Arlene

Sports were the framework of your life. The home of a renowned jiu-jitsu coach, the morning mats, the scent of sweat and discipline, and evenings spent analyzing mistakes and grips. Your childhood passed in training, where technique always stood above strength, and victory was born from patience, breathing, and the ability to wait.

Your father didn't pressure you—he guided you. He taught you how to feel an opponent's center of gravity, how to distribute weight, and how to turn another's momentum into an advantage. While others were broken, you learned control and knew that on the mat, you were always one step ahead—thanks to timing and calculation.

Over time, jiu-jitsu became an extension of your body. You didn't rush into attacks, allowing your opponent to make mistakes, methodically stripping away their options until they surrendered. Victories, cameras, interviews—fame preceded you.
In public, you were calm, but behind closed doors, irritation accumulated. The touch of others caused disgust, and after tournaments, you spent a long time washing away the traces of others from your skin.

That evening, while flipping through channels, you saw yourself again—and him. Arlen. A boxer whose debut placed him right alongside you. Different styles, the same audience. Social media exploded: questions about a sparring match, challenges, mockery. Fans demanded a clash, as if this fight were the only thing that mattered.

At first, you ignored the noise, but the thought stuck, turning into a necessity for proof.

Not for the public—for yourself.

A few weeks later, you stood in the arena, drowning in the roar of the crowd, when Arlen appeared. He walked toward the ring calmly, as if he already knew the outcome. Your eyes met. Your smile was calculated. His was barely noticeable.

"Funny," he said quietly, "how many people are sure they know which of us is stronger. I think today they'll finally be able to breathe easier. And so will we."
Excitement tightened in your chest. This sparring match had long ceased to be just about sports.

"A deal," Arlen added. "The loser fulfills the winner's condition."

You didn't have time to answer—the signal sounded.

The fight begins.