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Love the nice friendship and cute silliness I am not entirely sure what the numbers are good for, are they mappings to moves, or sequences of moves? If the latter that would make a fighter too predictable I think, but I am not an expert
Nice to see Elijah is a nice person for Eleanor also probably good he is leaving so Victoria and Eleanor can properly speak alone.
Of course it makes sense for Victoria to believe Eugene and Eleanor would make a couple.
Victoria of course detected the stared daggers lol Also useful loyalty yeah heh. Also viewing people as useful etc, yeah, clearly not compatible with how Eleanor wants to view the world.
Interesting first question to pick
Also answer makes sense for Victoria
Interesting question and answer about Anthony.
Nice to have Victoria show some genuine emotions there I think.
Interesting on the media training Also I like that she puts that offer there, to help, and to use what she can do etc, as for Gardner name, I suppose that makes sense as she has weight. I am glad she trusts her mom to help with the things she can help with.
Also good Victoria realized that even if maybe you think you don't have to say it, you probably should anyway, with the I love you. Yeah I think that was important, even if Eleanor only managed "thanks."
Another good chapter and it was nice to see more of Victoria, and for her to show she has a human side in there too not just a dragon.
Vela Nanashi wrote: Tue Aug 18, 2026 8:59 pm
I am not entirely sure what the numbers are good for, are they mappings to moves, or sequences of moves?
It's just a game she's playing to focus and maybe to train precision and control:
1 = stomach
2 = chest
3 = head
You tell her: "3, 2, 2, 1, 3" and she has to remember the sequence, translate the numbers into body parts, and execute the movement. But I don't consider that to be part of her training, just an exercise she likes to do that combines mental and physical components. A bit like a rhythm game maybe?
Vela Nanashi wrote: Tue Aug 18, 2026 8:59 pm
Victoria of course detected the stared daggers lol Also useful loyalty yeah heh. Also viewing people as useful etc, yeah, clearly not compatible with how Eleanor wants to view the world.
I think we talked a few weeks ago in Discord about that scene when I hadn't written it down yet. I think it shows nicely where mother and daughter clash.
Vela Nanashi wrote: Tue Aug 18, 2026 8:59 pm
Another good chapter and it was nice to see more of Victoria, and for her to show she has a human side in there too not just a dragon.
Thanks! Yeah, that was the biggest challenge. I needed to show that "My daughter was raped by my old high school classmate" affected Victoria without depicting her way of caring in a way that would make her unrecognizable.
Eugene was walking to her right, his arm swaying back and forth with every step he took. His hand was a perfectly predictable pendulum, predictable precisely until Claire made up her mind to reach for his palm. For reasons incomprehensible to her, he seemed to feel the need to gesture with his hand every time she was only a fraction of a second away from grabbing her nimble target.
“There will be twelve fights total, both women and men.”
It seemed so simple. After they finished eating, she had deliberately walked beside him to his left, positioning her right hand in range of her goal. Her left hand, after all, was still a bit greasy after eating her burger – and stealing some of his fries.
“I think Eleanor’s fight is the eighth.”
She was left-handed, so naturally she would have preferred to hold his right hand with her left. But there were no fine motor skills involved in handholding, so she settled for her less skilled but ungreasy right hand.
“Each fight is only three rounds. So don’t expect this to be twelve rounds, like a heavyweight boxing match for the championship. They’re fighting by K-1 rules, but don’t ask me what that means.”
He did it again! He shrugged, throwing his hands in the air in the process! She was doing her best to absorb all the information while she kept tracking his hand. She had no idea how many rounds professional boxers fought, nor did she care much. She only knew that his hand was coming down any moment now, and when it did, she’d grab it. Her anxious hand was curled into a fist as if she were about to throw a punch of her own. Then his shoulders relaxed and the raised arm began to fall. The arm, bent at his elbow, released the tension and his hand was about to drop next to his thigh again. Her phone vibrated.
Eugene turned to her as she reached for her phone with a frustrated sigh. The moment had passed.
“Bad news?”
Eugene sounded concerned watching her read Emily’s text with a disgruntled expression. She shook her head.
“No, just Emily being… nosy.”
Eugene snorted.
“Heh! I wouldn’t be surprised if she later descended from the ceiling like in Mission Impossible just to spy on us.”
Claire tilted her head to the side and placed one finger against her lips as she took a moment to actually imagine Emily in a black spy suit rappelling from the ceiling. The more she thought about it, the wider the grin on her face grew.
“Emily took me bungee jumping once. So her dropping from great heights has precedent.”
They both chuckled.
“What was that like? It sounds fun in theory to me, but I’m scared I might just end up vomiting.”
The memory of the last time she had vomited briefly invaded her mind. Mark’s basement, after… the second time. She pushed the memory away.
“Yeah, same for me. I feel a little sick just thinking about it again. But back then, I didn’t dare say no to Emily.”
“Why not?”
She smiled. She had no particular desire to go bungee jumping again, but she was nevertheless fond of the memory.
“Emily and I met during orientation. I had known her for only about two months when she asked me to go with her. I…”
She hesitated a second.
“I don’t make new friends quickly. And I was glad to have found her. Moving here, living alone for the first time, dealing with the surplus of guys in my field… Emily was like my anchor back then. Looking back, it sounds silly. But I was worried I’d lose her if I said I didn’t want to go.”
Eugene nodded.
“I get that. With Eleanor, I still have somebody from high school. Other than her, I don’t really know many people that well yet. There’s Ashley, but I know her mostly through Eleanor. And then there’s Mark. We have a few courses together, but we haven’t done much together yet outside of class. And of course, there’s y… Claire?”
Claire had stopped dead in her tracks. There was no chance the Mark Eugene was talking about was the Mark. Mark was thirty. What would he even do in a course for engineering freshmen?
“Oh, uh… I was just thinking. Which course do you share with… him?”
Eugene’s face did little to hide his confusion.
“You mean Mark? Introduction to Newtonian Mechanics. We go to Emily’s section together. But if you have a Mark in one of your sections, I doubt that’s him. He has no Eleanor to bully him into taking the ‘real’ math courses instead of those designed for engineering majors…”
Claire breathed a sigh of relief. If a 30-year-old Mark was attending Emily’s section, she would have told her.
“Oh, okay. Must be a different Mark then. It’s a pretty common name after all.”
Claire began to walk again and so did Eugene.
“Sure… So…”
Eugene was visibly searching for something to say.
“What about this old friend of yours? Jason, right? Wasn’t he there too when you were new here?”
Things between Jason and her had returned to normal after the incident on Monday. But despite there being no visible difference to before, something still felt off.
“Oh yeah, he was, he still is. But other than Emily and me, we didn’t share any courses at all. Maybe I should’ve taken a page out of Eleanor’s book and forced him to take a real statistics course instead of whatever knock-off version they’re teaching psychologists.”
She could hardly imagine Jason making it through a more advanced statistics course. She had barely managed to help him through his regular one. And yet, she found some delight in picturing him suffering, trying to actually prove the unbiasedness and consistency of an estimator, and not just apply it. A mischievous grin spread across her face. But who was she kidding? It’d be fun to see him sweat for maybe two weeks, and then she’d teach him after all.
Eugene’s cackle pulled her out of her thoughts.
“Heh! I didn’t know there was a little sadist behind that pretty face.”
So he did find her pretty. Hopefully, she didn’t blush.
“Are you kidding? Why else become a TA if not to legally torture unsuspecting freshmen under the noble pretense of higher education?”
