NEW - NOIR EXTREME WRESTLING

Sara_León:

Hana_Jeong: The solitude of the locker room is heavy (I asked Lauren to leave me alone), a suffocating blanket of silence that amplifies every ragged breath I take. The walls seem to be closing in, reflecting the turmoil churning in my gut. I’ve spent the last hour meticulously preparing, but every motion feels rehearsed, hollow. As I pull my elbow pads into place, the leather chafing against my skin, I attempt to stretch, hoping to alleviate the paralyzing tension in my shoulders. My movements are erratic, disjointed a physical manifestation of the war I’m fighting within myself. Facing Sara tonight isn't just a match; it’s a betrayal of the history we share. She is my best friend, the woman who has stood by me through the darkest chapters of my career, and yet, here I am, poised to tear her down for the sake of a gilded belt. My mind echoes with the grim reality: Sara Leon in her prime is the best woman wrestler I've ever seen. Victory requires a miracle, a desperate, violent stroke of luck that I’m not sure I deserve. I make a conscious, painful choice to leave my past behind. I tuck my family photograph and my lucky amulet deep into the recesses of my gear bag, zipping it shut as if sealing away my morality. If I am to become the monster necessary to dethrone her, I cannot bring their grace into this arena. They wouldn't recognize the person I have to become tonight.

Hana_Jeong:

Hana_Jeong: As I leave the locker room, I catch a glimpse of you. The sight of you stops me cold, and I immediately divert my gaze, burying my chin in my chest. I cannot look you in the eyes I can't afford to see the disappointment or the pity. I repeat the mantra like a prayer, a desperate lie I’m trying to convince myself is the truth: This is for me. I deserve the gold. I deserve the spotlight. My music erupts, a jarring, aggressive track that cuts through the sterile air of the backstage. I march toward the curtain, head held high in a facade of ironclad determination. As I step out into the blinding lights of the Hammerstein Ballroom, the reception is immediate and cutting. The crowd surges with a venomous mix of boos, their disdain washing over me like icy water. I reach the ringside, where the massive steel cage looms, a dark, cruel structure that promises nothing but pain. The cold, metallic scent of the chain-link fills my senses, triggering a primal dread that even my experience in hardcore matches can't suppress. I step through the cage door, the heavy iron clanging shut behind me with a finality that feels like a prison door locking. The announcer’s voice rings out, amplified and electric, "From Seoul, the challenger... HANA JEEEOOOOONG!" I stand in the center of the ring, looking up at the high, unforgiving ceiling of the cage. The crowd’s jeers are a cacophony of disapproval, but as I tighten my laces, I force my heart to harden. The girl who cared about approval died in the locker room. Now, there is only the challenger.

Sara_León: As soon as I hear the boos, I instinctively lift my head. I watch your entrance from one of the monitors, and I feel a heavy pressure in my chest. You don't deserve this. Or well... I guess you do, after all. The image of your cold expression with a defeated Aïsha in your arms, sending me a message before knocking her unconscious with my own finisher, keeps haunting me, more than I want to admit. Lauren's taunts in public, on the federation's social media, seeing you walk through the hallways like a ghost, stripped of all the sweetness that has always defined you... It all feels like a genuine fever dream, where nothing fits and everything seems out of place. Every second I regret giving you this match, only to immediately remind myself that I have no other choice. I can't keep running from your hatred, or your obsession, or from you or Lauren. If I have to fight for you, it has to be today. If I have to fight for the NEW Championship, it has to be today. I adjust my wristbands and shake out my arms, nodding to the staff member before my music begins to play. I then walk out onto the ramp with an expression far colder than I would have liked, even as I'm greeted with cheers and applause. I look around without showing any expression, though internally grateful to have the support of the crowd. Slowly, I raise my championship belt with one hand....

Sara_León:

Sara_León: And I get emotional. I grip that championship belt with all my strength, feeling a knot in my stomach as I realize that I am the champion of all those people. I begin walking down the ramp without lowering the title, displaying it with dignity and pride, while also sending a message to you: I'm not just going to fight against you. I'm going to fight to defend the dignity of this championship. I walk with firm steps toward the cage and hand the title to the referee before stepping inside. I hear the metallic clang of the door closing behind me, and I feel a certain sense of relief. Fighting inside a cage was my demand. I didn't want Lauren to be able to interfere. If I had to face you, I was going to make sure it was just the two of us. And my gaze becomes brutally feline when it finally meets yours. You're different, yes... But I know you well enough to recognize when you feel like a cornered rabbit with no way out. And it feels so good to see that in you right now. Because I've never been so certain that this match isn't against you, but against your poisoned mind. I head to my corner and begin stretching without saying a single word to you, completely giving up on dialogue, depriving you of any comfort or tool. You wanted the lioness, and the lioness has come out to hunt

Sara_León:

Hana_Jeong: When you raise that championship belt, the sight of it, that gold, that prestige, stings more than the physical injuries I’m carrying. You look like a queen and I'm not and will never be half of the woman you are. You don't deserve the hatred I've been throwing at you, and deep down, in the parts of me that haven't been poisoned by Lauren’s whispers, I still see you as my biggest admiration. But I can't back down. As you step inside and the heavy steel door clangs shut, I feel the air leave the room. It’s just us. No distractions, no escapes. When your eyes lock onto mine, that feline intensity cuts straight through my facade. You see right through me—you see the cornered rabbit, the woman terrified of her own choices. I try to reach for that well of hatred I’ve been cultivating, hoping it will turn into a weapon, but the shame of meeting your gaze is almost unbearable. The bell rings. DING! The roar of the Hammerstein Ballroom swells, a tidal wave of sound chanting your name, worshipping you, while Lauren’s taunts from the outside only make me feel more isolated. I remain idle, my feet rooted to the mat, struggling to process the reality of this cage. When I finally meet your eyes again, I see the hunter waiting for her prey. I start to circle, but my movements are jagged and cowardly. I’m not looking for a lock-up; I’m drifting toward the edges of the ring, trying to put as much canvas as possible between us, my hands raised in a defensive posture rather than an offensive one.

Hana_Jeong:

Hana_Jeong:

Sara_León: When the bell finally rings, I immediately raise my arms into a strong defensive stance and step toward the center of the ring, only to realize that you don't come to meet me. I look at you with confused eyes as I move closer, only to watch you slide along the ropes, never turning your back on me, but avoiding a direct confrontation. A stab of emotional pain pierces through me. Not only has your sweetness and your loyalty been taken from you, your courage has been taken as well. And I simply can't bear it. I step back, remaining in the center of the ring with my eyes wide, almost offended, and spread my arms out to either side, shouting at you without an ounce of pity or mercy in my voice: "What the fuck is wrong with you, Hana??!! Has that bitch poisoned your brain so much that you don't even have any courage left??!!" I beckon you closer with my arms. "Come on!! Attack me!! Fucking coward!! Are you afraid of your EX-best friend??"

Hana_Jeong: Your taunts hit me like a physical slap, cutting through the haze of my panic and replacing it with a burning, volatile surge of resentment. The chant from the crowd“Sara’s gonna kill ya!”reverberates off the steel mesh, turning the entire arena into a tribunal that has already condemned me. My fear is still there, trembling in my legs, but it’s being suffocated by the sudden, sharp spike of hatred that your words provoked. "ARRGGGHH!" I scream, the sound tearing from my throat as I finally stop retreating. With a desperate burst of adrenaline, I launch myself across the mat, closing the distance in a blur of motion. I crash into you, my hands locking firmly into a neck-and-tie collar tie-up. As our bodies collide and we strain against each other in the center of the ring, I don't just hold the grip. I drive my forehead into your jawline with a sharp, malicious crunch, and while we are chest-to-chest, I hiss into your ear, my voice trembling with a toxic mix of bitterness and betrayal: "I’m not scared of you. I’m scared of how much I wasted my time with a bitch like you."

