Mia Lytte's Arc

Chapter 2 of 4

The three hundred dollars sat safe in Mia's drawer now. The tournament was six days off. She had money and a slot, but she still fought like a lucky accident. So she made a plan the only way she knew how. She would study, and she would train, and she would not walk in blind again. Her apartment turned into a gym. She pushed the couch against the wall and cleared the open floor. Her laptop played fight videos on the counter while she copied every move. She learned to keep her elbows tucked. She learned to plant her feet before she swung. Her basset hound watched from the sleeping nook, ears flat, unimpressed by all of it. When she dropped for push-ups, he sighed and rolled onto his side. By the big windows, she shadowboxed until her arms shook. She ran the stairs outside her building at dawn. She ate more, slept less, and drilled the same punches until they stopped feeling strange. For the first time, her body did what she asked. The qualifier that week ran in a sunken venue below the street. Stone walls, hanging lamps, a stained ring in the middle. Mia climbed down the steps with her hands already wrapped. She felt ready. She looked ready. Her first match proved it. Her opponent came in wild, and Mia slipped the punch and countered clean, exactly like the videos. Two more strikes and the woman went down. The small crowd made noise. Mia grinned. The training worked. This was real skill, not luck. Her second match started the same way. She controlled the range. She landed a hard shot and drove her opponent into the ropes. Then, without thinking, she grabbed the woman's collar and hit her again while she was tangled up. It felt like a finish. The referee stepped in and waved his arms. He pulled Mia back and pointed at her hands. "No holding and striking," he said. "That's a foul. Round goes to her." Mia froze. "What? I didn't—I didn't know that was a rule." "Now you do." He shrugged and turned away. Just like that, it was over. Her opponent got the win. Mia stood in the ring with her wraps still tight, breathing hard, beaten by a rule nobody had told her. All that training, and she'd lost on something the videos never covered. She climbed the stone steps alone and walked home. Her dog met her at the door and leaned against her shins. Mia sank to the floor and let him. The truth settled in. Working out was not enough. Watching strangers on a screen was not enough. She could throw a real punch now, but she didn't know the rules that decided who won and who lost. Six days remained before the tournament that mattered. She needed someone who actually knew this world, and she needed them fast.