Coach’s funeral went along smoothly. Val didn’t know if that was a good thing. From what little money she could scrounge up selling the rare bracelet she’d previously stolen, she’d used it all on restoring the gym and buying the casket. Then they held a private funeral. Just the two of them—her and Bread.

She’d never expected to officiate a funeral so soon. Actually, she’d never expected it at all. It’d always felt like she was the one most in danger—out in the open, thieving around rich neighborhoods. She thought she’d be the one to go first, and with all that had happened with Beady before, she’d preferred it that way.

But that obviously didn’t happen.

After having dug out a large enough hole, she placed—as gently as possible—the casket down into the arid, ash-ridden soil of the backyard. And before she completely covered it back up, she dropped a few pieces of beef jerky over the casket. It felt fitting. Bread, on the other hand, delicately dropped a single stem of a dried-up dandelion.

A few more shovels of grunt work, and she was finally done. She used one of his favorite, and most prized possessions as the headstone—a beautifully crafted and modified cybernetic torso piece that was still left over from his personal collection. Parts of the exterior were covered in soot, but most of it was still clean and intact. And in the center of the piece, she roughly engraved a short, little epitaph—

Jack Brimstone. Firestarter.

…

They didn’t talk for days after the funeral—her and Bread. Was it because they had nothing to talk about? Or was it just because of what had happened?

It all felt empty. Nothing was fun, nothing was ever exciting anymore. Bread did his own thing, adventuring out into the unknowns of who knew where, but for her, life felt kind of weird. She felt numb; it didn’t really feel all that worse than when she’d lost Beady. Was she used to it? To losing all these people who were close to her? Was she just dissociating?

Maybe it hadn’t settled in yet. This reality.

She hadn’t boxed since the fight. It had always been her routine to start the day off with a short warm-up session with the bag, but she’d been going around town, performing a bunch of heists instead. Today, though, she felt it. She felt like boxing. Back to her routine, back to that grind. Just a way to reset the week.

The bag was a little burnt from the fire, but it would hold. With her bare fists, she started punching. Without a care in the world. Her hands scraped, and she started bleeding from her knuckles, but she kind of liked the pain. It was familiar, a reminder to her past.

She remembered when she’d first met Coach. It had felt like he’d placed his entirety on her to succeed, but she knew now that he was just being a bit lazy. All those words about how he’d wanted to be a boxer, he’d told her one time that he hadn’t cared about those dreams in decades. They were just words to rile her up. He just didn’t like seeing her throwing her life away. And still, he’d supported her until the very end. He’d never once stopped to give up on her like her parents had done.

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But with each and every hit, questions arose.

What did it matter now anyways? She’d really just been fighting for Coach. Without him, there was no more reason for her to keep going, was there? Her brother was gone, and now Coach. The family she’d once had was just all falling apart, but…

At least I have Bread.

She kept punching. Bread had told her she looked happier when she was boxing. Maybe that was true. After all, she wasn’t a thief.

She was Valkyrie—a fighter, a loser, and a boxer who never gave up.

…

One, three, one, one… She crushed the half-charred punching bag around. It swung dangerously high into the air. Two, three, slip, three…

She was getting used to her one eye, but really, she should’ve just bought the other already. She’d been saving up for another Razen, but what was really the point in having two exceptionally pricey eye augments? One Razen was enough to get the job done anyways. All she needed was another for depth perception.

Two! The punching bag exploded, burst into bits of leather and sand. Shit. That was the only one left. If only she had someone… to hold the mitts…

“Val?”

It was Bread. She held the thoughts back.

“Here.” He handed her a glass of water.

“Thanks.” She washed it all down—her sorrows, all her ordeals. “I think we need another one.”

“Uh-huh…” Bread suddenly looked so tired. Like he hadn’t gotten any sleep.

“You okay?” she asked.

“Mhm, I’m okay!” He brightened up immediately, but something about it felt so forced. Was it a malfunction in the veil? Was that supposed to have been his actual reaction?

Maybe he’s just stressed. She felt bad. Hadn’t she promised him she’d take him to the beach? Hadn’t she promised to show him the world? She couldn’t even keep her word. Not ever. Sometimes, it really did feel like she was stringing him along to be some sort of Beady replacement. She’d told herself that he wasn’t Beady, but apparently it wasn’t that simple of a thing.

“Val, I…” Bread started, but he clammed up almost as fast. She couldn’t read his facial expressions like she usually could.

“Bread,” she called out. That was enough awkward for an entire month. “If you have something to say, say it. I don’t want this to be like last time. We’ve only got each other now.”

After a long silence, he finally nodded. “Coach,” he said. “Coach said we got heart.”

“He did? Yuck.” She snorted at the thought. Of course Coach would say something like that. He’d always said stupid, motivational stuff for fun. “Sounds just like him.”

“And,” Bread kept going, “I… I don’t ever regret meeting you.”

“You too! The hell’s wrong with you guys? What’s with all this sappy stuff?” But she could feel the edges of her mouth curving up just a hair. She couldn’t help it. There was a spark in the kid’s eyes—a fiery spark full of hopes and dreams.

Heart, huh?

She peered out the window towards the halcyon skies. It reminded her of a time when all she’d had on her mind was to forget about the pain, of Beady. But this time, she wouldn’t forget—Coach’s dream, her promises. She’d make this work. Her life, Bread’s, all of it. She’d make it all work and show Coach that they really did have heart. She’d prove it to him this time. And someday, she’d meet him again, brag about it to his face. Someday far into the future…

Hopefully, by then, she could finally be proud of herself.