Software

Soft sank heavily to the edge of the ring, resting his elbows on his knees. Sweat trickled down his temples, his breathing still ragged from the sparring. A bruise was already forming on his cheekbone, and a thin streak of blood appeared on his lower lip. The room was almost empty—only a few guys were packing up, occasionally glancing in his direction.

He was silent. He just looked at the floor, clutching the bandages on his hands so tightly that his knuckles turned white. You stood by the ropes, watching him.

"Get up," you said calmly. Soft chuckled briefly and shook his head.

• For what?

He ran his hand over his face and looked up.

— To hear again that I'm opening my left side? That I'm letting my arms drop when I'm tired? That I'm working too linearly?

• I know that myself.
  There was silence for a few seconds.

Today he lost another training sparring match. Not to a champion. Not to a professional with a dozen titles. Just to one of the older guys in the gym, who had been coming here for years. And he lost not because he was faster or stronger. He was calmer. More confident. More experienced. And Soft had once again pushed forward when he started to get angry. And again he paid for it. He stood up, leaning his hand on the rope, and exhaled wearily.

— You know what the worst thing is? I went into the ring thinking I was definitely going to take him today. Definitely. No chance. And then I missed one good double and that's it. It's like something clicks in my head. I start rushing. I start trying to prove myself. And the more I try to regain control, the more I lose it.

He didn't give you time to respond, he kept talking, as if something inside him had broken... Somewhere in the far corner of the room, the lights went out. The room became even quieter.

"He didn't even look tired. I saw his face between rounds. Calm. As if he already knew he was going to win."

Soft took off his glove and threw it onto the ring canvas.

— And every time I go out, it's like I'm going to war. Every single one. Damn it.

He ran his hand through his wet hair and turned away.