Hana_Jeong:

Sara_León: You charge at me, and even though I was ready for you to hit me, I instinctively raise my guard, meeting you in the collar tie-up and stopping your momentum as we collide in the center of the ring, smiling as I see you back in action. However, your forehead crashes into my jaw, making me turn my face away with a groan of pain and causing me to lose part of my strength, so I begin slowly giving ground against you as you hiss those trembling words into my ear. And that's when I realize your hatred no longer has any effect on me. Your hurtful words are nothing but fuel for the fire burning inside me. Memories rush through my mind: your first signs of indifference when I arrived at Noir, your first stances against me, your first attacks, the distance you put between us. That emptiness and suffering from feeling you slipping away, that fear of losing you. Misaki's taunts, making me see how you had abandoned me... And finally that last confrontation, where you shattered every last hope of reconciliation or peace. There's nothing left for me to fear anymore. You can't hurt me any further. So I smile even as I'm being pushed backward and answer you: "Oh yeah? Well, it looks like you're going to be spending quite a while with me today, so don't waste it, sweetheart~"

Hana_Jeong: The smile on your face is more damaging than any punch you could have thrown. It tells me everything I need to know: you aren't fighting for your life, you’re playing with your prey. The realization hits me with cold, sickening clarity. I’m pushing against you with everything I have, but you’re grounded, solid as an oak, while I’m vibrating with a mix of exhaustion and misplaced rage. My own words failed to reach you, they bounced off that champion’s armor you’ve built, and now I’m the one feeling the strain, my lungs burning and my balance wavering. We reach the ropes. I see my chance a fleeting, desperate opening. I abruptly break the tie-up, using the momentum of your own weight as I yank your arm down and hard across my chest, spinning you around. I try to shove you toward the center of the ring into a powerful Irish whip toward the opposite side

Sara_León: I can feel you trembling. I see the fear in your eyes, and suddenly I realize I'm far above you. Confidence completely washes over me. Not necessarily the confidence that I'm going to win, but the certainty that I'm the one who's going to dictate the pace of this match. My back reaches the ropes and you yank my arm with force, sending me running. I reach the opposite ropes, propelled by your Irish whip, and turn around to press my back against them so I can rebound toward you again. And I don't even hesitate. I accelerate my run and launch myself into the air as soon as I reach you, tucking my legs before extending them at the last moment, aiming to slam both feet into your chest with a dropkick!!

Hana_Jeong: I only get a handful of shallow breaths to steady myself before you are already hurtling back across the ring like a heat-seeking missile. I don't even have time to bring my guard up. PAASSSSHHH! The impact of your dropkick is devastatingly clean, both of your boots slamming directly into the center of my chest. The air is violently forced from my lungs in a sharp gasp as the momentum sends me flying backward across the canvas. My body hits the mat hard, rolling over backwards from the sheer velocity of the strike until I tumble near the center of the ring. Desperation completely takes over. Driven by pure panic and the terrifying realization that you are already dictating the pace, I scramble to my feet, my legs shaking slightly. I don't think, I don't plan, I just react. With a wild, frantic scream, I charge straight back at you in absolute despair. I swing my arm out wide, pouring every ounce of my remaining strength into a blind, roaring clothesline, throwing my whole upper body into the motion without even knowing if you're going to duck it or destroy me first.

Sara_León: I land on the mat after the dropkick and curl up to propel myself back to my feet, springing up in one motion and drawing a wave of admiration from the crowd. I glance at them briefly and smile before jolting as I realize you're charging straight at me. I immediately duck, but not before taking hold of your arm, letting it pass over my head as I spin around and grip your wrist tightly while raising one boot and planting it right beneath your jaw. "Que aproveche!" I tell you curtly in Spanish before trying to drop backward onto the mat, pulling your arm toward me and aiming to bend you forward so that your head crashes into my outstretched leg with an Eat Defeat!

Sara_León:

Hana_Jeong: The impact is absolute. Your boot connects with my jaw and like a spring sends my body flying backward like a ragdoll. The force snaps my head back, and I hit the canvas with a sickening thud, my momentum causing me to roll blindly until I finally come to a rest, sprawled out on my stomach. My senses are scrambled; the arena lights pulse in my vision like a strobe, and there’s a metallic, copper taste filling my mouth. My jaw throbs with a rhythmic, pulsing heat. I’m disoriented, my body reacting on pure, shattered instinct. I don't even know where I am in the ring

Sara_León: I get down on all fours and begin crawling toward you. I grab one of your shoulders and easily roll you over, leaving you on your back and realizing just how stunned you really are. Quickly, I lie on top of you, hooking one of your legs with one of my arms and trapping the other with my own legs behind me, crushing my chest against yours as I try my luck with the first pin of the match, while the referee drops to the mat and slaps it for the first time: "ONE!!!...."

Hana_Jeong:

Hana_Jeong: The world is spinning, a kaleidoscopic blur of the arena lights and the cold steel mesh looming above, but as I feel your weight settle onto my chest and the referee’s hand begin its descent, a primal, frantic spark of survival ignites in my brain. ONE!!! The sound of the slap against the mat sounds like a gunshot, echoing in my ringing ears. I can't let it end like this. I can't let you just pin me like I'm nothing. TWO!!! My heart hammers against your ribcage as the referee's hand swings down again. Driven by pure, desperate instinct, I thrash, slamming my heels into the canvas and arching my back with a raw, guttural cry, throwing my shoulders up and kicking my legs out in a violent, scrambling surge to break the count just before the three.

Sara_León: Your kick-out is so violent that you throw me off of you, making me fall beside you. I watch you in silence, trying to refrain from making any sarcastic remark, watching you suffer. With my gaze full of restrained pain at seeing you like this, I move closer and grab you by the hair, once again without saying anything, accompanied only by the crowd's chants. I pull on your scalp with cold professionalism until I bring you fully to your feet, where I swing my forearm into your face to keep you stunned and maintain a little more control over you

Hana_Jeong: The agony of your grip on my hair is sharp and blinding, forcing a pathetic, ragged sob to escape my throat. "Aaaahh.... ahhhhh..." I whimper, my fingers instinctively clawing at your hand, trying in vain to ease the tension on my scalp as I pull myself up. I am unsteady, my legs feeling like lead, and before I can even regain my balance, your forearm connects with my jaw with sickening force. The blow sends me stumbling, my body colliding clumsily against the steel cage ropes. I collapse against them, the cold metal biting into my back as I sag downward. I press my hands to my face, clutching my throbbing jaw, and look up at you. My eyes are wide, filled with a raw, primal fear that I can no longer hide.

Hana_Jeong:

Sara_León: I walk toward you and grab you by the hair before you can completely collapse, but your expression makes me stop. I haven't seen you like this since I gave you that beating in that nauseating indie club in Tokyo. I feel dizzy for a moment, wondering if I've become that person again. If I've failed as a friend once more, if I've really managed to repeat history without even realizing it. But it's Lauren's shouts from ringside that make me realize that none of this is the same as back then. Not long ago, Miriam and Aïsha looked at you the same way you're looking at me now. Refocusing, I try to grab your head and pull you fully upright, crushing your body against the ropes and taking hold of one of your wrists, once again in complete silence, preparing to send you toward the opposite ropes with an Irish whip

Hana_Jeong: You hurl me forward and I fly across the ring, my boots dragging heavily against the canvas as I scramble for any semblance of control. I don't rebound on the ropes. Instead, I grit my teeth and throw my arms out, hooking them firmly around the top rope. The sudden deceleration jars every bone in my body. As my weight swings back, the back of my head and my spine slam into the cold, unforgiving steel mesh of the cage fence.