She wagged her finger at him. Eugene raised his hands in playful defense.
“I see. Then I better tread lightly around the likes of Emily and you.”
She saw the bright smile on his face and his kind blue eyes not shying away from her. His pupils were dilated.
“You better. Prolonged exposure bears the risk of learning and enjoying math. And we can’t have that, can we?”
More and more people were crossing their path as they got closer to the venue of the fight, the Riverton college field house.
“It’s a high risk, but I’d be willing to expose myself to…”
Then he abandoned the joke with a sigh, followed by an expression she couldn’t quite read. This time it was him who stopped.
“What’s wrong?”
He shook his head, now looking visibly amused.
“Nothing, just… I’ve been simply enjoying myself. Lately, everything I’ve been doing has been so… tense, even the good stuff.”
She knew exactly what he meant. He was hiding his hands in his pockets now, looking less sure of himself, but he didn’t have trouble finding the words he wanted to say.
“I didn’t really notice that until just now. But…”
She saw him make a deliberate effort to hold eye contact.
“Enjoying myself with you… I think I needed that more than I realized. So… thank you.”
There was no joke, no insincerity, no sign of performance in his voice. Her face softened as she saw him standing there. She was fine to let a fleeting silence linger between them and feel his grateful eyes on her.
“It’s… it’s similar for me. Recently, I’ve…”
For a moment she wondered if telling him what she truly felt was appropriate, but then she decided to go through with it.
“I’ve been nothing but a burden to my friends.”
If he was confused, his face didn’t show it. Nor did he interrupt her.
“So… hearing you say that you enjoy having me around, and don’t just… endure… me…”
She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, opened them again, and finished her sentence.
“…that makes me feel a little less… useless.”
She watched him watching her. First, she could see him thinking: the narrowed eyes, the furrowed eyebrows, the hands clenching in his pockets. Then his face and his posture relaxed as he seemed to come to a conclusion regarding whatever he was thinking about. He pulled his hands out of his pockets, stood a little taller, his eyes opened just the tiniest bit more, and the faintest trace of a gentle smile managed to light up his whole face. His words were barely more than a whisper, not because he didn’t dare to say it out loud, but because he didn’t need to.
“You’re no burden to me.”
She stopped breathing. Eugene was suddenly difficult to see as he turned into a blurry mess in front of her eyes. She hung her head and saw that her boots were blurry as well. She realized she was crying only when she saw her own tears fall to the ground.
“Do you want a hug?”
Eugene’s voice reached her through the fog. She hesitated a second, then nodded while she was frantically wiping her tears away.
Eugene wrapped his arms around her and pulled her toward him. He held her tight. She let her hands and face rest against his chest as she cried. For a moment, she wished they weren’t wearing their winter coats.
When she calmed down, she looked around her, becoming fully aware of the people walking past them to the field house. A lot of students, but also quite a few older people, some of them carrying expensive-looking cameras with them. Despite the close hug, the other pedestrians didn’t seem to pay them much attention, probably thinking this was just a normal hug between boyfriend and girlfriend.
“I’m sorry for making a scene like that.”
She apologized in a nasal tone. Eugene stroked her head. His touch was barely noticeable, just the tips of his fingers gliding through her hair. He cleared his throat.
“A wise woman once said to me: ‘Even if I don’t fully understand what’s going on, I know something hurt you. I got that much. What’s wrong with showing that?’”
Claire took a step out of the embrace, reestablishing some distance between them. She giggled while she was reaching for a tissue in her purse.
“So you’ve already learned the importance of citing your sources. Didn’t think you’d use that against me!”
She wiped the tears off her cheeks.
“When last we met, I was but the learner. Now I am the master! Muahaha!”
She wasn’t the biggest Star Wars fan, but even she knew that quote.
“Yeah, right.”
She rolled her eyes.
“Hey, don’t write me off so easily. For all we know, I could be the next Knödel!”
Claire broke into laughter in the middle of blowing her nose.
“Gödel.”
She corrected him. Eugene just shrugged, seemingly indifferent to his crime toward the Austrian logician. Then he pulled down the zipper of his coat and reached inside.
“Anyway, here’s your ticket. Should we head inside?”
She took the ticket out of his hand. For a fraction of a second, her fingers brushed over his.
“Yeah, let’s. What do I owe you?”
Eugene shook his head.
“Nothing.”
“Eugene, come on. You don’t need to pay for me.”
Eugene closed the zipper again.
“No, no. I meant that literally. Eleanor’s gym is not just participating but hosting the fight night. I got these tickets through her, for free. So I paid literally nothing. Besides, you said ‘your treat’. You’re a TA rolling in money.”
Then he pointed at himself with both hands.
“And me? I’m just a poor freshman. If you’re offering free food, I’m sure as hell not saying no!”
Claire put the tissue back into her purse.
“Rolling in money my ass! I’m pretty sure I offered to buy you coffee, not free lunch for life.”
They resumed walking toward the field house while they kept chatting.
“But more importantly, Knödel is actually German for dumpling. Not sure what that means for your aspirations…”
“That just gives my claim that I could be the next one even more credibility!”
“You’d make a cute dumpling. Fun fact by the way, there’s also this thing called Knödel-numbers in math, but… that’s unrelated to Gödel. They were just named after Walter Knödel.”
“Poor guy. Who wants their family name to be dumpling?”
They showed their tickets at the entrance and headed inside, hands still unheld.
The field house seemed crowded to Claire. At first, she thought she had simply underestimated the popularity of kickboxing, but when Eugene turned out to be surprised too, she quickly realized that this event was bigger than just some local fighting competition. When she took a closer look at the crowd, she saw signs that confirmed her suspicion.
The people with cameras turned out to be journalists, at least a few of them. Some just seemed to walk around and take pictures. But others were unmistakably interviewing the students, asking them whether they were here to support Eleanor and what their thoughts were regarding the Robertson scandal. She even overheard one journalist introduce herself as being from the New York Times. Claire just hoped nobody would ask her about her opinion on the matter.
But the large share of young women among the audience, many even younger than she was, was even more striking. She recognized a few from the sections she taught, especially from her linear algebra section that Eleanor attended. Others, she recognized from courses she had taught in previous semesters. Despite the surprising number of familiar faces, there were even more girls she had never seen before, likely because they had no connection to any STEM major.
To her, Robertson had been her mentor, an aspirational figure. Learning that he had raped Eleanor had been destabilizing, especially after her own experience with Mark. She hadn’t given much thought to what the situation looked like for an ordinary student. Now that she was taking a moment to consider it, she didn’t find it hard to imagine.
‘One in six women has experienced attempted or completed rape’, ‘One in three victims report the assault’: she knew the facts by heart at this point. Of course, she didn’t need to remember the numbers to know that the looming threat of sexual violence was a lingering constant in every woman’s life. But if she translated the statistics into lived reality, she could only wonder how many silent stories like her own were gathered in this room to watch Eleanor’s fight, the fight of the woman who had publicly accused her rapist – and won.
Claire was waiting for Eugene to return from the men’s room. She had taken a quick trip to the restroom herself, less so because she needed to pee, but to properly wash her slightly greasy hand. She wasn’t sure if Eugene actually had to go or just needed a moment upon learning that the ring had been set up in the middle of the basketball court. The last time she had asked him about basketball, he had stormed out of the Infinite Pint. She remembered him suddenly sweating and growing pale. She still didn’t know what that had been about, but basketball was clearly a touchy subject.
