The humid Tokyo afternoon seaped into every crack in their skin like a damp towel as Lena and her mother walked toward Suzuki Gym.
It had been only a day since that humiliating meeting with Kaito.
Lena marched with her gym bag slung over one powerful shoulder, her jaw set like tight grip as if she was grip-fighting her own teeth.
She wore a plain black t-shirt and dark training shorts that hugged her muscular thighs, her brown hair already pulled into a tight, no-nonsense ponytail.
Every step screamed anger and frustration.
Her mother walked beside her in comfortable workout leggings and a loose athletic top, carrying her own smaller bag, clearly intending to use the gym's machines while her daughter trained.
"I still can't believe you did that," Lena finally snapped, voice low and sharp. "Stop butting into my training like that, Mom. You had no right to force this whole thing with Kaito without even asking me."
Elena sighed, adjusting the strap of her bag.
"Lena, why waste an opportunity like this? The boy is clearly talented—wrestling, boxing, he's right there at the gym you're already using. It's a good chance to get better."
Get better. Get better. Get better.
The words looped in Lena's head like a broken record, each repetition tightening the knot in her chest.
She could feel her pulse hammering in her temples, the familiar heat of anger rising behind her eyes.
"I don't need to be better!" she burst out, stopping abruptly on the sidewalk. A salaryman walking past glanced at them curiously before hurrying on.
"I need to win! This is the most important thing in my life, Mom—the Worlds! It's everything I've worked for since I was a kid. Just stop getting in my face and let me do my thing!"
Without waiting for a reply, Lena sped up, her long athletic legs eating up the distance.
She broke into a light jog, leaving her mother behind on the humid street.
The gym's familiar sign came into view sooner than she wanted, the sliding doors giving cool air and the scent of tatami.
She didn't look back.
Inside the gym, the atmosphere greeted her like an old rival—thick with sweat, polished wood, and the soft thud of bodies hitting mats.
Lena kept her head down and headed straight for the girls' changing room.
The small, tiled space was quiet except for the distant hum of the air conditioning and the drip of a faucet.
Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead like a huge beam of light pointing directlyat her as if she was being accused of some evil deed.
Lena dropped her bag on the bench with more force than necessary and began changing.
She slipped into her crisp white judogi, the fabric cool against her heated skin.
Her fingers worked the black belt with practiced precision, tying it into a tight, symmetrical knot.
She stared at herself in the small mirror—broad shoulders, strong arms, clenched jaw.
The girl looking back looked ready for war.
The door opened behind her.
Elena stepped in, cheeks still flushed from the walk and the argument.
She closed the door with a soft click and crossed her arms.
"Why are you so against this?" her mother asked, voice tight with contained rage. "Why do you always explode out of nowhere? You can't keep your emotions in check like this, Lena. It's not healthy."
Lena spun around, eyes blazing. "Yes, I can! Can you stop being so pushy? I have better things to do than waste my time arguing with you!"
Elena's face hardened. The lines around her eyes—etched deeper by years of single parenting and the pain of her ex-husband's betrayal—tightened.
"Do you think I dragged my ass all the way here to Japan for this? You think I won't beat some sense into that disrespectful head of yours?"
Lena lifted her chin, defiant, her eyes cold as ice.
"Go do it then! If it makes you feel better, hit me. Go on. I've been hit harder on the mat."
For a heartbeat, silence stretched between them, thick and deadly with years of miscommunication.
Then Elena's hand flashed out in a sharp, stinging slap across Lena's left cheek.
The sound cracked through the changing room like a whip.
"You ungrateful child!" her mother hissed, voice shaking with a mix of anger and hurt. "I do everything for you—move across the world, support your dream, put up with your walls—and you act like a big stupid wall! That pride of yours is going to make you lose on that mat one day, Lena. Mark my words."
Lena didn't flinch. She didn't raise a hand to her burning cheek.
She simply stood there, chest heaving, the red imprint of her mother's palm already blooming across her fair skin.
The slap echoed in her ears.
Everything felt too tight—her gi, her skin, the pressure crushing down on her ribs.
She said nothing.
Instead, Lena huffed sharply through her nose, turned on her heel, and pushed open the changing room door.
Her bare feet padded across the cool wooden floor toward the blue tatami mats.
The faint sting on her cheek lingered, a hot reminder she tried to shove deep down where it couldn't distract her.
Kaito was already waiting near the edge of the main mat, stretching his shoulders in his black rash guard and shorts.
The fading bruise on his cheek was barely noticeable now. He spotted her and offered that easy, fluid smile—the one that somehow managed to irritate and intrigue her at the same time.
Lena forced her expression into neutral, though her heart still hammered from the fight with her mother.
She stepped onto the mat, bowing formally, the black belt at her waist feeling tighter than usual.
Behind her, in the now-empty changing room, Elena stood alone.
She rubbed her stinging palm with her other hand, groaning softly as the anger drained away and left only exhaustion and regret in its wake.
She leaned against the locker, eyes closed, breathing through the heavy silence.