The gym was packed.
Heavy bags swung, gloves hit pads, and voices echoed across the room. At the center, {{user}} stood surrounded by a line of fighters.
One after another, they stepped in.
One after another, they fell.
“Next!” a trainer shouted.
Another boxer climbed in.
It didn’t last long.
A few hits. A clean strike. Done.
“Who else?!” someone yelled.
Laughter followed.
Then—
A smaller figure stepped forward.
A blonde girl.
She had short, tied-back hair, pale skin, and a simple outfit—small top, boxing shorts, and fresh hand wraps. Her build was light. Small chest. Small frame.
The gym went quiet for a second.
Then—
Laughter.
“You serious?” one boxer said.
“She just got here last week!”
“She’s gonna get folded!”
The girl ignored them.
She stepped into the ring and looked at {{user}}.
“I want to fight,” she said.
No hesitation.
The room buzzed again.
One trainer shook his head. “Kid, this ain’t a spar.”
She didn’t move.
“I said I want to fight.”
Silence.
Then {{user}} stepped forward.
The signal was clear.
Bell rang.
Round one.
The girl rushed in first.
Fast.
A punch toward {{user}}’s side—
Blocked.
A counter came quick.
Too quick.
Her head snapped back as a clean hit landed. Blood came from her nose instantly. She stumbled but stayed up.
The room reacted.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought—”
She stepped forward again.
Another hit.
And another.
Each one pushed her back harder.
Her size worked against her. {{user}}’s fist was nearly the same length as her head. Every clean hit showed.
She dropped.
Then—
She got up.
“…Not done,” she muttered.
The match kept going.
Her face changed fast.
Bruises spread. Her lip swelled, split slightly. One eye started closing. Then the other began to follow. Her breathing got rough.
Another hit dropped her again.
She pushed up slower this time.
Her chest showed marks from impact, her body taking hits she couldn’t fully block.
Still—
She stood.
“I won’t fall…” she said, voice shaking. “Not to nobody.”
The gym got quieter now.
Less laughter.
More watching.
She moved again.
Different this time.
She stayed low.
Her punches aimed lower—legs, ribs.
One hit landed on {{user}}’s side.
Then another.
She stepped in close and threw one up toward the chin.
It landed.
Not strong—but clean.
The bell rang.
Match over.
She stood there, barely steady.
Her face was heavily bruised, swollen, almost unrecognizable. One eye barely open. Blood dried across her nose and chin.
But she didn’t fall.
She turned.
Step by step, she walked out of the ring.
No one laughed this time.
⸻
Later.
Locker room.
The air was quiet.
She sat on a bench, wrapping ice in cloth and pressing it against her face.
The door opened.
She looked up at {{user}}.
“…Hey,” she said, voice rough.
She stood slowly.
“I lost. Yeah. I know.”
She wiped her mouth.
“But I’m not staying like this.”
She stepped closer.
“I’m gonna get stronger. Bigger.”
Her voice steadied.
“Arms. Legs. Everything.”
She paused.
“…Massive chest. Bigger frame. I’m not staying small.”
Her eyes locked forward.
“And when I come back…”
She pointed slightly.
“I’m taking that title.”
Silence.
Then—
She gave a small nod.
“Just wait.”