Sara_León: I brace myself for your rebound, but instead you hook yourself onto the ropes and slam into the cage mesh, making the entire structure shudder around us. I tilt my head slightly in frustration, then sprint toward you. At the last possible moment, I leap high into the air, extending my knee and aiming to **DRIVE IT** straight into your skull, while preparing to grab the ropes and land on them

Hana_Jeong: I’m hanging there, draped over the ropes like a broken doll, my vision swimming. You sprint across the ring, a blur of focused, relentless intensity, and I see the exact moment you leave the canvas, your knee extended like a wrecking ball aimed directly for my skull. My eyes go wide, the terror finally giving way to a flicker of survival instinct. As you reach me, mid-air, I drop my center of gravity instantly. I duck, my body folding toward the mat, while my hands clamp down on the top rope with a desperate, white-knuckled grip.

Sara_León: I'm not even aware of seeing you move. -CLAAAANNKKKK!!- The sound of my knee smashing through the ropes and crashing into the cage is deafening, making the entire cage shake. I let out a howl of pain as my leg gets trapped between the ropes. I lose my balance and fall backward awkwardly, writhing until I finally slip through the ropes and land on the edge of the ring, in the narrow space between the ropes and the cage mesh, clutching my knee as I curse

Hana_Jeong: I catch my breath, the ringing in my ears finally subsiding just enough to process what I'm seeing. You’re tangled there, pinned by your own miscalculation, vulnerable in the narrow gap between the bottom rope and the cold steel mesh. For the first time tonight, the fear in my chest disappears briefly. I don't give you a second to untangle your knee or find your footing. I take three quick, rhythmic steps backward to gauge my distance, my eyes locked on your silhouette against the fence. I grit my teeth, pushing aside the lingering soreness in my own body, and sprint forward. I launch myself into the air, keeping my center of gravity low, and fully extend my legs for a desperate, driving low dropkick. My feet connect with your midsection with a dull, heavy thud, the force of the strike designed not just to hurt you, but to drive your spine directly into the unforgiving metal of the cage behind you.

Sara_León: I've barely managed to get myself into a somewhat natural position when suddenly, "UGGGHHHH!!" I feel your boots drive into my stomach, crushing it against the cage, the thin bars of cold metal digging into my back, the air rushing out of my lungs as my abs tense up. The impact shakes the entire cage once again, leaving me crushed against it in a seated position, my eyes shut tight and my teeth clenched

Hana_Jeong: The sight of you slumped against the cage, gasping for air, feels like a transfusion of adrenaline straight into my veins. The shame, the fear, the hesitation... it all dissolves, replaced by a dark, intoxicating sense of retribution. I don't give you a moment to recover. I step over to where you’re pinned, your back against the unforgiving links, and I plant the sole of my boot firmly under your chin. I reach up, gripping the middle rope to steady myself, and I begin to exert pressure, my leg straightening as I grind your throat back against the cold, jagged mesh of the cage. I lean into it, my face inches from yours, watching your eyes struggle to focus through the pain. My voice is low, raspy, and stripped of all the softness I once carried for you. "What were you saying, bitch?" I hiss, pushing harder until I hear you wheeze, pinning you securely against the steel. "I can't hear you."

Sara_León: I feel the sole of your boot drive mercilessly into my throat, crushing me against the mesh. I immediately open my mouth, desperately searching for air. My eyes fly wide open, but all I can see is your gaze, filled with renewed energy and hatred. I begin moving my legs, trying to find a good position to start getting back to my feet, but every inch I rise is a living hell of metal scraping across my back, so I collapse back into a seated position, my hands gripping your ankle while you insult and mock me. I feel my heartbeat quicken as the oxygen leaves me, and I begin gasping desperately, squeezing harder with my hands while the referee starts counting the time you're allowed to hold onto the middle rope as you torture me

Hana_Jeong:

Hana_Jeong: The referee’s voice is a distant, annoying buzzing in my ears, but his intervention forces my hand. Before he can physically pull me away, I deliver one final, heavy stomp directly into your throat, punctuating my disrespect, before I step back two paces, my chest heaving with exertion. I don't let you have the sanctuary of the mat. As you struggle for air, I lunge forward, burying my fingers into your auburn hair. I yank upward with a cruel, jerky motion, forcing you to your feet even as your legs threaten to buckle beneath you."Get up, bitch," I snarl, my voice dripping with the malice I'm trying to develop inside me. "Now dance for me." I don't wait for you to find your balance. I rotate my hips sharply, pivoting on my lead foot and drive a vicious, stinging low kick aiming directly into the back of your already-compromised, hurting knee with my kickpad.

Sara_León: "NUGGHHH!!" Your final stomp lands violently against my throat, making my whole body spasm against the cage. I begin coughing hoarsely as I try to catch my breath, slowly sliding down along the mesh and bringing a hand to my neck, but you don't let me rest, grabbing my hair and yanking it harshly and violently, making me scream in pain as I barely manage to get to my feet, completely controlled by you. My legs threaten to betray me, but it's your kick to the back of my knee that makes me let out a heart-rending howl of pain: "AAAARRGGHHHHH!!!", making me drop first to my knees in front of you and then slump back against the mesh again, feeling trapped in that small space between the ropes and the cage that you know so well how to take advantage of

Hana_Jeong: The howl of pain you let out as your knee gives way is the most beautiful sound I’ve heard all night. It’s the sound of the champion finally breaking. But I’m past the point of wanting to gloat; I’m here to finish this. I don’t wait for you to try and recover or reach for the ropes. I drop down, clamping my hands firmly around your ankle, and drag you forcefully across the canvas. You slide helplessly across the mat, leaving you stranded in the center of the ring, exposed and vulnerable with your back to the floor. I don't bother with flair or theatrics. I don't care about the crowd's reaction or the "high-flyer" label they’ve pinned on me. I am here to be a predator. I step over your body, spinning you around to face the direction I want. I hook your injured leg under my armpit, pulling it tight against my body to ensure there’s no slack. Then, I arch my back, stepping over your other leg and sitting down hard into the Single Leg Boston Crab. I lean back with all my weight, turning my hips to maximize the torque on your compromised knee. The hold isn't just about the joint; it's a crushing pressure that strains your lower back and forces your knee to twist in a direction it was never meant to go.