The rest of the court was almost entirely covered by white folding chairs. Their tickets allowed them to sit close to the ring with the team from Paragon Combat Sports, Eleanor’s gym. But until it was Eleanor’s turn, they had decided to watch from the wide concourse encircling the court above the bleachers. Claire had draped her coat over the railing and was now leaning on it as she watched the second bout of the night. The first had come to an end just as they had arrived.
Claire lacked the insight to really understand who was winning. Two relatively small, but well-trained men were facing each other. At first, they seemed cautious. They were quick on their feet as they circled each other. It looked a bit like they were dancing. Then the black guy closed in on the redhead and started pummeling him. The redhead tumbled backwards as he tried to land a few punches and kicks of his own. This process seemed to repeat itself again and again, coming to a temporary end only when the referee decided to separate the two men whenever they started to cuddle at the edge of the ring.
A murmur went through the crowd and Claire had to briefly look away. A strong kick had landed directly in the redhead’s face. The impact was accompanied by a loud thud that left little to the imagination.
“That sounded painful.”
She turned her head. Eugene was back. He had taken his coat off too, revealing a DragonForce hoodie underneath. He stood to her right and leaned on the railing as well. Of course he chose the wrong side.
“Yeah, I think he’s bleeding. Can he keep fighting like this?”
She looked up at Eugene’s face as she asked. It lasted only a second, so she wasn’t sure, but did he check out her ass?
“If the referee thinks the fight’s too dangerous for ginger boy, he can call it off even if he hasn’t been knocked out yet. But I can’t tell you if that will happen here.”
The fight continued, only for the first round to come to an end mere seconds later.
“Literally saved by the bell, I guess.”
Eugene commented. His hand was so close now, his arm resting perfectly still directly beside hers. All she needed was a tiny push and…
“Speaking of redheads, who’s she?”
Eugene pointed at her purple sweater. She looked at the anime girl printed across her chest.
“That’s… Makise Kurisu. She’s one of my favorite characters.”
Eugene smiled.
“She looks cool. I think I’ve seen pictures of her before. Should I watch the anime?”
She had to think for a second.
“Hmm, I think the humor would be right up your alley, but…”
She had made a decision. She took a step back and walked around Eugene.
“…if you’re bothered by mangled science in time travel stories…”
Eugene turned his head as he tried to follow her with his eyes.
“…then you better skip this one.”
And she stopped in the perfect position, just to his right. Eugene was visibly amused.
“Anything wrong with your old spot?”
“There… there was a draft.”
Eugene held out his hand where she had been standing until seconds ago.
“I don’t feel anyth…”
A familiar voice interrupted them.
“Hi!”
Ashley chirped in her high-pitched voice as she approached them with Eleanor in tow. The two of them couldn’t have looked more different. The girly Ashley in her pink, off-the-shoulder top and her black, pleated mini-skirt radiated pure enthusiasm. Meanwhile, Eleanor approached them with a stern expression on her face. She was wearing black track pants, a black sports bra, and an open jacket while she hid her face underneath its hood. She looked as if she was about to beat someone up – only for Claire to realize that this was exactly what she was here for.
Eugene waved at them. Ashley was immediately busy gifting free hugs, whereas Eleanor cautiously pulled back her hood and took a quick look around. Then she addressed them both.
“Hey. I can’t stay for long. My coach didn’t want me to go out at all before the fight. But I wanted to at least say hello.”
Claire was relieved to hear that Eleanor didn’t mind her being here. She had wanted to show her support, but was worried that the sheer number of people reaching out to Eleanor would be overwhelming. But what was she supposed to say now? Bringing up Robertson, even indirectly as part of complimenting her bravery, didn’t feel appropriate.
“I like your hair. You look very pretty with that long braid.”
She had never seen Eleanor wear her long black hair like that. Usually, she wore it loose. It gave her tall stature a distinct femininity, not girly but elegant. For a moment, Eleanor looked surprised. Then she playfully tossed her head back and forth, making her braid fall over her shoulder. She held it in her palm and presented it to them.
“You think so? It’s actually more of a practical thing for the fight than a fashion choice. Long hair can easily become a nuisance.”
That made sense, but it didn’t change her opinion.
“I still think it’s very cute!”
“Thanks!”
Ashley chimed in.
“I didn’t know you were into kickboxing – or anime.”
Ashley had noticed her sweater as well.
“Oh, I…”
Fortunately, Eleanor saved her.
“Relax, guys. You don’t need to pretend that you’ve been passionate about kickboxing all along. I appreciate you coming either way.”
Claire smiled at her.
“So, uh… Is this your outfit for your fight?”
Both Eleanor and Eugene chuckled.
“No, no jacket, no track pants. Just shorts and a sports bra. And of course, no…”
Eleanor raised her leg.
“…shoes. That… wouldn’t end well.”
Claire remembered ginger boy getting kicked in the face. Imagining the same kick with shoes wasn’t a pretty sight.
Eugene had been quiet so far, but now he had something to say. Meanwhile, the second round of the fight started, providing their conversation with an undercurrent of cheers, collectively held breaths, and the occasional hit with a strong enough impact that the sound cut through the ambient noise of the crowd.
“Before we spend all our time imagining broken noses… do you two want to come over to our place sometime and watch that anime Claire is so shamelessly advertising?”
Eugene exchanged a look with Eleanor. She nodded. Ashley’s eyes lit up. She clapped her hands together.
“I’m in! We’re binging this bitch!”
Technically, this would mean going home with Eugene on their second date. But would this even count as a date? The others would be there. If this were Emily planning the evening, she’d expect everybody but Eugene and herself to miraculously cancel last minute. But that wasn’t Eugene’s style.
“Yeah, I’d like that.”
Eugene nodded.
“Cool! Bring Emily and Jason as well, if they want to.”
She was surprised.
“You want me to invite Jason?”
Eugene shrugged.
“Yeah, why not? Spares me the fate of ending up alone surrounded by girls.”
Ashley laughed.
“You make that sound like some horrible punishment!”
Eugene smirked.
“It might sound nice on paper, but I know my limits!”
They talked for a few more minutes. Eleanor was trying her best to explain a thing here or there, but for Claire, the fighters were moving too fast, and the various punches and kicks came in such close succession that it was hard for her to categorize them and assess their purpose. Eugene was watching the fight in silence, happy to let Eleanor do the talking. He was absent-mindedly twirling his curls around his index finger, which made Claire smile in delight. Ashley, meanwhile, was on a completely different mission, swooning over the winning fighter’s abs. Ginger boy eventually ended up lying on his back, bleeding from his battered nose. He wasn’t unconscious, but the fight ended nevertheless with a KO.
The flash of a camera burst their little bubble. A middle-aged man in a white shirt had taken a photo of them. Claire saw him standing below on the court. He pointed at them, showing their position to a woman who she presumed to be his colleague. Eleanor let out an annoyed sigh.
“I better get going. It won’t help my chances if my coach kills me before the fight begins. If you want to, I can take your coats with me and put them in my locker?”
Claire and Eugene shared a quick glance. Then Eugene responded.
“Yes, thanks! We’re rooting for you. Break a leg!”
Eleanor grinned as she took their coats from them.
“Hopefully not mine! Claire, let me know next time you go to the gym again. We could go together.”
It had been a while since Claire had gone to the gym, but she had indeed run into Eleanor there a couple of times before.
“Let’s do that! Going together gives me some extra motivation to get my ass off the couch!”
Eleanor gave her a thumbs-up, then turned to Ashley.
