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Japan Karate Championship, 2013.
The roar of the crowd was a physical force, a wave crashing against the edges of the raised platform. Mai tasted sweat, gritty and salty, as she wiped it from her brow. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic drumbeat echoing the thunder in the stadium. Sensei's words, a low murmur in the chaos, barely penetrated the ringing in her ears. Focus. Breathe. Target. Easier said than done.
The referee's call sliced through the noise. "Kenka!"
Eleven years old. That's all she was. A girl, facing him, sixteen and already a veteran. But her record spoke volumes. Three junior championships. She was too good for the younger bracket, a prodigy. They couldn't afford to underestimate her.
He lunged in a blur of motion. Mai blocked, the thwack of their forearms colliding sharply in the air. A snap-kick lashed out, aimed at his ribs. He grunted, stumbling back, his eyes narrowing. He was getting tired. Good.
She pressed her advantage. A flurry of jabs, each one a calculated strike. He parried, his movements becoming sluggish. She saw her opening. A swift, low sweep – harai goshi – and his feet were gone. The sickening crack of bone echoed through the sudden hush. He landed hard on his left side.
Before anyone could react, she was on him. A precise punch to his chest. Pop. The point registered. Two-one.
But his face... it wasn't the frustration of defeat. It was agony. He didn't scream, but the way he held his arm... something was terribly wrong. His coach signaled frantically for a timeout, his face etched with worry. Medics swarmed the platform.
The next thirty minutes were a blur. Whispered conversations, the smell of antiseptic, the hushed concern of the crowd. Sensei's hand on her shoulder, his grip tight. "Calm down, Mai. Breathe." But her breath caught in her throat. She was a whirlwind, a force of nature in the dojo, but inside, she was a mess of guilt and fear. She'd seen injuries before, but this... this was different.
He never returned. The referee raised her hand. Winner. For the fourth time. But the victory felt hollow, tainted.
It was a mistake. A split-second decision, a sweep she'd executed a thousand times. But this time, it had gone wrong. Completely wrong. It had cost him his arm. His career. And it would haunt her.
Mai opened her eyes, the rough cotton of her futon against her cheek. The memories, like phantom limbs, still throbbed with a dull ache. She shifted, staring at the ceiling, the pale light of dawn filtering through the window. Meditation was supposed to bring peace, but lately, it only dredged up the past.
Her parents stood silhouetted in the doorway, their faces etched with concern. They knew that look – the haunted look.
"I know you're staring," Mai said, her voice hoarse. "It wasn't as bad today."
"Baby..." Her mother's voice was soft, laced with worry.
"I'm learning to control it," Mai insisted, forcing a smile. "Really. I'm fine."
Things were definitely not fine. They hadn't been for years. And deep down, Mai knew they wouldn't be for a long time to come.