Sara_León:

Sara_León: I feel myself being dragged, trying to kick and struggle as I pass beneath the bottom rope and you pull me to the center of the ring while the crowd boos. But you don't seem to care. I'm groaning, still gasping for air, my throat and back aching, trying to break free from you when you turn me over, leaving me face down. Every time I've fought you or watched you fight flashes through my mind. And I don't recognize you. I press my palms against the canvas, trying to crawl away as you trap my knee from behind, when suddenly... "NNAAAAGGGGGHHHHHH!!!" You drop down onto my back with my leg trapped between your arms. My entire lower body arches, my back bends and buckles beneath your weight, while a brutal wave of pain tears through my body. My battered knee begins to bend and twist beneath your sadism as you fold half of my body in two, and for the first time in the entire match, fear takes hold of me as I can't stop screaming in sheer agony, hearing the crowd around us murmur in surprise and outrage. I claw at the canvas in desperation, trying to drag myself forward as I scream, "HANA!!! THAT'S ENOUGH!!! HANAAAAA!!!" My subconscious betraying me, appealing to a friendship that no longer exists

Hana_Jeong: The scream of my own name acts like a physical blow to my chest, shattering the predatory haze that had consumed me. In that split second, the ring dissolves. It isn't just an opponent beneath me. it’s you. The woman I used to call sister. "You won't slack, Hana. You won't slack, Hana. FUCK!" I roar the internal mantra, my own voice sounding alien to my ears, a desperate attempt to drown out the sound of your agony. The conflict is a war in my veins, a sickening collision of what I am now and what I used to be. I can’t do it. The image of your pain breaks me. With a guttural, primal scream of pure frustration, I rip my hands away from your leg and drop it to the mat as if the limb were on fire. I scramble away, my momentum carrying me into the ropes. I lash out, kicking the bottom cable with every ounce of my at the situation, but mostly, blinding, rage at my own perceived weakness. I spin back to you, my vision blurring. I’m frantic, moving on pure instinct. I roll you over and scramble onto your waist, my movements messy and desperate. I aim several punches and forearm smashes to your head, they are chaotic, fueled by a hysterical desperation. "I FUCKING HATE YOU!" I roar. The words are a lie, a shield to protect my breaking heart. My eyes are streaming, the tears carving clean tracks through the sweat and grime on my face. Every strike is a punch at the circumstances that forced us into this corner, and with every hit, I’m trying to punish myself for the love that just cost me the killer instinct I needed to win. I’m sobbing as I strike, caught in a downward spiral of hatred for the sport, for the championship, and for the fact that I’m forced to go against you.

Sara_León: To my surprise, you finally let go of my leg. I quickly pull it in, trying to cradle it and return it to a more natural position, rubbing my knee between pained groans without seeing what you're doing. Then I feel your presence again. You roll me over onto my back and hurriedly straddle my waist. Your figure looms above me with the cage as a backdrop, your gaze unhinged and filled with tears, your face marked by frustration. I can't understand what's going through your mind, but I don't have much time to think about it. Your fist and forearm begin crashing down onto my face, my jaw, and my skull like a raging storm. I try to raise my hands to stop you, but all your movements are wild and violently unpredictable, and every blow leaves me more and more dazed as you declare your hatred for me. My legs begin kicking weakly behind you, growing fainter with every passing moment as I sink deeper into your assault

Hana_Jeong: The storm inside me breaks as suddenly as it began. My arms freeze in mid-air, trembling violently, and for a fleeting, agonizing second, the roaring of the crowd and the cold bite of the steel cage vanish. In their place, I see a memory: the dusty, brightly lit Stardom training facility. I see a shy, scared Korean girl standing awkwardly against the wall, watching a clueless Spanish girl stumble through her first drills. The contrast hits me like a physical weight. We were younger, so hungry, and so naive. Back then, I couldn’t have imagined in my wildest, darkest dreams that those two girls, those two sisters, would be vowing to break each other inside a steel cage in the middle of New York City. The sheer horror of it all steals my breath. I stand up, my legs feeling like lead, my chest heaving. I look down at you, my face a mask of grief and manic desperation. My hands reach out, not to strike, but to claim you. I grab your ankle with a grip that is part apology and part execution. "I'm sorry, Sara," I whisper, my voice cracking, barely audible over the madness surrounding us. "I have to do it." It is a moment of cold, crystal-clear consciousness in a sea of madness. I don't look at the crowd; I don't look at Lauren. I only look at you, the girl who has been my anchor for so long, even as I prepare to be the one to sever it. With a final, choked breath, I drop to the mat, hooking your leg and cinching the hold tight. I transition into a modified figure-four leg lock, throwing my weight back and driving all my focus into your knee. "JUST TAP OUT!"

Hana_Jeong:

Sara_León: When you stop, a metallic taste fills my mouth. Blood. My lips begin to stain a deep red as my head rests on the canvas and I cough, trying to steady my breathing and regain my senses. My leg is lifted, and then you tell me you're sorry. I look at you and see the conflict inside you, and a brutal ray of hope pierces my soul. You're still in there, and you want to come back. However, the moment you drop down, the spectacular burst of pain that shoots through my knee makes me realize you've trapped me in a figure-four... "YYYYAAAAAAAAYYYYY!!!" My back arches as I begin pounding the canvas desperately with my fists, drops of blood spilling from my mouth as I scream. It feels as though my knee is going to shatter at any moment, but that hope of bringing you back to yourself keeps me sane and gives me the strength to endure as I begin trying to drag myself backward, stretching my arms out between agonized screams of pain, reaching for the ropes

Hana_Jeong: The sight of you dragging your body across the mat, eyes wide with agony and hope, is a poison to my resolve. My hands, which were meant to be the instruments of your destruction, start to tremble. I see the blood on your lips, the way you refuse to quit, and I realize that if I torque that knee one more degree, I won't just be winning a match I’ll be ending your career. I’ll be ending you. I can't do it. The ruthlessness I tried so hard to cultivate shatters, leaving only a hollow, aching guilt in its place. "For your sake, I beg you to stay there!" I groan, my voice cracking, my vision blurring with hot, sudden tears. I can’t look at you anymore. I don't want to see what I’ve done to you. I abruptly release your leg, the hold breaking with a sickening, heavy release. I don't offer you a hand, and I don't look back; I can't bear the weight of what I’ve become in your eyes. Instead, I scramble toward the cage wall. My hands find the cold, rusted links of the steel mesh, and I begin to climb. Every pull is desperate, driven by a frantic need to escape this circle of violence, to reach the top, to touch the summit, and to end this nightmare before I completely destroy the only person who ever truly understood me. I reach for the top of the cage, my fingers clawing at the metal, desperate to seal this win and leave the guilt on the canvas below.

Hana_Jeong:

Hana_Jeong:

Sara_León: My legs are finally free, and I immediately wrap my arms around my knee again in agony, though I'm not sure why you've let go. Your words, your expression, your movements... they all begin giving me clues that the Hana I know is still in there, fighting harder than ever to break free. I hear the metallic rattle of the cage and turn my head, seeing you climbing it. I know what you're about to do. I'm not that dazed—I just feel as though my knee is about to explode into pieces—but I can still process everything happening in the ring clearly. I could wait for you to jump, but I need to make a statement. I need to truly bring you down, take back control, give the crowd hope again... and take yours away. I slowly force myself to my feet as the crowd betrays me with a thunderous ovation, and I make my way toward you. I stumble on my very first step, realizing I can't use my right leg, while I watch you begin reaching the top. Desperation takes hold of me. I get back up, limping awkwardly toward the ropes and climbing them, pressing my fingers into the steel mesh as I follow your path while the crowd goes wild. As soon as I can, with my good leg planted on the top rope, I wrap my arms around your thighs and hips from behind and slightly below you. I clasp my own wrists together, squeezing you tightly against me. I don't want to look down. The world around me fades away, and a chill runs through me as the danger of what I'm about to do truly sinks in. I silently apologize to you in my mind as time seems to stop... Then, at last, I PULL your body backward, trying to catapult you onto your back with a German Suplex...from the very top of the steel cage

Hana_Jeong: I’m inches from the summit, my fingers already hooked over the top edge of the cage, the victory within my grasp. But then, the roar of the crowd shifts, a terrifying, primal sound and I feel the sudden, heavy lock of your arms around my waist. "I'm going to die," the thought flashes through my mind, cold and absolute, before the world flips. There is no time to brace, no time to fight it. You pull with the desperation of someone choosing to go down in flames rather than let me win, and we plummet backward into the void. The sensation of weightlessness lasts only a heartbeat before the canvas rushes up to meet us. BOOM! The impact is tectonic. My upper back slams into the mat with a force that knocks the wind out of me so violently I don't even hear myself scream. My body jolts, whipping into an unnatural angle before I collapse into a heap, face and belly first, my limbs splayed out like a discarded marionette. For a terrifying second, the world goes black. I try to move, to wiggle my fingers or toes, and miraculously, there’s no sharp grind of bone-on-bone or the sickening shift of a dislocation just the all-encompassing, white-hot fire of pure, traumatic shock. Every muscle in my body is screaming in protest. I don’t move. I can’t. I just lay there, the taste of the mat in my mouth, hot tears streaming down my face, sobbing uncontrollably. The air is coming back to me in ragged, rattling gulps as I stare blankly at the underside of the ring, completely shattered by the sheer violence of what just happened.