“Come with me. I could use some help carrying the coats.”
Ashley looked confused as she was about to hand her coat to Eleanor too.
“What? Why? It’s just three coats.”
Eleanor rolled her eyes, grabbed Ashley, and pulled her along.
“Bye guys, have fun!”
Eugene and Claire said their goodbyes as Eleanor was already on her way, berating Ashley, who followed her reluctantly.
“Do I really need to explain to you what cockbl…”
The announcement for the next round swallowed her voice as she walked away.
The moment Eleanor left, the photographer began to follow Eleanor and Ashley. Claire looked to Eugene.
“I don’t like leaving her alone like that.”
Eugene leaned back on the railing, following Eleanor with his eyes for as long as he could.
“I feel the same way. But there’s nothing we can do. Her going back to her coach is the best she can do if she wants privacy.”
The next bout didn’t register much with Claire. The fighters looked taller and bulkier than the guys from the previous fight and one of them had walked out to a song she actually knew. But after that, she didn’t remember much, not even who won in the end.
She was watching Eugene, or to be precise: his hand, the elusive beast she had been chasing this whole evening. She saw him hold his stomach while he laughed, sheepishly scratch his nose when he wasn’t sure if one of his silly jokes landed, and play with his pretty curls without even noticing it himself.
She wasn’t nervous anymore. Though that wasn’t entirely correct. She was still excited to take his hand. But she was no longer scared.
What was the worst that could possibly happen? In the grand scheme of things, holding this doofus’ hand wasn’t difficult if she really wanted to, no matter how much he gesticulated. She had seen Eleanor shoulder so much. She was sure Eugene was carrying his own burdens even though she knew little about them. And she, she had been kidnapped and raped a mere two weeks ago, but was now standing here, overthinking, laughing, making plans for the future, and seeking happiness despite it all.
Even if, against all available evidence, Eugene didn’t want to hold her hand, she’d be able to handle that too. In the end, reaching for his hand was a trivial thing. And yet, she didn’t mind that the thought alone made her heart flutter.
Eugene was about to run his hand through his hair. But before he could do so, Claire stood on her toes, stretched out her arm, and snatched his hand, preventing it from making contact with his scalp. She pulled his arm down, laying it beside hers on the railing, and interlocked her fingers with his to keep his hand where it belonged – in hers.
She watched him out of the corner of her eye. Eugene just stood there, silent, his mouth agape. She didn’t know what Eugene’s expectations and plans had been, but he clearly didn’t expect her to intercept his hand while it was hovering right in front of his face.
“If you don’t like it, say something. Otherwise, that’s mine now until the end of our date.”
Usually, Eugene’s eyes looked observant. She liked how they softened when he was being kind to someone, which was precisely what they were doing now.
“I’ll leave it in your hands then, free of charge.”
He squeezed her back, just a little, with the same tenderness that accompanied his smile.
And again, I've had to split a chapter in two. What was originally intended to be only chapter 8 will now be covered by chapters 8 and 9. I resisted splitting the chapter for a long time. But since I'll be approaching the 10,000 words mark on this, I ultimately decided to end chapter 8 here.
After this chapter, this reader wants Claire and Eugene to be happy! Their interactions are so good and written with great care. It doesn't feel like it's circa 5000 words either.
Aww sad that she failed in mission capture hand. I am not sure if there is a smoother subtle way to achieve that
Yeah for us that make few but deeper friendships it is not easy to make new friends.
Trigger on name is very understandable.
That statistics thing sounds like it came from you
I love their interactions
I think she really needed that hug, and so did he.
Very cute couple, they better have a great time
Claire, you need to stop expecting Eugene to take hints, it is cute and all, but sometimes you need to be more direct, I am sure if you took his hand he would not protest
Nice group activity planned
Lol yeah stop cockblocking Ashley sheesh
I am glad Claire is making plans for the future and seeking happiness despite it all.
Yay taking initiative good and catching the elusive hand Eugene might have been a tiny bit scared of initiating body contact, given his earlier asking if she would like a hug, kind of damage of our time, but also probably coloured by his personal experiences and that of others around him.
@Lucius Thanks! Chapters 8 and 9 are 11395 words together. So it was definitely the right choice to split them. Honestly, I probably could have turned this into three chapters, but I think two works fine. I'll post chapter 9 later today! It's finished. I'm just not in the mood to do the BB-code formatting right now.
@Vela Nanashi Glad you enjoyed the chapter! I don't think Eugene is scared of initiating physical contact. He did that already back in chapter 6. I just picture him as the kind of guy who would make a move closer to the end of the date, probably after Eleanor's fight. It makes sense I guess? If the date does get awkward, you'd ideally would not want that to happen before the fight of the friend you came to support is over. But honestly, the main reason was that the chapter was about Claire's agency. It was important for the narrative that Claire is active here.
Claire watched the next two fights holding Eugene’s hand, the sole exception being a couple of minutes when they went to buy something to drink, her treat of course. She was more interested in these fights again, partially because her campaign to conquer Eugene’s hand had come to a successful conclusion. But her interest was piqued even more by the fact that bouts four and five featured female fighters.
She didn’t really know what to expect from a women’s kickboxing match. Her standard for what female fighters looked like was Eleanor, but the women entering the ring quickly corrected that image. They were obviously all in good shape, the results of their training clearly visible on their bare arms, legs, and midriff. But neither of the four women was nearly as tall as Eleanor, nor did any of them strike her as masculine in their appearance. They had all bound their hair in one way or another, with braids seeming to be a popular option, except for one fighter who sported a pixie cut. They didn’t look like they were blessed with a particular build well-suited for combat, but instead, for lack of a better comparison, as if Emily and Ashley had decided to pick up kickboxing as a hobby. If she met them outside of this event wearing normal clothes, she never would have guessed any of them to be into combat sports.
When it came to the actual fights, she wasn’t able to identify any noticeable difference from the bout she had watched before. If anything, the woman with the pixie cut felt the most ferocious and ruthless of all fighters she had seen so far. She put relentless pressure on her opponent, intent to demolish her face for almost nine minutes straight, only to give her a hearty hug after the end of the fight. In a way, she imagined that getting into a fight with one of these women on the street to be even scarier than getting into one with one of the male fighters. Most people wouldn’t expect anything from them, but go down quickly in a flurry of punches and kicks they never saw coming.
And then there was the audience reaction. The spectators didn’t seem to treat the women’s fights as a lesser version of the male match-ups. She didn’t know if that was generally the case or a side-effect of so many women showing up today. As Eleanor’s fight slowly drew closer, the gymnasium got even more packed.
Between bouts five and six, she spotted a few more people she was sure had little interest in kickboxing. There was Nicole, who briefly greeted them, voicing her surprise that the boy who supported Eleanor also turned out to be the student Claire had requested a section transfer for. She didn’t stay long when she noticed the held hands and left with a knowing smile, the sighed “Ah, youth!” written all over her face.
Then there was Alex, Claire’s favorite colleague to hate. He was the very embodiment of the stereotypically arrogant mathematician with a god complex. To her surprise, he left her alone even when he saw her with Eugene. He instead talked to Professor Martinez.
Eugene pointed out Eleanor’s mother to her. Once she saw her, the resemblance was hard to overlook. She was tall, not as tall as Eleanor, but still significantly taller than the average woman. But even more than that, it was clear from whom Eleanor had inherited that beautiful, long raven hair. Victoria looked a bit out of place, though, wearing that Princeton jersey. The elegant upper-class woman was hidden behind a thin veil of Ivy-League sports wear and a baseball cap. But despite what Claire thought, it seemed to distort her normal appearance strongly enough that journalists left the matriarch of the women’s fashion empire known as White Mare alone.
