“Remember, your opponent is a boxer,” the short haired lady said to the back of the fighter.

“As we've said,” responded the young combatant while relaxing his shoulders and clenching his fists.

“Well, if he's an amateur he shouldn't give you too much trouble. How you holding up? Nervous?” She said as she gently placed a hand on the back of his head.

“Somewhat” his shoulders had now gone completely still, but not stiff. He was ready.

“Remember what I told you!”

“On it”

“Eyes on the prize!” As she yelled, she slapped his back, hard. And he stepped up and started in the direction of his opponent.

Ding! Thus rang the bell that marked the beginning of the first round. Sam breaths calmly, perhaps in anticipation of the upcoming fight, or perhaps in complete confidence of my great advice, the energetic young lady thought. Where would he be without me?

The kid's a momma’s boy, who was a fighter o’ somethin’ all the other way from the Great Pond, she thinks of Sam's opponent as she gets a better look at him. Why you almost could mistake him for a girl! And perhaps you could, accounting for their face, were it not the case that the topless fighter had no breasts.

The opponent waits in his corner as the fighter named Sam inches closer while maintaining a low profile. Before long, he steps out of their corner without even a little concern on his face. This rattles the young lady some, but that passes.

By the book, as the people of this country say, she says inwards when she notices the opponent's stance. Blondie over here's gonna be using a technical style against my boy, Sam. Dominant arm up and close to the body, while the other hangs low in front. The hitman stance. If she only plans on usin’ fists against my boy, she ain't even got a chance.

The two fighters stand in the middle of the ring, staring each other down. It should be about now, she thinks. And so, as if commanded, the blond opponent starts firing jabs which crack like a whip. The fighter named Sam puts his guard up in time, peek-a-boo style, and the whip is blocked, although its sting is felt regardless.

Everything’s as I predicted, she thinks as the fighter named Sam advances through the barrage of whip-like jabs, while the opponent stands their ground, raining the fearsome whiplashes. Then, as he closes in on his preferred range, he starts lowering his center of gravity. As we've said, the beginning of the fight was thus going according to plan.

The fighter named Sam continued to get closer and lower, lower than Blondie's ever seen… probably. And now she was measuring the timing between those jabs. One, two… three, four. She can see it, but could he?

“Ah!” She yelled as the fighter shot past the whip of his opponent's left. “There he goes, under the jabs and straight for the legs! Take him out!” Once they’re both down on the ground we should ‘ve the advantage, “or that's how I thought it would go,” she would later recount. Even if Sam can't grapple he would have the advantage.

And then it came down… like lighting.

“S-Sam?” She wound up saying before realising what was happening. “Sam!” The fighter named Sam… No, her fighter was laying on the mat immobile.

“Keep away from the ring” said the clownish dressed man that the people of this city had designated referee.

How could he be so insensitive? She thought as she squeezed the ropes of the ring in her hands. My fighter… no, my brother has been struck by something dreadful, and I'm supposed to stay back?! After being warned a second time, she was cut off her trance and backed off breathing deeply. I wasn't planning on getting inside the ring anyway…

“One!” Started counting the clownish dressed man.

This is his fight. I believe in him.

“...Two!”

Sam is on his way, this is a mere setback.

“...Three!”

S-so they count for the knockouts… T-that's a bit like boxing.

“... Four!”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

Ok, I'll admit, perhaps we were being presumptuous. Maybe this boxer chick or guy is good.

“...Five!”

But this fight doesn't end here…

“...Six!”

…Doesn't it?

“...Seven-”

“I can still-!” The lady's brother, Sam started while grabbing onto the referee to get back up, “I can still fight!” Continued with a fire lit in his eyes.

There he is! She sighed a sigh of relief. I have to speak with him, I have to guide him! “There's two minutes left in this round! Play it safe and we'll regroup for the second round!” Maybe yelling that out could have been a mistake, she thought. For the moment the blond opponent heard her, he immediately went on the offensive.

The moment “fight” was pronounced by the referee, the whip started flying once more. And the blond opponent was not staying his ground, but pushing Sam back aggressively.

So you want to push now, huh? The lady thought, not without some nervousness. Alright then… push. Sam has a pretty solid defence. She noticed then that the blond fighter she was less and less convinced was a girl by the second, was fighting without their guard up. Which wasn't so different from when they were standing their ground and dealing out the whiplashes, but to have an open guard while pushing could leave you open to a counter-offensive, right?

Counter… right. She thought as she realised. What got Sam back there was probably that, a counter, but was she realizing too late? And if he's so good at it that we didn't even see him prepping for it, maybe it means their punches lack weight to them… The whip could have fooled her. Let's… see what happens.