Sara_León: The entire ring shakes from the impact. And I don't come out of it much better either. My back crashes into the canvas in a brutal landing, and I end up lying completely flat on my back beside you, my mouth hanging open with a thin stream of blood running over my lips. My chest rises and falls heavily, my stomach glistening with sweat, twisting with ragged breaths. The match comes to a halt, the two of us lying side by side as the crowd erupts into thunderous applause, making a faint smile tug at my lips. After a few seconds, I finally manage to move. As soon as I turn my head to the side, I spit blood onto the canvas, wiping my lips with the back of my hand before seeing you lying completely motionless beside me. I crawl over to you and grab you by the shoulder, managing to roll you onto your back. I collapse on top of you as I weakly lift one of your legs, resting my forehead against your chest. The referee slaps the mat. "ONE!!!...."

Hana_Jeong: The referee’s hand hits the mat, the sound muffled by the ringing in my ears. ONE!!! I am trapped beneath you, the breath completely knocked out of my lungs, my entire frame vibrating with the aftershocks of the fall. The weight of your body presses the remaining oxygen out of me, and the world is fading to gray. I can barely feel my own limbs, but deep in the wreckage of my adrenaline-fueled survival instinct, a final, desperate command overrides the exhaustion. TWO!!! The referee’s hand rises again, hovering for that eternal second. As his palm begins its downward descent, I find a reserve of strength I didn't know I possessed. "AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!" I let out a raw, drowning scream a sound of sheer, unadulterated defiance and violently kick my leg out, arching my back with a spasmodic, full-body thrash that throws you off my chest. I don't know how I’m still conscious, but as you tumble to the side, I remain sprawled on the canvas, gasping for air like a fish on dry land, my chest heaving and my eyes wild and unfocused, refusing to let the light go out just yet.

Sara_León: I roll away from you the moment you kick out, releasing your leg and ending up on all fours beside you, gasping for breath. Then I move closer, my face hovering over yours, and cup your cheeks with both hands, squeezing them gently as I speak in a voice only you can hear. "I know you're still in there, Hana. I know." The second time I say it, my voice trembles, as if I wanted to tell you so much more, or make you a promise I'm not even sure I can keep. I let go of your face, pushing it to one side in frustration, not knowing how to bring you back, but hoping my words will mean something. I grab you by the hair and begin pulling you up, pressing your forehead against my chest until you're fully on your feet. Then I slide one hand between your legs while gripping your shoulders with the other, rocking slightly as I lift you off the canvas and turn you over. My injured leg buckles and I almost lose my balance, but I manage to keep the momentum going and try to slam you onto your back once again with a bodyslam

Hana_Jeong: Your words vibrate against my skin, but they are just echoes in a storm. I want to believe you, I want to reach for that version of us that existed before the bitterness took root, but the physical reality of the match, the bruising, the exhaustion, the utter depletion of my spirit, won't let me. I can’t process the sentiment when every nerve ending is screaming in protest. "Ahhh... Ahhh..." I moan, a pathetic, fragmented sound, my voice thin and broken. You haul me up by my hair, and it feels as though you are trying to tear my scalp from my skull. My knees are liquid; they offer no support, serving only as anchors dragging through the dirt as you force me upright. I am a puppet in your hands, completely devoid of agency, watching through half-lidded eyes as you maneuver to put me away. You lift me, and for a split second, I am weightless, suspended in the air. BAM! The impact of the bodyslam is seismic. My back connects with the canvas with a bone-jarring thud, and I sprawl out, my arms and legs splayed wide against the mat. I lie there, flat and motionless, staring up at the harsh, artificial lights of the arena. My vision is fading at the edges, a dark curtain closing in. I don't move. I don't fight. I just lie there, shattered.

Sara_León: As I throw you, my leg finally gives out and the momentum sends me stumbling backward, falling against the middle rope, half-sitting and wrapping my arms around the ropes, feeling my knee burn, every movement and every ounce of weight torturing it. I grit my teeth, trying to calm the pain, feeling the heat of the arena, the chants of the crowd, and watching my best friend's body lying on the canvas in front of me. I'm surprised by how clear-headed I'm managing to stay. I look at you, and a thousand thoughts race through my mind. I want to go and hug you, tell you I forgive you, and beg you to come back to my side. I want to go and crush my boot against your face, as if that could make Lauren leave your head. I want to go and grab you by the hair, let the tears run down my face, and make you see all the damage you've done to me. I glance at the NEW championship belt, displayed beside the commentators' table, and remind myself that the title is on the line. Determined to put an end to this and seeing you in a very vulnerable position, I throw myself on top of you, forcing you to roll over, and kneel on your back, pinning you against the canvas. I wrap both my arms over yours, forcing them up behind your back and compressing your shoulder blades, just before jumping and flipping over you, ending up arched in a bridge with the tips of my boots planted on the canvas, my back bent backward, the back of my head resting on yours, and my arms hooked around yours at the level of your back, torturing your shoulders, arms, and back in a Cattle Mutilation!

Hana_Jeong: 

Hana_Jeong: I try to scramble away, dragging my body across the canvas toward the safety of the steel mesh, my fingers scraping against the mat in a futile attempt to gain distance. I raise a trembling arm, reaching out toward you, a desperate, silent plea for you to stop, but you are a force of nature driven by that championship goal. You move with terrifying precision, dropping onto my back. Before I can even react, you hook my arms, yanking them backward with such violent force that my joints feel like they are being ripped from their sockets. My shoulders are forced into an agonizing, unnatural arc, pinned tight against my own back as you complete the transition into the Cattle Mutilation. The pressure is blinding. My chest is pressed into the canvas, and my shoulders are screaming under the impossible torque of the hold. I can't breathe, and I can't move I am completely at your mercy. "PLEASE, SARA... AAAAAHHHHH... I BEG YOU!" The words tear out of me in a ragged, high-pitched shriek of pure torment. Tears stream down my face, hot and stinging, mixing with the sweat on the mat as I sob uncontrollably. The pain in my shoulders is secondary only to the realization that you have me fully broken. I am weeping, helpless, trapped under your weight, begging you to remember who I am before you snap something that can never be fixed. But as the hold tightens, the world begins to narrow into a single, agonizing point of fire. The screaming slowly dies down, replaced by a dull, throbbing roar in my ears. The light from the arena lamps turns into a blurry, pulsing haze, and my grip on the canvas loosens. The agony is so absolute, so overwhelming, that my brain finally decides it has had enough; my head lolls forward, my sobbing fades into ragged, shallow hitches, and I slowly drift away into the darkness, my consciousness slipping from my grasp under the weight of the pain.