What caught Claire’s attention even more was the woman Victoria Gardner was standing next to and talking with. Claire had seen her only a couple of times in person, but unless she was mistaken, Victoria was talking to Marla Robertson, Anthony Robertson’s wife. Now that she was thinking about it, Marla could be considered another victim of Robertson’s actions. She was a Professor at Riverton herself, doing research in sociology. She was also known for speaking out publicly against rape culture on campus, urging the university to protect female students more, sometimes even to the point of drawing the ire of the administration with her advocacy. Claire could only imagine what finding out the truth about her husband must have been like for her.
The sixth fight was about to begin. After two women’s bouts, this one featured male fighters again. Eugene’s eyes lit up in pure bliss when one of the fighters turned out to be a long-haired metalhead walking out to DragonForce’s Valley of the Damned. Despite the power-metal theatrics, the guy’s name, Geoffrey So, couldn’t have been any less intimidating. Nevertheless, Eugene was clearly in love, and Claire didn’t need to ask who they were rooting for this round.
While the second fighter walked out, Claire joked.
“If you ever need walkout music, you have to go with Gimme chocolate!!”
Eugene snorted.
“Obviously!”
Then she had a funny thought.
“If there are hyperintelligent aliens out there, studying us like we study animals, what do you think they’d make of events like this?”
Eugene contemplated her question for a moment.
“You mean like… a nature documentary? But on humans?”
“Yeah, something like that.”
“Hmm, let me think.”
Eugene didn’t say anything for a few seconds. He was deep in thought. Then his face relaxed. He took Claire’s hand, pulled it gently to the left, and placed her fingers on the palm of his left hand instead. Two small steps, and he was standing behind her. His right hand brushed against her right shoulder. Her eyes followed the tips of his fingers sliding down her arm to her free hand, leaving goosebumps in their steps.
Then they stood there, Eugene behind her, her hands resting in his palms supported by the railing, his arms loosely framing hers. Her head rested against his chest, just under his chin. His speech became slow, imitating the deep, melodious voice of a seasoned narrator.
“The Human Condition – Episode 6”
The fight began.
“Last episode, we tried to understand why in many human cultures prolonged survival is celebrated with setting dessert on fire and forcing the celebrated survivor to extinguish the flames with their breath alone. Today…”
Claire suppressed her laughter, shaking slightly, while trying her best not to interrupt him.
“…we will take a deeper look at humans engaging in ritualistic combat. So far, we haven’t been able to conclusively decipher the purpose of these fights. The most widely accepted theory is that the, at first glance, nonsensical behavior is a form of religious worship. But some researchers dispute the theory, claiming the humans are hurting each other for fun.”
If Eugene was struggling with maintaining the façade, he didn’t show it.
“The tribe gathers around the sacred square that the humans commonly call a ‘ring’ for unknown reasons – despite being perfectly capable of distinguishing round from rectangular shapes in other contexts. The beginning of the ritual is announced by a third human positioned inside the sacred square. While often ostensibly weaker than the two combatants, the two primary participants in the ritual seem to accept the authority of the overseeing human over when the ritual begins, stops, resumes, and ends.”
Claire leaned back against Eugene while he kept going. He was so close now. She could feel his warmth, the rhythmic rise-and-fall of his chest, and his hot breath caressing her ear.
“… the ritual on display is performed by two males. Other than some related species on this planet, human males and females can’t be distinguished by the color of their fur – which is oddly concentrated on their head and can grow remarkably long. While all humans might look the same to you, especially when wearing garments, subtle gender markers can be identified by a careful observer. Human males, for example, seem more prone to baring their chest for unknown reasons, while females often let their head-fur grow longer. These are, however, only indicators correlated with gender, not perfect predictors. Researchers suspect…”
Her hands looked so small in his. Her fingers were nestled in his palm, his thumb lovingly stroking the back of her hand. There was no pressure behind his touch. Just a delicate, ghostlike back and forth, so light it felt almost incidental, yet clearly deliberate. His thumb left no visible trace, but it made her skin tingle in a way that was impossible to ignore.
“…behavior seem contradictory at times. For some instances of particularly effective strikes, the tribe seems to cheer on the violence, while in other cases the onlookers avert their eyes in disgust or horror. This apparent contradiction…”
Eugene’s hands were lovely. His palms were soft, his fingers long and slim. His hands were meant neither for fighting nor physical labor. Instead, she pictured them fulfilling more sensual tasks. Guiding a brush over a canvas. Playing a gentle melody on a piano. Caressing a baby’s head. And yet, when she saw her hands in his and noticed the ease with which he could envelop hers, she knew that she wasn’t looking at a woman’s hands, but the strong, slender fingers of a man.
“…the two males are circling each other, the sacred square confining their movement…”
Claire turned her head, pressing her ear against his chest. She found what she had been searching for. Ba—dum… ba—dum… ba—dum. She doubted that her own heart was so calm.
“…strangely, the overseer seems to intervene most often when the two males abandon the violence for a spontaneous embrace, tenderness being seemingly forbidden until the end of the ritual…”
Ba—dum… ba—dum… ba—dum.
“…the brief, regularly scheduled pauses are another mystery that…”
Ba—dum… ba—dum… ba—dum. Claire glanced up at Eugene’s mouth. She saw his lips moving, even as the words escaping them lost their meaning. She noticed she was breathing through her mouth now. Her face was hot. Eugene’s tender thumbs sent pleasant shivers through her body. A warmth she hadn’t felt since that night at the Infinite Pint began to pool below her belly. She was surprised, but welcomed the return of the sensation she thought she might have lost for good. Fortunately, Eugene couldn’t see that, an undeniable advantage of the female body.
“…’something funny about aliens watching humans hit each other’…”
Ba—dum… ba—dum… ba—dum. She needed, she wanted to feel more of him. She took his hands firmly in hers, lifted them off the railing, and pulled them toward her, positioning his arms exactly where she wanted: wrapped around her shoulders, lying just above her breasts. Then she put her own hands on his arms, keeping them in place.
“…”
Ba-dum ba-dum ba-dum. Eugene’s heart beat faster. His deep narrator voice suffered from a brief crack, but he quickly resumed the narration. She smiled. He wasn’t unaffected either. He put a little more strength into his arms, pulling her into him as he desired to feel more of her. She gently stroked his arms, tracing the shape of the muscles holding her, while his thumb was now caressing her shoulder with the same calming, exciting rhythm it had stroked the back of her hand before. Ba-dum ba-dum ba-dum.
Somewhere in the distance, the winner of the fight was announced. Claire didn’t care. She closed her eyes and immersed herself in the moment. She could feel herself sink deeper and deeper into his heartbeat, into his warmth, into the strength of his embrace.
“You still with me?”
Eugene’s question was an amused whisper.
“Mhm.”
She nodded, rubbing her flushed cheek against his chest. Then she took the hand caressing her left shoulder and rearranged it one more time until it reached her heart. She wanted him to feel her heartbeat too. She didn’t know what her heart revealed to him, but she could sense his hand relax the moment it came to rest. All the while, her panties had started to feel noticeably damp, a secret she happily kept to herself. Ba-dum ba-dum ba-dum.
Claire was losing her sense of time. She was wrapped in a Eugene-shaped bubble she didn’t want to leave. For a second, his soft whisper registered as the most rude interruption of her current bliss.
