I step out of the ring, wiping the sweat off my brow with the back of my glove, still trying to shake off the urge that’s been gnawing at me. The crowd is thinning out, and I feel the weight of their eyes on me. They’ll never know how hard it is, how much it takes to keep it together every single time I step in here.

Coach Adam is waiting at the edge of the ring, his arms crossed, watching me carefully. He’s been around long enough to know when I’ve got something eating at me. I climb out of the ropes, and he starts walking toward me, his heavy boots thudding against the floor. I try to avoid his eyes, but he doesn’t let me.

“You see that boy, Kyon?” Coach says, his voice low but steady. “You fit knock am down with one hand. Only one. Two hands was too much. You go too hard for that kind boy. Na mistake. You suppose to be showing am control, not just power. You dey hold back, I know, but next time, no overdo am. Just use one hand, make the boy learn small.”

I swallow hard, feeling the sting of his words. He’s right, but I still feel frustrated. The kid had no respect for the fight. I could’ve ended it faster, I could’ve humbled him. But I held back, and that’s not like me.

“I know, Coach,” I mutter, looking down. “I should’ve finished it quicker.”

Coach leans in, his hand on his chin, studying me. “No need to rush things, Kyon. Na boxing, not street fight. You fit knock am down with one jab, make sure say him learn. That’s the difference between us and them. You be professional. You no be amateur. You get what I mean?”

I nod. I know he’s right. I’ve always prided myself on my strength. I’ve sparred with people far heavier than that kid. In Wuye, they all know me—'The Ghost'—because I don’t stay down, no matter how hard they hit me. I've fought guys who thought they could knock me out just because of their size, and each time, I walked away with a win.

Unbeaten.

But that kid? He was disrespecting me, thinking he could outbox me. I saw the way he looked at me. If I’d let my temper get the best of me, I would’ve taught him a lesson. But I held it back, and Coach says that’s a good thing. But still, I wanted to bring him down, lay him flat on his back.

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Coach slaps me on the back, hard enough to knock my breath out. “No stress, Kyon. The boy don go chemist, he go dey fine. Boxing na contact sport, accidents happen. But you? You need to focus on the bigger picture now. Regional competition dey come. Forget that boy. Keep your head straight.”

I nod, taking a deep breath, trying to focus on what’s ahead. “Yeah, Coach. I hear you.”

Coach studies me a moment longer, and then he smiles. “You fit do better. Na only the best go make am out of Zaria. You get what I mean?”

“I get it.” It’s not just about boxing. It’s about everything. My future. My life. I don’t have time for distractions.

The walk home is quiet, the dry season heat weighing heavily on my back. The dusty streets of Wuye stretch out before me, and I keep my eyes on the ground, lost in thought. The noise of the market fades into the background as I make my way through the streets.

When I get to the roadside, Auntie is sitting outside the small makeshift stall, surrounded by 'minerals' and "ice blocks". The hum of the old generator is familiar, just like the smell of fried fish and roasted corn in the air. I notice the sweat on Auntie’s brow as she adjusts the ice block cooler. Power is always a struggle, especially during the dry season when people need ice for their drinks.

“Auntie,” I say, dropping my bag by the door.

She looks up and smiles, her tired face lighting up when she sees me. “Kyon, how the match go?”

I try to mask the frustration I’m feeling, but it’s there, always just under the surface. “It was okay, Auntie. Coach says I dey ready for regional competition.”

She stands up, wiping her hands on her apron. “I know say you go make us proud. You fit go national, I believe am.”

I force a smile, but it doesn’t feel real. Not yet. There’s too much pressure, too much to think about.

Auntie hands me a cold bottle of mineral and gestures for me to sit. The cool drink feels good, but not enough to wipe away the heat in my chest. “Don’t worry, Kyon. You go make it. School fees, regional competition—no worry, we go find a way. I dey for you.”

But I feel the weight of it all, the expectation. I don’t want Auntie to struggle for me. I know she’s doing her best, but there’s only so much she can give.

“I no want make you suffer for me, Auntie,” I say quietly.

Her hand lands on my shoulder, firm but comforting. “You no be burden, Kyon. You go shine. Just focus on what dey in front of you.”

I nod, even though I’m not sure how. But I’ll figure it out, I have to.