Sara_León: "SUBMIT!!!" is the first thing I shout as I lock in the hold, shaking my torso to tighten my grip while I torture your shoulders and back. My bad knee begins to complain, and I can feel that I won't be able to hold this position for much longer, while the rest of my exhausted body struggles to stay stable in such a risky posture. But it's your screams that truly hit me. Believing I was immune to your pleading voice, that cry takes me back to that nauseating venue in Tokyo where I destroyed you for the last time. Seeing you powerless, miserable because of me, and broken by me was the beginning of a long, arduous journey. But that wound has never fully healed. You're still that same Hana I swore I would never hurt again. And even though this is different, my heart simply can't bear it. My legs tremble as I try to ignore your plea, and I feel you beginning to fade, not submitting but slowly giving in. And then my body gives out too, and I let you go, falling onto my back beside you and letting out a heart-wrenching scream of pure inner conflict that echoes throughout the arena as I pound my fists against the canvas. I hate with all my soul that it has come to this. My desire to destroy Lauren overpowers everything else for a few moments of blinding rage, but I manage to focus. I look at the cage and then I look at you. "Not this time, Hana..." I whisper to you before heading toward the cage and beginning to climb it, knowing that escaping it would give me the victory without having to hurt you any more. After all, I doubt you can stop me now...

Hana_Jeong: My vision slowly begins to unfocus from the blackness, and the roar of the crowd bleeds back into my ears like a rising tide. My shoulders feel like they’ve been pulled from their sockets, a dull, throbbing fire radiating down my spine. With a low, ragged moan, I push myself up, my knees trembling violently as I drag my body toward the steel mesh, using it to hoist myself up into a hunched, broken curl. I cradle my arms against my chest, my breath coming in jagged, desperate hitches. I watch you climbing the cage, your back to me, the victory almost within your reach. A surge of bitter, distorted adrenaline surges through me, stronger than the pain. "I'm not done, you fucking bitch!" I shriek, my voice cracking under the strain. I look up at your silhouette against the steel, my eyes burning with tears and a cold, sharp resentment. I need you to feel the weight of this, even if it kills me. "Is this your big moment, Sara?" I choke out, my voice dripping with venomous mockery. "The way you are going to win represents your whole life. You always acted like a coward pretending to be a lioness." I continue: "Go! Escape! Because deep down, you know the only reason you're standing there and I'm down here is because you finally realized that in a fair fight, you’re nothing but a hollow shell of the person I used to call my best friend. You didn't win ...you just ran out of soul to finish what you started in Tokyo, and you're too pathetic to face me when I'm actually looking at you!"

Sara_León: I stop with my fingers white from gripping the steel mesh of the cage, my body trembling slightly. I don't turn to look at you; I just rest my cheek against the mesh, panting and listening to you. I feel terribly exhausted. Not just because of the match, but because it feels like every step I take toward reconciliation, you manage to undo it, you manage to push me away from you all over again. All I hear in your words is pure venom, and I don't even know why you're doing it anymore. I don't know what to think. The crowd hasn't heard everything you said, but your body language and gestures are enough. They want me to climb back down, face you, and defeat you. My body resists leaving the cage wall, staying there for a few seconds, but in the end I make my decision. A Crossface chickenwing will be enough, and then I can leave and try to forget that any of this happened, leaving with the title but without my friend—a bitter outcome. I let myself drop down onto the canvas beside you, but my knee betrays me and I let out a groan of pain, dropping to one knee in front of you

Hana_Jeong: As you drop from the cage, the sickening pop of your knee buckling echoes in the sudden tension of the ring. You land heavily, grimacing as you sink onto one knee just a few feet away from me. You’re vulnerable, distracted by the agony in your joint the exact opening I’ve been waiting for. I don’t hesitate. I don’t think about the history between us or the venom I just spat at you. I launch myself forward from my crouched position, throwing every ounce of my remaining strength into my right arm, aiming to deliver a slap across your face

Sara_León: -SMACK!!- The palm of your hand crashes against my cheek. My head jerks to the side, spitting saliva and blood toward the cage as my hair whips to one side and I remain motionless, processing. Or rather, no longer processing. My mind goes completely blank, as if you've switched something off inside me. I don't know if it's the exhaustion, the anger, the confusion, the frustration, or the pain. I blink, trying to refocus my vision as I grab onto a rope and slowly pull myself to my feet, bringing my hand first to my cheek and then wiping the back of it across my lips, and finally I look at you. You don't see confusion or doubt in my eyes. You don't even see hatred. Only determination. I limp toward you and suddenly grab you by the throat without saying a single word, grabbing your trunks and lifting you off the mat with a feral roar, trying to drive you back down and crush your back against the mat with a chokeslam

Hana_Jeong: The sting of the slap barely has time to fade before I’m lifted clean off the canvas. Your hand wraps around my throat with terrifying, singular intent, cutting off my air and my ability to scream. My feet dangle uselessly in the air, my own hands frantically clawing at your wrist, trying to pry those fingers loose, but your grip is iron. "Arrgghhh!" The world turns into a blur of motion as you launch into the chokeslam. I feel the absolute weight of your rage as you pivot, slamming me down toward the canvas with catastrophic force. BAAAM! My spine detonates against the mat. The impact of the chokeslam was absolute. My body, already pushed past the breaking point, fails to protect me as the back of my head and spine rebound off the canvas. I lay there in a heap, completely shattered, my chest rising and falling in shallow, jagged spasms. A string of drool escapes my lips, pooling on the mat as I lose all motor control. My limbs are trapped in a cycle of involuntary, rhythmic twitching, my fingers clawing uselessly at the canvas like a dying creature. My eyes are rolled back into my head, flickering and unfocused.

Sara_León: You've done it. You've managed to push me over the edge, just like Naya, Mina, and Misaki did. And now I simply can't control myself anymore. That monster I always try to hide comes back into the light. The lioness in the cage with her prey. I walk toward you, grabbing you by the hair with the sole intention of destroying you, but with the cold expression of a calculating feline. I yank you up, grabbing your trunks as well until you're back on your feet, then drag you across the canvas at my will before breaking into a run toward the ropes, using my grip on your head and waist to try to throw you through them, hoping you'll crash into the cage mesh

Hana_Jeong: The force of your momentum sends me sailing through the ropes like a discarded ragdoll. My body strikes the cold, unforgiving steel mesh with a sickening thud, the vibration rattling my very bones. The impact is agonizing; my back and shoulders, already a patchwork of deep, angry purple bruises, flare with fresh, white-hot fire as I’m pinned against the links. I slide down the mesh, my knees buckling until I’m caught between the bottom rope and the fence. My head lolls forward, my body shuddering with involuntary tremors. I can barely hold myself upright, my strength completely sapped. I look up, my vision swimming through a haze of tears and exhaustion. My dark, tear-filled eyes lock onto your intense, green gaze ... the look of a predator who has finally cornered its prey. I don't have the breath to scream anymore, so I let out a fractured, wet sob, my voice reduced to a broken, pathetic whisper that barely cuts through the noise of the arena. "No more, Sara..." I wheeze, the words hitching in my throat as more tears spill over, tracing paths through the sweat and grime on my face. I reach out a trembling, limp hand, barely touching your arm in a final, desperate gesture. "Please... I’m begging you." I'm begging to be put out of my misery.