“We should slowly but surely get to our seats. Eleanor’s fight is the next one.”
She opened her eyes, yielding to the outside world’s demands for her attention. The seventh fight had just begun. If it ended in an early knockout, the announcement for Eleanor’s fight could start within minutes. Eugene took a step back, ending the close embrace she was already missing. His hands lingered on her shoulders.
“Ready to go?”
He asked. She nodded and turned around.
“Yeah, let’s go.”
Eugene offered her his hand. She took it without hesitation.
They made their way down the stairs. Claire had noticed from the concourse that more people had arrived over time, but she only fully realized how crowded the field house had become now that she and Eugene diffused into the masses. She generally disliked moving through dense crowds. As a small person, she could easily be swallowed by an avalanche of people.
After making it past the flow of people hurrying to their seats or the concourse, they finally arrived at their own seats by the ring. For the first time, Claire didn’t see a fight from a distance and above. Looking up from directly next to the ring, the traded blows immediately felt more visceral. The Paragon fighter landed a combination, the excited “Ooohh!!” of the audience washed over her from all directions, and the opponent’s coach could be heard frantically shouting instructions at his protégé.
Claire and Eugene sat down behind several Paragon members. Eugene greeted those he knew and introduced Claire. She was most surprised by seeing ginger boy among them. As it turned out, his name was Robert. Now that he had a name and she saw him up close, she started to feel for him. He had freckles, just like her, but they were starting to get eaten by the dark shades of red and blue spreading from his nose.
Besides Robert, she also recognized pixie-cut, whose name was Layla. She didn’t expect any of the fighters to watch the bouts after their own, but all the previous Paragon fighters had apparently decided to witness Eleanor’s fight. Thinking of Eugene’s mock documentary, she couldn’t help but think that in times of crisis, the tribe came together to care for a wounded member.
The seventh fight ended with a technical KO in the second round. Shortly after, Ashley came running in a hurry and joined them.
“Please tell me I didn’t miss Ellie! I wanted to be here sooner, but I swear, the line in front of the ladies’ room was approaching infinity!”
Claire smirked. It wasn’t a great math joke, but she decided that, every now and then, it was okay to grade her students on effort.
“No, you’re just in time. Look, there, the announcer is coming back.”
Claire pointed to the announcer returning to the ring. She hadn’t seen him from up close yet, but even he looked a little nervous despite having done this seven times already.
Claire was sitting right of Eugene, still holding his hand, while Ashley sat down to his left. She poked him several times with her elbow and whispered something into his ear.
“Hehe, didn’t kn… you… in… ol… women.”
She could feel Eugene chuckle through his hand. Then he put his index finger against Ashley’s temple and pushed her a few inches away from him. Ashley was clearly having fun, letting out a hearty laugh.
Ashley, together with the rest of the audience, grew immediately silent when the announcer started to speak.
“Ladies and gentlemen, it is time for the eighth bout of the evening!”
Professors all over the country wished students would hold their breath upon their entry as the audience did for Eleanor’s fight. The sudden silence was eerie. Claire could almost feel the people sitting and standing behind her lean forward.
“Making her way to the ring first, representing Vanguard Kickboxing, please welcome – Maya Torres!”
The crowd collectively exhaled as if Eleanor walking out second were a major disappointment. Maya was, nevertheless, received politely. Despite rooting for Eleanor, Claire felt bad for Maya. She wouldn’t want to be in her shoes, or maybe gloves were more apt in this case. Almost everybody in this room wanted to see Maya lose through no fault of her own.
Maya walked out accompanied by the rhymes of a rapper Claire didn’t recognize, her coach two steps behind her. Green seemed to be Maya’s color of choice. She wore her hair in a braid just like Eleanor, albeit shorter. She walked steadily, no theatrics for the crowd, only the occasional glance to the bleachers. She likely had never fought in front of an audience this big.
Next, the announcer finally gave the crowd what they had been waiting for.
The crowd erupted in cheers before the announcer had even finished saying her name. The rock music playing for Eleanor was struggling for dominance against the crowd.
“I'm a runaway train on a broken track
I'm a ticker on a bomb, that you can't turn back this time
That's right
I got away with it all and I'm still alive
Let the end of the world come tumbling down
I'll be the last man standing on the ground
And if my shadow's all that survives
I'm still alive“
Eleanor was greeted with standing ovations. If there was anybody present who was unaware of what she had done, the experience must have been bizarre for them.
Eleanor’s gaze was demonstratively focused on the ring. She was walking with quick steps. Her coach, a mountain of a man who made even her look small, walked beside her to her left, shielding her from the frenzy of flashing cameras to the best of his ability. Another female coach of her gym accompanied her to her right. Eleanor was dressed in all black. Completely ignoring the frenetic audience, she stepped into the ring, now an easy target for the cameras chasing her.
Everybody in this room knew that Eleanor had been raped. Now they were cheering for her, celebrating her. Claire gulped. Eleanor’s story had been revealed to the public a mere six days after it had happened. Another five days later, she was stepping into the ring without a moment’s hesitation. It was incomprehensible to Claire. She admired Eleanor while, at the same time, just imagining herself in her place made her feel sick. Instinctively, she held Eugene’s hand a little tighter. In response, she felt his thumb caressing the back of her hand again. He looked at her.
“Don’t worry. Trust her. She got this.”
Claire nodded. The announcer gave the crowd a few more seconds to calm down before he continued.
“Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce first, fighting out of the blue corner! She weighed in at 139 pounds and enters the fight tonight with an amateur record of three wins and one loss. From Vanguard Kickboxing – Maya Torres!”
He continued without further ado.
“And her opponent, fighting out of the red corner! She weighed in at 140 pounds and enters the ring undefeated with an amateur record of four wins. From Paragon Combat Sports – Eleanor Price!”
Claire was surprised.
“I thought you watched Eleanor fight almost a dozen times?”
Eugene gave her a nod.
“Yeah, but for most of those fights she was still a junior. I guess they don’t include those in the record. I think she had something like seven wins and three losses in her junior fights.”
The coaches were helping both fighters get ready. Maya and Eleanor were wearing gloves matching the color of their corners, blue and red respectively. The coaches could be heard giving a last bit of advice, the mouthguards were put in, and then both fighters met in the center of the ring. The referee went through a few final instructions after which they touched gloves and went back into their corners. Seconds later, the bell rang, signaling the official start of the first round.
Eleanor came out of the gates swinging, metaphorically and literally. Maya was immediately forced to retreat. Two times the referee stopped them from cuddling, or clinching as Eleanor had called it. When they stood this close, Eleanor’s height advantage became readily apparent. The audience was on fire. And to Claire, Eleanor looked in control of the fight. But then she saw her coach shake his head. She turned to Eugene.
“Does Eleanor always fight like that?”
Eugene shook his head as well.
“No, uh, usually she lets her opponents approach her. Maybe she’s trying a new strategy. I don’t know.”
The first minute of the round, Eleanor was clearly dominating. But then the momentum began to shift. Maya, who seemed surprised by the unusual aggression, was adapting to Eleanor’s full throttle offensive. She was dodging Eleanor’s strikes and countered. She landed several kicks on Eleanor’s stomach and thighs. Eleanor was getting noticeably slower even to Claire’s untrained eyes.
The first round ended not long after. Three minutes had become suspiciously short now that Claire was invested in the fight. She couldn’t understand what Eleanor’s coach was telling her, but the anger in his voice was clear. Eleanor closed her eyes and nodded.
