish your last sentence — my arms simply wrap around your body in a warm and sincere hug, not too tight, but enough for you to feel me there beside you, my body against yours, finally without any intention of hurting you, just holding you like I always did when you needed it. “Right now I just want to be with you, Hana…” I say softly, stroking your head, not letting go of the hug, resting your forehead against my shoulder, inviting you to lean into it

Hana_Jeong: The moment your arms wrap around me, everything I was holding back just breaks. I gasp — a small, ugly sound — and my body gives in completely, folding into you like it was waiting for permission. My forehead presses into your shoulder, my fingers clutching weakly at the fabric of your gear, and the tears come all at once, hot and unstoppable. My shoulders shake, my breath stutters, and I don’t even try to hide it anymore. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry…” I murmur at first, not even knowing what I’m apologizing for. For crying, for having hurt you, for losing, for leaving, for loving you this much. I bury my face against you, breathing you in — that familiar mix of sweat, blood, tape, you — and I let myself be small, fragile, exactly what I’ve always been underneath everything. “I love you,” I say finally, my voice breaking completely. “I love you so much… more than I ever knew how to say.” My hand slides up shakily, resting at the back of your head, fingers trembling as I caress you, slow and careful, like I’m afraid you might disappear for good this time. “I’d do it all again,” I sob softly. “Every bump, every hit… every second. I swear I would. Exactly the same way.” I pull back just enough to look at you through blurred, tear-filled eyes. “Just to see you like this. Shining. Living your dream. Hearing them chant your name.” A weak, watery smile escapes me. “I’m so happy for you,” I whisper. “So proud of you. This… this is everything you worked for. Everything you deserve.” I lean back into you again, exhausted, broken, but peaceful for the first time tonight. “Thank you for letting me be part of it,” I murmur.

Sara_León: I caress your neck and head as you speak, letting you pour your heart out, and… well, and beginning to shed tears myself too. Silent tears, of course, so you don’t stop talking, so you don’t worry about me, so you can say what you need to say. Your words crash into my heart one after another, making me feel like I don’t deserve you, like I’ve never treated you with the love and care that you’ve always shown me, without knowing why I’m lucky enough to have you as a friend, to have you by my side. I don’t understand it, but I want to embrace it, I want to be the person you see in me. I feel your trembling fingers holding onto me, and I let you touch me, let you hug me, give my whole body over to your expression of love… And then, when I feel you’ve said everything you needed to, I try to contain my emotions, and I take your arms, gently pulling you back from me and looking into your eyes, knowing you’re going to see me cry, but thinking this is more important. I bite my lip for a second, unable to find the right words, looking into those adorable, honest, exhausted eyes, full of love and admiration for me. “Hana… I have to tell you something…” I pause, taking a breath and watching your reaction

Hana_Jeong: I shake my head softly the moment you say my name like that, before the weight of whatever you’re about to confess can fall between us. “Shhh…” My hands rise on instinct, trembling, and I cup your cheeks very gently, my thumbs brushing under your eyes as if I could stop the tears there — as if I had any right to. “Don’t,” I whisper, already crying again, my voice cracking badly. “Please… not now.” I force a weak, crooked smile through the tears, even though my lips won’t stop shaking. “Sara… you have to celebrate,” I sob. “You have to live this moment. Enjoy it. Breathe it in.” I swallow hard, my chest hitching. “It’s your fucking dream come true.” The words hit me too, and I know it — I hear how desperate they sound, how much I’m trying to convince myself as much as you. “I swear… believe me,” I add quickly, nodding as if that will make it true. “I’m so happy for you. Truly. This… this is everything. You earned it. Every bruise, every mile, every night we wondered if it was worth it.” My thumbs linger against your skin, memorizing you, like this might be the last time I’m allowed to touch you. “I’ll be fine,” I say softly — too softly. “I always am.” My eyes drop for a second, and when I look back up, they’re shining again.

Sara_León: My hands are trembling as I reach for your wrists, sliding them gently down. I swallow hard, overwhelmed, knowing I can’t let you say another word or I’ll break completely. I shake my head, close my eyes, and start speaking in a rush, trying not to look at you so I can get the words out without falling apart. “I know, I know… I believe you… I really do… And I’m so grateful… And I know I should be celebrating, but even if I had nothing to say, I’d still only want to do that *with you*, okay??” I pause, catching a ragged breath before continuing… “I wouldn’t have achieved any of this without you… And if there’s anyone who deserves this more than me, it’s you… And no matter how happy I am, and no matter how much you insist, I’ll *never* stop blaming myself for not letting you pass…” I see you start to protest but I lift a hand quickly, firmly, eyes still closed, silencing you. “The thing is… you’re not moving up to the roster. But… you don’t have to go home if you don’t want to, Hana…” I open my eyes again and meet yours directly. I push forward, speaking before my tears can win. “I asked to be the one to tell you in person… They’re impressed, and they want you to stay… You’ll have another shot in a few months. You can stay in Japan if that’s what you want…” I swallow hard, and my gaze softens into something reverent, something that trembles when I say, “It was that moonsault, Hana… they say they want you. They’re going to ask you to stay…” I nod slowly, swallowing again, the words unbearably heavy on my tongue. “And… I want you to stay too… I…” But the sentence catches in my throat, and I can’t finish it, my eyes completely filled now, but the tears still refusing to fall — just choking me silently as I look at you