Sara_León: I limp toward you, crossing the ring with a pained grimace at every step I take, but my gaze remains unwavering. I slip through the ropes, squeezing into that narrow space between them and the cage wall, just as you turn to look at me with those shattered eyes and plead with me once again. But I can't do this anymore. I've tried to save you too many times. I grab you by the hair, beginning to pull you up until you're kneeling. "Shut the fuck up. You've already said more than enough." I tell you coldly, my hands trembling as they tighten around your scalp, pulling your head away from the cage only to hurl it forward again, SLAMMING your face into the steel mesh and pressing it against it for a few seconds before yanking you back once more and repeating the punishment... Again and again, brutalizing your features, smashing your skull, and shaking your entire body at will in a spiral of violence that seems insatiable to me, making the whole cage shudder with every impact as I batter you as though I could make you spit out all the poison in your head, screaming in frustration the whole time

Hana_Jeong: The world turns into a strobe light of agony. Every time you yank my hair back, the air hits my face before the next impact erases my senses. CLANG! My forehead connects with the cold, unforgiving steel. The skin splits instantly, a warm, metallic river of blood flowing down from my hairline, stinging my eyes and blinding me. My nose is already shattered, clicking against the mesh, adding more crimson to the mask covering my face. I am not fighting back; I have no movement left in me. I am a broken doll, my limbs twitching in rhythm with your rage, my body limp as you throw me against the fence, pull me back, and throw me again. CLANG! My head snaps back, and I let out a choked, wet gurgle, the sound lost in the thunder of the cage walls vibrating under your onslaught. I am drooling blood and spit, my jaw hanging loose and swollen. I can feel my spirit fraying, snapping like the very cables holding the arena together. You are screaming, a sound of pure, unadulterated release, and I am the canvas you’ve chosen to paint your frustration upon. CLANG! I slump forward, my face sliding down the jagged links, leaving a sickening trail of gore behind. I am completely trashed, a discarded thing. My eyes are swollen shut, puffing up rapidly, and my breathing is nothing more than a rhythmic, bubbling rattle in my chest. I have no defenses left, no words left, no strength left. I am fully, utterly yours to breakyt

Hana_Jeong:

Hana_Jeong:

Hana_Jeong:

Sara_León: Finally I let go of you, letting you collapse, exhausted and broken at my feet. The crowd cheers and chants my name. My heart pounds in my chest like a hammer, sweat gathers on my skin like a thick layer, and I have to brace myself against the ropes so I don't lose my balance. I see you now completely defeated, incapable of attacking me again or even of hurting me verbally anymore, and I drop to one knee beside you, wrapping my arms around your shoulders and pulling you against my chest with all my strength. I don't know what will happen outside this cage, but the only thing I have left of you is your body, so I can't help giving you one last hug, to the Hana that I no longer know if she still exists. I feel as if I were hugging a corpse, the corpse of someone you used to be or the corpse of our friendship. I barely hold you for two seconds that feel eternal, before bringing my blood-soaked lips closer and kissing your forehead with tears threatening to escape. It happens so quickly that the crowd barely notices. Right afterward I stand up and slip between the ropes, crouching down and grabbing one of your wrists, beginning to pull you and drag you under the bottom rope with rough tugs until I leave you in the center of the ring, where I begin to sit down...

Hana_Jeong: The sudden warmth of your embrace acts as a beautiful anchor amidst the wreckage of my soul. For a heartbeat, the steel cage, the blood, and the agonizing pain fade away. I am back in that tiny flat in Tokyo, wrapped in the comfort of your arms when the world felt too heavy to bear, when the insecurity was taking over me and you were there to reassure me. It is a phantom memory, a cruel, soft ghost haunting a dying body. As your lips press against my ruined, blood-soaked forehead, the gesture is so tender, so impossibly at odds with the violence we just shared, that my heart stutters. My fingers, slick with my own crimson lifeblood, twitch against your skin. I manage a weak, trembling squeeze around your forearm my final, pathetic attempt to hold onto you one last time. I don’t open my eyes. I can’t. The lids are too swollen, and the light is too cruel. I let out a jagged, broken sob, my chest rattling with the effort of every breath. "If... there’s still some of your love for me in your heart..." I wheeze, "please... put me out of my misery... finish me... and shine for everyone." The admission hangs in the air, heavier than the cage itself. I am done. The fight, the spite, the poison...it’s all gone, drained out of me onto the canvas. I realize now what I already knew that turning my back on you was the single greatest error of my life, and as you drag me into the center of the ring, I simply lie there, a broken offering at your mercy.

Hana_Jeong:

Sara_León: I barely hear your confession, dizzy from the exertion and overwhelmed by the crowd's chants. I don't want to think about it either; I just want everything to be over. I grab you by the shoulders and sit you up in the center of the ring, planting my good knee on the canvas while, with quick and precise movements, I begin to slide my left arm over yours, trapping it behind your back as the crowd goes wild. My other arm crosses your throat while I pin your left arm between my chest and your back and raise my hand to shoulder height, where I try to clasp my right hand and lock you into a submission you know all too well. I let myself drop into a seated position, giving your whole body a sharp pull backward, leaving you lying across me as I wrap my legs around your waist, trapping the rest of your body, while at the same time trying to cinch in the crossface chickenwing with one abrupt and brutal yank

Hana_Jeong: The realization that this is the end the final shatters the last remnants of my resistance. As you manipulate my battered body, tossing my limbs aside to lock me into the hold that defined our history, I inhale one last, ragged breath. It’s a desperate attempt to fortify myself, to steel my nerves for the inevitable, but it’s a futile gesture. The moment you drop back, the familiar, suffocating tension of the Crossface Chickenwing coils around me. My neck is wrenched at a sickening angle, and the pressure against my shoulder blade is absolute, a vice tightening around a frame that has nothing left to give. I groan, a long, drawn-out sound of pure, unadulterated agony that dies in the back of my throat. The pain is a blinding white flash, an electric shock that bypasses my brain and strikes straight at my nervous system. I don't even have time to tap out. One second... two... The arena lights begin to swirl, losing their definition, becoming a tunnel of harsh, golden haze. Three seconds... four... My body goes limp, the internal fight vanishing as my consciousness is forcibly extinguished. The darkness claims me completely. My head lolls backward against your chest, my jaw goes slack, and a trail of bloodied drool spills from my mouth, staining the canvas. I am a hollow vessel, finally silent, finally surrendered, drifting into the merciful void where the pain can no longer follow.

Sara_León: I tighten my arms with force, punishing your shoulder and your neck with the precision that I have been perfecting over the last few years through my most-used finisher. I hear you groaning agonizingly in my hold, but only a few seconds pass before I realize that you are no longer putting up any resistance. Knowing that you are fading, I violently yank against your throat, shaking our intertwined bodies so that the referee notices that your free arm is limp. Thank God, it doesn't take long for them to come over to you and lift one of your arms, letting it fall, while the crowd shouts, "ONE!!" I refuse to let go until the victory has been sealed, squeezing you against me, my breathing ragged against the back of your neck and my chest crushing your left arm as it moves, when your arm falls lifeless a second time. I decide to stay in exactly this position, afraid that more pain might wake you up, and I wait for the referee to let go of your arm for the third time... Letting it inevitably fall completely limp onto the canvas. The referee calls for the bell to ring while the crowd erupts into applause and cheers, and I immediately release you, leaving you lying at my feet while I let the referee help me to my feet, with my battered knee slightly bent, resting only on the tip of my foot and waiting to receive the N.E.W. title, which I give a long kiss, staining it with blood, before raising it into the air at the same time as the referee lifts my other hand

Sara_León:

Hana_Jeong: I lie motionless on the canvas, my world nothing but a dull, throbbing haze of pain. The mat feels cool against my cheek, and the distant, thunderous roar of the crowd vibrates through the floorboards, a sound that feels like it’s being played for a different worl where I dodn't exist. I feel the weight of your body shift as you finally release me. There is no gentleness in the way you let me go; I simply slump, a discarded, broken object, left to sprawl in the dust of our wreckage. Above me, the referee doesn't even glance down to check if I’m breathing. His only focus is you, the focus of the entire arena. My senses flicker back, agonizingly slow. I blink, my vision grainy and swimming with spots, and look up through the tangled mess of my own hair. You are standing there in the harsh glow of the arena lights, framed by the chaos, looking like a goddess of war forged in blood and steel. The title belt is clutched in your grip, a smear of my own crimson staining the gold, and as you raise it high, the crowd’s adoration washes over you like a tidal wave. I try to force my limbs to respond, to drag myself toward the ropes, to find any exit that leads away from this spotlight. But my muscles are absolute lead. Every nerve ending is firing off a warning that movement is impossible. I am trapped in the center of the ring, a silent witness to your triumph, fully aware that I am nothing more than the final, broken step you took to reach the top. I just stare at you, my chest heaving in shallow, pathetic gasps, waiting for the strength to crawl away before the shame consumes me entirely.