Claire took a look around. People were not just watching and cheering, many were also filming. And the journalists were taking photos relentlessly. She spotted Eleanor’s mother on the concourse, not far from where Eugene and she had watched earlier, and saw her tapping her foot, arms folded across her chest.
Claire tapped Layla on the shoulder, who was talking with Robert.
“I’m completely new to kickboxing. Can you tell me who won this round?”
“Sure, no problem. Hard to say how this round will be scored. Looked about equal to me. Ellie clearly had her in the first half, but the second half was Maya’s. I’m more worried about the momentum of the fight than the score of the first round.”
“Thanks!”
The break was over. The bell rang again, and round two started. Immediately, the fight looked so different that it was hard to believe that these were the same two women from the first round.
Eleanor’s new strategy looked much more like what Eugene had described. She kept her distance and put her longer arms and legs to use. Maya could no longer rely on Eleanor enthusiastically stepping into her range. She now had to close that gap on her own somehow and that turned out to be easier said than done.
Maya approached, Eleanor’s right arm snapped forward. She tried it again, Eleanor’s foot lunged at her like a snake. Every time she tried to close the gap, those long limbs stopped her dead in her tracks.
The second round was approaching the halfway point. Maya’s frustration was becoming obvious. Sometimes, Eleanor did nothing more than briefly raise her leg in the air and that was enough for Maya to retreat before she had even attempted a strike. Eleanor, on the other hand, occasionally threw a punch from a distance, then immediately took a step back again.
The crowd didn’t get the spectacle of the first minute of round one, but was nevertheless pleased to see Eleanor clearly winning this round. Her coach looked satisfied too, even her mother looked relaxed now as she was standing with her legs crossed, leaning on the railing.
But then Maya managed to close the distance, albeit at the cost of absorbing a strong kick to her leg. For a second, Claire was worried this might turn out to be Maya’s chance, but her advance quickly ended in another clinch. The referee was already on her way to separate them. Before she could do so, Claire and everybody else sitting ringside, could hear Maya.
“You scared to come at me? Are you freezing again?!”
Eleanor reacted immediately, pursuing Maya even as the referee tried to separate them. Many people close to the ring gasped. Ashley jumped out of her seat.
“That bitch! I’ll fucking kill her!”
Eugene pulled her back, even though his eyes reflected the same anger that was driving Ashley. Claire could feel the grip of his hand tightening around hers, as did her own. She wasn’t prone to violence, but now she hoped as well that Eleanor would knock Maya out cold.
The referee sent both fighters back into their corners, and then reprimanded Maya for foul play. Eleanor’s coach was trying his best to calm her down, but she was barely listening. The way Eleanor was staring down Maya, she looked scary.
When the fight resumed, Eleanor’s previous control was gone. She was fighting as if a last second knockout was her final desperate chance at victory. Meanwhile, Maya was clearly pleased that her provocation had paid off. She was landing hit after hit while Eleanor burned through her remaining stamina.
The difference in their approaches became so obvious that even Claire could see it. Eleanor was chasing Maya around the ring, every new strike an attempt at knocking her out. She prioritized hurting Maya over winning. Meanwhile, Maya wasn’t looking for a grand finale to this fight. She was content to inflict a death by a thousand cuts.
When the round ended, Eleanor was definitely worse for wear compared to her opponent. Everybody could see it. Ashley was biting her nails, Eugene was tapping his foot, the audience was silent, and nobody from Paragon except for her coach was saying a word. The room had become so quiet that Claire could understand what Eleanor’s coach was saying even though he was speaking more calmly than after the first round.
“Listen, that little bitch got nothing on you. You hear me? Nothing. I know that, you know that, she knows that. That’s why she has to resort to bullshit like that. So fight your fight, don’t let her control the pace. Don’t give her what she wants, that’s how you put her in her place. Alright?”
Eleanor seemed to calm down somewhat. But she didn’t let Maya out of her sight, not for a second. It was hard to tell if she was even hearing her coach.
The bell rang a third time. At first glance, the fight looked like it had returned to the dynamic of the first half of the second round. Eleanor was no longer blindly charging forward and Maya had trouble again getting close. The excitement of the crowd seemed to be perfectly correlated with Maya’s growing frustration.
Yet something felt different. Maybe it was just the tension of the fight nearing its end. But to Claire, Eleanor’s strikes seemed more forceful, more relentless than earlier. When the leg was raised, it kicked. It was never just a warning anymore. When she landed a counter with her fist, a second strike followed immediately. When Eleanor’s foot connected in the second round, it often didn’t do much more than push Maya away. Now it looked determined to leave an imprint on her body.
“Come on… One, three, two…”
Eugene murmured to himself, his fist raised in front of his face. Claire had no idea what he was counting.
Both fighters looked tired at this point, but Maya was literally gasping for air. She was barely landing hits anymore and struggled with keeping up her guard.
Then a punch to Maya’s liver, retreat, Eleanor followed, a punch aimed at Maya’s chin, arms going up, a last second block, Eleanor bounced on her left leg, the right hovering in front of her chest for a fleeting moment, finally three kicks in quick succession: Stomach – Maya bent over. Head – Maya bent back. Chest – Maya tumbled backward. She would have fallen on her back if not for the ropes catching her.
Eleanor followed her, determined to end the fight, the roaring crowd supporting her advance. But the referee intervened to check on Maya. She was still standing, even though she wasn’t looking so good anymore. She was heaving, seemingly disoriented, arms hanging by her sides, face bleeding from a cut. The referee started to count.
Maya slowly recovered as the count went up. Eleanor looked at her with zero sympathy for her condition. She taunted her opponent, gesturing Maya to come at her. This was a side of Eleanor Claire hadn’t seen before. Eleanor didn’t want this to end yet. She was scary when she was angry.
The referee’s count reached eight when she decided that Maya was able to continue the fight. The moment the fight resumed, Eleanor was back at it. She no longer had to keep her distance. There were 30 seconds left and the fight knew only one direction. Eleanor attacked while Maya fled and desperately tried to block Eleanor’s heavy strikes. The fight was no longer about who would win, but about if Maya would be able to keep standing until the clock ran out.
14 seconds left, then it happened. Eleanor landed a strong kick on Maya’s thigh. She retreated, but her leg gave out and she stumbled. Eleanor wasted no time and mercilessly capitalized on the opening. Even Claire could name the kick that followed. A roundhouse kick hit Maya in the head, no guard, and sent her crashing to the floor, the impact accompanied by a loud thud. The audience went silent.
11 seconds left, Maya was trying to get up again. Eleanor rushed in. Maya was sitting on one knee, trying to stand up, but her body no longer complied. She rose a few inches, then collapsed onto her knees again. Meanwhile, Eleanor had closed the distance. She was towering over her defeated opponent, her raised fist ready to strike her down for good. Eugene let go of Claire’s hand and jumped out of his seat. Claire hid her mouth behind her hand, not wanting to see the final strike, but unable to look away. The hammer was about to come down on Maya when, just before it was too late, the referee stepped between Eleanor and her prey.
Eleanor was sent back into her corner. She left Maya with a vicious:
“Stay down, bitch.”
Then the fight was over. Eleanor won by KO.
The crowd’s silence slowly turned back into cheers, albeit less enthusiastic ones than anybody would have predicted after Eleanor’s walkout. Eugene sat back down again. Ashley wiped sweat off her face. Victoria breathed a sigh of relief. They were all silent. And Claire wondered what the press would write tomorrow. Eleanor towering over a defeated Maya was not what the public pictured rape victims to look like in the aftermath of their assault. Claire knew that.
