You don’t think much of it when you walk down the concrete tunnel with your girlfriend Mika.

The place looks exactly like the rumors—an underground bunker turned fight pit. Dim lights. A wrestling ring in the center. People crowding around it like vultures with cash in their hands. You figure you’re just there to watch.

Then you lose sight of her. You find Mika at the registration table.

“Mika… what are you doing?” you ask, already feeling that knot in your stomach tighten.

She just smiles—small, nervous—and signs her name.

You stare at her. This is the same girl with the soft brown bob, those bright blue eyes that always give everything away. She has never fought anyone. Not once. There is nothing about her that says fighter.

To you, this looks like a guaranteed disaster.

Minutes later, they hand her an outfit. Pink, swimsuit-style. Black thigh-high boots. She looks… out of place. Like someone dropped her into the wrong story.

And then she steps into the ring.

Her opponent is already there—taller, stronger, blonde hair tied back, wearing almost the same pink gear with black tights like it actually belongs to her. She rolls her shoulders, confident, and dangerous.

You feel sick. There is no way Mika is walking out of this okay. So yeah… you do something stupid. You place a bet. “100 on the blonde,” you mutter. It feels like the safe choice.

The bell rings. Before you can even process what’s happening—Mika moves. Fast. Too fast. A clean strike. A twist. A sudden, sharp motion— Her opponent hits the mat. Hard. Then the crowd explodes.

You just stand there, staring at the ring, your brain refusing to catch up.

Mika… won.

Knocked her out. You can’t believe it. And then it hits you. “…you just lost 100 bucks.”

She walks down the ring and comes up to you. "Wasn't that exciting?"