Hana_Jeong: For a second I just stare at you, my eyes opening wide, my breath catching hard in my throat. “What the fuck…?” The word slips out almost stupidly, like my brain can’t catch up with what you just said. “But… I didn’t win,” I whisper, shaking my head. “I lost the tournament…” My heart starts racing again, too fast, too loud. A storm of thoughts crashes into me all at once — that moonsault… staying… Stardom… — and for a terrifying instant, something selfish tries to surface. Why me? Am I really good?... Or am I so much better than her to the point they me want to stay despite being the defeated one?" I shut that down immediately, almost violently. Tonight isn’t about that. It’s her night. I let out a shaky breath and laugh softly through it, completely overwhelmed. “Oh my god… I— I don’t know what to say,” I confess, my voice breaking. “I’ve already booked my plane ticket.” I look down for a moment, pressing my lips together, then lift my eyes back to yours. They’re already full, already drowning me. “Sara…” My voice cracks on your name. “You will always be the better woman,” I say honestly, fiercely. “My role model. The one I chased, the one who dragged me forward when I was too scared to believe in myself.” Tears finally spill over, hot and unstoppable, running down my cheeks as my hands tremble between us. “I never wanted to outshine you,” I sob. “I would lose again for you. Because watching you chase your dream made everything worth it.” I take a step closer, my chest heaving now, emotions completely loose. “And yes,” I whisper, crying openly now, no filters left. “Of course I want to stay.” I shake my head, laughing weakly through tears. ” My hands clutch lightly at your arms, grounding myself in you. “But tonight,” I add softly, urgently, “tonight is yours. Don’t let this steal even one second of that. Please.”

Sara_León: I bite my lips as you speak, not letting the tears fall, pressing so hard it hurts, wanting to let you speak, to process it, but terrified with every word you say that you’re about to walk away, that you’re going to leave me, that I’ll be alone again… I nod awkwardly when you praise me again. Damn woman… And finally you say yes, and I shut my eyes tightly, a stream of tears breaking free — tears of relief, of joy, of love, of something I can’t control anymore. I nod instinctively when you ask me to let the night be yours, but I cut you off mid-sentence, throwing myself into your arms, hugging you tightly, ignoring the pain, holding you against me, crying… “Thank you… thank you… thank you… Thank you so much, Hana… thank you…” I begin repeating over and over, impulsively, not letting go, just soaking in a victory far greater than the one in the ring… The victory of keeping you by my side. “I promise I’ll enjoy tonight… Now I can, now I really can… And I want you with me…”

Hana_Jeong: I sniff hard, still half crushed in your arms, my face a mess, and then I pull back just enough to look at you. My lips tremble for a second… and then I do that thing I always do when everything gets too real. I bite my lip again, wipe my nose clumsily with the back of my hand, and say, trying way too hard to sound serious: “Okay… okay… but—” I pause, eyes shining, then tilt my head a little. “You’ll only have me tonight with you… if we’re going to our favorite noodle place.” I force a crooked, goofy smirk through the tears, one eyebrow lifting like I’ve just made the most important stipulation of my life. “The one with the grumpy old Japanese lady who hates everyone,” I add, nodding. “I’m not negotiating on that.” For a second there’s silence. Then I see it — that look on your face. That tiny shake of your head like if you're saying that I'm crazy like "is this girl real?". I laugh, really laugh, the sound cracking and ugly and free, and before you can say anything I start peeling off my elbow pads, wincing but not caring, and toss them up in the air like I’ve just won a prize. “YEEEEEEEYYY!!” I turn and bolt toward the showers, limping, half-running, ignoring every protest my body throws at me.

Hana_Jeong: Because tonight I didn’t lose. I didn’t disappear. I didn’t walk away alone. Sometimes you don’t win the tournament. Sometimes your name isn’t the one on the trophy. But if you’re still standing beside the friend who matters — laughing, hurting, fighting dreaming, together — then every sacrifice meant something. And in the end… everything is survivable, everything is meaningful, when you have the right companion walking next to you. (END)