Sara_León: The applause doesn't stop, but the emotion that filled me the day I won the title is no longer there. I pose with the belt held high as if it were my duty to do so, my chest rising and falling as I look at the crowd, but my heart is demolished. Then, finally, I kneel on the canvas and carefully and reverently lay the belt down on it, before making my way toward you. But I stay at a certain distance. And I don't even say anything to you. I have the inner certainty that you'll insult me, yell at me, or mock me. I'm melting inside wishing you'd come back to me, but I can't be naive forever. I look around ringside and Lauren has disappeared. I know the most sensible thing would be to leave you here alone, walk out of the cage, and let you suffer the consequences of your own actions. Separate myself from you again, live my career apart from you, and finally accept once and for all that what we had is over forever. But my heart is beating too hard and my mind is numb. I can only think of one thing. Still kneeling, I bow before you until my forehead touches the canvas, just as I did the day I publicly asked for your forgiveness in Tokyo. Maybe the New York crowd doesn't fully understand the gesture, but at least my respect for you has to be clear. I gasp against the canvas while my whole body complains because of the uncomfortable position, as I close my eyes asking for your forgiveness with my body and with my heart. A forgiveness for not having been able to save our friendship

Hana_Jeong: The steel cage is pulled away, leaving us isolated in the center of the ring. The silence of the crowd is heavy, heavy with the weight of what they just witnessed. I struggle, my muscles screaming and locking up, but I manage to push myself into a kneeling position, my head hanging low, my hair matted with sweat and blood. I reach out a trembling, blood-stained hand, signaling for a microphone. A staff member slides one under the rope, and I clutch it like a lifeline. "My first words are for you," I choke out, my voice cracking and barely audible over the hum of the arena. I’m sobbing openly now, "I’m sorry... for everything over these past few weeks. I hope, in time, I can earn your support again." I lower the mic, taking a breath that turns into a wet cough, before turning my eyes filled with regret toward you. I see you bowed before me, forehead to the mat, mirroring the ghost of our past. The sight breaks the last of my defenses. "Now... you, Sara," I whisper, my voice thick with tears. I can’t bring myself to look up fully, so I keep my forehead bowed,"I’m sorry. I’m sorry for being a monster to you... for throwing away our sisterhood." I look back to you, slowly getting up. "I want everyone to know..." I pause, wiping a mixture of tears and blood from my eyes with a shaky hand, my gaze searching yours for a hint of the Sara I once knew. "That between the two of us... you have always been the better woman. You have my deepest, most genuine admiration." I take a breath, leaning into you, my words are genuine. "But above all of that... I don't care about the titles or the match. I only care that... deep down... I still hope that you will always be my best friend.".

Hana_Jeong:

Hana_Jeong:

Hana_Jeong:

Sara_León: For a few seconds, all I hear is my labored breathing and the metallic sound of the cage being lifted. I'm about to get to my feet and leave the ring when I hear your voice, and I visibly shudder, not daring to move. When you apologize to the crowd... it's as if a match is lit inside my cold heart. The hope that you're coming back. You say my name, and the knot that forms in my stomach is so huge that I can barely breathe during the brief moment it takes you to apologize to me. That's when I straighten up, remaining on my knees and looking at you with anxiety, exhaustion, and tears in my eyes... but beginning to feel an almost physical warmth in my heart, an uncontrollable joy. You finish your speech, making my chest swell with pure happiness and relief, making me completely forget the last few months, looking at you and finally seeing the Hana I thought I'd lost. I quickly get to my feet and throw myself at you in a fierce and sudden hug, wrapping my arm around your shoulder and squeezing you tightly against me, crying and whispering, "I knew you were still there... I knew it... I knew it... Thank you... Thank you, Hana..."

Hana_Jeong:

Hana_Jeong: I am battered, bruised, and barely able to stand, but for the first time since this nightmare began, I feel whole. I offer you a small, shy smilethe first one I’ve managed that didn't feel forced or hollow. My hands, still trembling and shaking with adrenaline, reach up to find the microphone I dropped during our reconciliation. I hold it close to my lips, my voice soft but clear enough to carry over the buzzing arena. "Ladies and Gentlemen," I say, my eyes locked on yours, pouring every ounce of my sincerity into the broadcast. "Your champion... and my best friend: SARA LEON!" The arena speakers instantly erupt with the familiar, high-energy swell of your entrance music. The crowd, sensing the shift from hostility to genuine, raw humanity, begins to roar a deafening, euphoric sound that fills the rafters. The fans are on their feet, and even the ones who booed moments ago are now caught up in the emotional gravity of the moment. I reach out, my fingers finding yours, and I give your hand one last, soft, lingering squeeze. I lean in just close enough for you to hear me over the booming music. "Forgive me, Sara," I whisper, the final weight of my guilt finally lifted. I don't wait for the cameras to follow me. I turn, my movements awkward and pained, and slowly roll out of the ring. My body is a roadmap of purple bruises and sharp stabs of pain, and every step is a monumental effort. I wobble toward the entrance ramp, leaning against the barricades for balance. Some of the fans reach out to touch my shoulder or offer a nod of respect, and I acknowledge them with a faint, weary dip of my head. I don't look back at the ring; I know where you belong, and I know that when I finally make it through those curtains, I won't be walking into the dark alone anymore.

Sara_León: I gently pull away from you, and I melt the moment I see that genuine smile again. I let you pick up the microphone while I retrieve the championship belt, just in time for you to introduce me as the champion and your best friend—the sweetest words I've heard since I arrived in Noir. What I feel goes beyond the happiness of a reunion; it's the joy of a dream come true. I'm overwhelmed by the roar of the crowd, the applause, the cheers, all blending together with my entrance music. Then I lower the belt and rest it over my shoulder, letting you take my hands. A visible shiver runs through me when you ask for my forgiveness. I look at you with nothing but tenderness in my eyes and gently squeeze your hands as I answer. "Of course I forgive you. You're forgiven, Hana. Completely forgiven." I bring your hands to my lips and kiss them before letting you go. I know you need your time. I watch you walk away, finally embraced once again by the affection of the crowd—a crowd that had completely turned its back on you over the past few months—and I feel as though my heart is about to burst with happiness. I climb onto the turnbuckle and raise my arm once more, lifting the Noir Championship high above my head, my eyes closed and full of tears, my face completely relaxed, overflowing with nothing but relief and happiness. What most people never knew... was that I would have gladly lost that championship if it meant getting Hana back. And now... I had them both

-END-