Sam cocks up a heavy right. A declaration of intent, that the fight will not be decided by guile and technique, but by courage and strength of will. He can fight on this rhythm, a straight up slug fight, she thought. It's not my area of expertise, but he has dabbled in that. The right is blocked by the boxer, but the weight pushes them back and out of their footwork. Nice, nice, nice! She was bumping her fists, the fight might not go as they had expected, but it will go as they want. Surely.

Then, as Sam continued pushing the out of balance boxer, the lady predicted her brother's next move. You see, Sam didn't like martial arts much. He practiced, as he was required to, but he took no pride in his prowess. This one move though, he could execute with the best of them. The lady had come to call it the fabled one-two, for it was just like a one-two should be. And as Sam practiced the move back in the old dojo and onlookers passed to see, the fighter might not have meant to, but catching a glimpse of their dazzled faces led him to puff out his chest. And it was this exact move she saw coming next. Yes, she thought. Finish the fight now.

And why wouldn't she think that? The boxer was off balance, and she had known her brother to have felled many a fighter with that same move. Why would she expect anything else but certain victory? This was perhaps a thought that had formed in the young lady's head, the moment she caught a glimpse of a glint in the eye of the boxer, as they fell to the ground blocking the first right that composed the one-two combination. She wouldn't have dared to imagine what actually happened when lighting… struck twice.

As his brother suddenly fell after the boxer, the lady gasped for air with her almond eyes open wide. The boxer struggled a bit to get off from under his felled rival, and then came the count.

“... One!”

“How in the abyssal depths did you manage that?!” She screamed at the top of her lungs as she slammed the mat with both her fists. The boxer barely spared an indifferent look at her.

“... Two!”

This is all wrong… she knew what had happened, she just couldn't tell how she couldn't see it coming. All wrong… all wrong. She kept circling in her head, helplessly.

“... Three! … Four!”

If… if we cannot stay in this city… where’ll we go? What’ll we do???

“... Five! … Six! … Seven!”

Hearing “eight” made her snap, hearing “nine” made her shut down. Her mind goes to years past, to escape the final sentence. But she found no peace there… not anymore. By the time she came to, her back was arched like a bridge, and her head was resting on her lap. The first thing she noticed was not the result of the fight, but the gaze of two persons, sitting behind her. How unpleasant, she thought, before realising she had left the fight hanging. So she rose immediately and caught a surprising sight.

The fight had not ended. Sam was barely standing, as the clownish referee checked his face and stance, and the boxer stood in front of him, with something akin to murder, written on their face. All right, so I don't have a plan. She clenched her fists, I just want Sam back. And indeed that's all she wanted, to have her brother back, and to laugh about their unhappy circumstances, to complain about those thunderous counters, and to reminisce about old bygones.

Once the colourful referee knows what he ought to know, he calls the dreaded word “fight!” And for another agonizing two minutes the androgynous, blonde boxer does whatever they want to Sam's unflinching guard. They punch left and right, high and low. Whenever any flesh is left uncovered, the boxer rewards it with a fully cocked straight. Sam is eventually pushed into a ball shape, deep into the ropes.

By the time the two minutes are up, and the bell is rang, Sam is left a mess spread out all over his corner.

“So… that guy turned up pretty though” she said with a weak voice.

“You think?” Sam answers in a deadpan tone.

She placed a towel over his head and gave him water. “You got hit with two counters flush on your jaw, I don't even know how the second one hit, it came as the chick was falling-”

“Yep, he's pretty fast” he cut her off. His breathing was ragged and difficult, “surprising he could even hit that second one in mid air, let alone that sharply.” He let his head fall back.

And in the middle of your one two, she thought, but dared not say. For what could come of acknowledging the colossal nature of their opponent this far in the game.

“Hey,” he interrupted her train of thought, “your plan was solid, it just wasn't meant to go so easily.” He placed his hand atop her head and pulled her close, “and besides, we know his range now.”

Her eyes lit up then, his heart's still in it! She thought. “Y-yes!” She exclaimed, “exactly, haha!” She smiled. Sam smiled back, a timid smile, barely a twist of the lip. And then the girl continued, “so, uh, how are your kicks?”

“Well…” he looked down on her knees and placed a hand over his left thigh. “They'll have to measure up.”

This is going to be a hard fight, she thought. But if there's someone that can pull it off, that guy is Sam! She smiled weakly but heartily. It's true, our plan A went up in flames, but they don't call us martial artists for planning. And besides… I did come up with more plans. Her pulse was steadying, so now that Sam knows your range you'll see why I thought you didn't have a chance with mere boxing. Because in this city, pendejo, just fists and fancy techniques can only carry you so far. In this city, you're gonna need proper instincts. And that Sam's instincts had been weathered, she was sure, for she had come to this city and seen its true face alongside him.

The next time that bell rings, you boyish, green baby that can only hit with your hands, you're gonna regret it!

And so it came that time, when both fighters were ready once more, and the referee, in his colourfully clownish getup, would call the fight to begin again. So it came that time… to ring the bell.

Ding!