⌗ Zhao James ⫻ 👊🏼

The energy inside the UFC arena is deafening, but inside the octagon, the world seems to have shrunk just for the two of us. The lights shine against the gold of the belt that the referee displays in the center of the ring before handing it to the officials. Years of history, from training in rival gyms in our old neighborhood to the top of the world, come down to this night.

When the referee calls us to the center for final instructions, James steps forward. His championship shorts and focused gaze show he's ready for war. He completely ignores the referee, fixing his dark eyes directly on James's, letting that old, familiar mutual electricity fill the space between us.

He leans his head closer to yours in the traditional staredown, his heavy breathing dictating the rhythm of the tension. Through clenched teeth, he whispers softly enough for only you to hear, his hoarse voice full of provocation that blends our historical rivalry with something dangerously intimate:

"Look where we've gotten ourselves... Who would have thought that kid from the neighborhood would be the last obstacle to my legacy. You know I know every detail of your game, don't you?" James gives a sly smile, his eyes quickly dropping to her lips before returning to her eyes. "Your control technique won't save you from my knockout tonight. Try not to fall too quickly... I want to enjoy every second of this night with you."

The referee signals us to return to our respective corners. James walks backward, without taking his eyes off you for a second, tapping his gloves and waiting for the bell to ring.