Eleanor was officially declared the winner. There was no hug between the fighters this time, no friendly words after the fight was over. The support for Eleanor was still overwhelming. Then a single male voice cut through the cheers.
“Liar!”
Nobody seemed to pay him any attention. Eleanor left the ring and the preparations for the next bout began.
Eugene put a hand on Claire’s shoulder and looked at her.
“Hey, um… Do you mind if Ashley and I go look after Eleanor? I’m a bit worried about her.”
Claire understood what he was saying. He wanted to check on her, Eleanor’s close friends only.
“Yeah, go. She needs you. And bring our coats when you return. I don’t think I need to watch all of the remaining fights. I’ll be back on the concourse.”
Eugene let go of her shoulder.
“Thanks. I won’t take too much time.”
Ashley looked worried too. She hugged Claire goodbye, and then both of them left.
Claire bought a coke, then she went back up to the concourse. Somehow, she felt like she could use some sugar. Her eyes were seeing the ring, but she wasn’t really following the ninth bout.
She lay her arms on the railing and rested her chin on them. She took an occasional sip from her coke while she quietly watched people leaving the field house. She had become so used to the flashing lights of the cameras that she noticed their sudden absence. She didn’t miss them.
Kickboxing was weird. That was her professional assessment of the evening. Why were humans so fascinated with violence? It was hard for her to make sense of now that she thought about. She read books, watched movies, and played games where people were punched, kicked, thrown, stabbed, and shot en masse. That was the most normal thing in the world. And she was fond of her memories watching horror movies with Jason back at her parent’s house when they had been sixteen. She didn’t consider herself to be particularly interested in violence, but it seemed to be everywhere around her.
Violence was condemned, yet thoroughly enjoyed. Whether it was fiction or sport, she wondered if these aspects of culture were, in the end, nothing more than desperate attempts to compartmentalize the uglier facets of human nature. But did it actually work? Did sport and fiction really give people a healthy outlet for their darker impulses? Hearing Maya’s ugly taunt and seeing Eleanor’s vicious response within the confines of supposedly healthy competition made her doubt that. What if these socially accepted pockets of violence didn’t compartmentalize violence, but normalize it?
“Ms. Wallace?”
Claire looked up at the deep female voice pulling her out of her thoughts. Eleanor’s mom was standing next to her and looking down at her.
“Yes, that’s me.”
Reluctantly, Claire lifted her head off her comfortable, soft arms and stood straight.
“I’m Victoria Gardner, I…”
“You’re Eleanor’s mom.”
Victoria smiled. She had taken the baseball cap off.
“Yes, that too.”
Victoria reached out her hand. Claire took it and shook it.
“May I ask you for a few minutes of your time? There is something I’d like to talk to you about.”
“Sure…”
Claire was confused. What could Victoria Gardner possibly want from her? Was she looking for models for a new collection? She doubted the CEO of White Mare was doing this kind of scouting herself. And even if she did, weren’t models supposed to be tall?
“Let’s get straight to the point then. You’re a math major in your senior year and you’re likely to graduate as valedictorian of your class, correct? What are your plans for after graduation?”
This was getting spooky. Why did Victoria Gardner know about her academic trajectory?
“Uh, yes. But how do you know that?”
Victoria leaned back against the railing and crossed her legs.
“I had my assistant look into all the people affiliated with Anthony Robertson. I’m sure you read that he and I went to high school together?”
The article that made the scandal public had mentioned that. Claire nodded.
“The truth is uglier than that. I won’t go into details, but he targeted my daughter because of me. Eleanor isn’t the only one affected by his behavior, though.”
Claire didn’t know what to say. She just waited for Victoria to continue.
“Students lost their supervisor, an employer, letters of recommendation. If I can, I’d like to mitigate the damage he’s done. Call it a whim born out of a misguided sense of responsibility. So?”
Claire was baffled by the straightforwardness of this conversation.
“So… what?”
“You haven’t answered my question yet.”
Then Claire remembered. The question about her future.
“Right, sorry. I, uhh, I was going to stay here at Riverton for my Ph.D. It’s true that Robertson wrote a letter of recommendation for me, but I know enough people here I can ask instead.”
Victoria thought for a second.
“Have you ever considered doing your Ph.D. somewhere else?”
Claire shook her head.
“Not really, no. Why do you ask?”
“Because I hate to see talent settle for mediocrity.”
How did this date with Eugene go from handholding to defending Riverton’s reputation against a fashion mogul?
“Riverton’s math department is one of the best in…”
“Was. Riverton’s math department was one of the best in the country. It was never the best. And now the man who built it is gone and the public scandal will deliver a blow to the university’s reputation in general, and the math department’s reputatation in particular. So what’s holding you here aside from sentimentality?”
Claire had no answer to a question she hadn’t even considered. Maybe she would have if her personal circumstances hadn’t overshadowed the public implications of the Robertson scandal for her.
“It’s not like there’s a lot of time left until the application deadlines. I couldn’t have known that Robertson would suddenly disappear.”
There, that was a perfectly reasonable answer as for why she couldn’t simply apply somewhere else.
“Fair enough. And that’s exactly where I can help. I can get you in contact with everybody from Princeton’s math department. That should provide you with the best letters of recommendation you can ask for. And I can make sure that they will consider your application seriously if you decide to apply.”
Claire was almost speechless.
“Yeah, uhh, that’s very kind, thanks. Um, I’ll have to think about it.”
Victoria handed Claire her business card.
“That’s my number. Please reach out once you’ve come to a decision. Don’t let your talent go to waste out of a false sense of loyalty toward Riverton.”
Claire took the card and quickly put it away. She didn’t want to know what journalists would do to her to get that number.
Victoria had no intention to bother Claire any longer.
“I’ll leave you to your date then. Goodbye, Ms. Wallace.”
Apparently, this woman even knew she was here on a date. Victoria was about to leave when Claire blurted out:
“You must be very proud of Eleanor.”
Victoria looked surprised for the first time during this whole conversation.
“What makes you say that?”
She hadn’t expected that answer. In her experience, parents usually didn’t question why they should be proud of their children.
“Eleanor being here today means a lot to so many people, especially women. To see her struggle, but also move forward, gives them hope. At least, to me it does.”
Victoria’s face softened.
“You’re right. I am very proud of her.”
Then she left.
Claire was tired, but also restless. Victoria had confronted her with a question she hadn’t asked before. Why should she stay here? Was there anything left for her? A few weeks ago, her future had been clear to her. Riverton had been her home, a place of success and fulfillment. Now it was the place where she had been raped and the mentor who was supposed to oversee her academic future was gone. So why not start anew at Princeton?
She grabbed her phone. She just had to look it up. The application deadline for Princeton. December 15. If Victoria Gardner helped her get those letters of recommendation, she could make it. Then what? She’d probably know if she was admitted sometime in February or March. After that, if she actually got in, she’d have to decide by April 15.
April 15, a little more than five months from now. But before that, she needed to decide if she wanted to apply in the first place. The 10th bout just ended. She saw Eugene coming back, carrying her coat. She ran toward him, happy to see him return. Today had been a good day.
I am not entirely sure what the numbers are good for, are they mappings to moves, or sequences of moves? If the latter that would make a fighter too predictable I think, but I am not an expert 
I can't think of anything more to say as of this writing.
