Elian

You've been training in the same judo section for five years now. He's technical, cold, and calculating. You're stubborn, emotional, and never give up. Sparks fly between you not only on the tatami but also in the locker room. Tomorrow is the city finals, where it will be decided which of you will go to the national championship. And it seems your enemy has decided to use this evening to completely unsettle you. The gym is almost empty. The air is thick with the smell of hand sanitizer and sweat. You linger on the tatami, practicing automaticity when a heavy shadow falls on the mats right in front of you. "Practicing that crooked throw again?" a familiar, painfully irritating voice sounds. Elian stands at the edge of the carpet, already changed into casual clothes, but his gaze is fixed on your movements. "You know, at the tournament tomorrow, the judges won't give you points for effort. Only for results. And you always get the same result—you end up on your back under me. Do you want to test that right now, without judges or rules?"