Eddie was never quite used to getting punched in the face. Staying on her feet after receiving a blow to the head always felt like a remarkable feat. She wasn't sure if she needed to use more chapstick or something but the mouthful of blood she spat somewhere near her was the result of a violent split lip. Eddie kept her hands up—maybe she hadn't been doing that before. Round one, Coach had told her she needed to. What round were they in now? Two? Three?
Parker was an out-boxer. Her height helped with that. It worked to her advantage against Eddie. Most of the fighters who beat Parker were taller than her. Eddie was a rare case of good luck and a bad day—at least, that's what she told herself.
When it came to fighting, Eddie never did it with anger. (Spare a lapse in judgement that involved Giovanni Perez and his nose.) She always found boxing intriguing. From the first time August had shown her Million Dollar Baby. Eddie was obsessed with it. The footwork, the workouts, the different fighting styles, the strategy. When August conjured up enough change from a shitty waitress job to get her her first pair of boxing gloves for her 16th birthday, Eddie had never felt so much excitement. It was like she found her path in the dark. Like the light came on at the end of the tunnel.
Jab. Right to the fucking eye.
Eddie needed to focus.
When she was little, Eddie's dad tried to teach her how to ballroom dance. Her feet on his, him guiding the petite two-step across the living room rug while Tchaikovsky's Nutcracker Ballet played in the background on the busted record player her parents took with them when they left. Boxing felt like that. A ballroom dance that ended in pain.
Most of Eddie's life was proving she would not be backed into a corner; Parker had done exactly what to her. Eddie held her hands up in defense. Surely Coach was yelling at her to get out; something that was much easier said than done. Parker crossed and jabbed at her ribs. Elbows tight against her body, the only defense Eddie had while she looked for an opening on Parker's guard.
And boom.
Eddie swung an uppercut and knocked Parker back a couple steps. Enough to get her off the ropes. That's what she needed. The dance continued. Parker and Eddie's fighting styles antagonized each other a little too well. Where Parker used her height to attack from a farther range, Eddie's pressure fighting ensured she was close in, her lack of height didn't matter close up.
Eddie must've had a shiner because after round two, the referee checked her eyesight. She was fine. She was always fine. She'd always make sure she was fine. The referee cleared her quickly. The fight went to round three.
"You need to finish this, kid." Coach always said that. Finish this. Like Eddie hadn't been trying to. Like she could snap her fingers and win. "You've got this. Get on the inside and get your win. Kick some ass."
There was no part of Eddie that wanted to go to round four. Bathed in sweat, body aching. Parker was bloody. Tired. Eddie could tell from across the ring while Coach tried to talk on deaf ears and a trainer tried to ice her eye with a freezing metal plate. She knew what she had to do.
Any pre-fight jitters were gone. Eddie wanted to fucking win. There always came a point in a match where any performance anxiety that she previously felt went away: that was what round three felt like. Her ribs ached with each breath but there was a determination in her belly that felt like fire. Like she'd lit a match inside and stomach acid was replaced with kerosene and there was nothing to extinguish the flames.
The punches she threw were fiercer than the rounds before. Feet moved faster. Eddie dodged almost everything Parker threw at her. She felt fucking untouchable. Miraculous. Powerful. Any blows Parker landed were shaken off. One punch was given two in return. There was no denying Parker was starting to falter. Jabs and crosses became easier to block. Guards were dropped. There came a point in many fights that Eddie had lost where she felt like giving up. Kept her hands up in hope the bell would ring but ultimately her footsteps wavered and her knees felt like collapsing and she made more mistakes than she normally would and it sometimes ended up with someone waving ammonia salt under her nose to wake her up while the crowd cheered for her opponent. Defeat takes over an entire body like an eternal flame has been blown out and suddenly the world is cloaked in darkness.
Eddie didn't want to feel the darkness.
Life didn't exist outside the ring when Eddie was in it. It was her and Parker. A glimpse of a referee in her peripheral barely mattered—in fact, they didn't matter. If Eddie's best behaviour was winning this fight and proving she deserved to fight for the title, that was what she was going to do.
Parker's guard slipped. Fucking showtime.
Eddie ducked inside her reach, guarding herself from an uppercut that would knock her backwards. It was easier than it should've been to get Parker on the ropes. And Eddie threw punches like her life depended on it. Parker got a couple in, but nothing could deter Eddie—every jab was weaker than the last. Round three Eddie was a different boxer than the other two rounds were. This boxer wasn't going to go to a fourth round.
Boom.
Parker slumped against the ropes. Tried to find her footing. Fell to the floor of the ring. Buckled. Eddie stepped away. Watched. Waited. Paced. The referee crowded Parker, and those seconds felt like hours. The counting was in slow motion.
They stood up and took Eddie's wrist in their hand, raising it above her head. And, oh, how the crowd cheered. Eddie threw her other hand up. Ran over to the ropes to hug Coach as he ducked into the ring. Spat her mouthguard to the bucket at the side of the ring and raised her arms again, looking out to the crowd. Electrified.
If every crowd cheered for her like this one did, there wasn't anything she couldn't do.
She turned to make sure they got to Parker okay, walked over and tapped their mitts together. "Good fight!" she called over the crowd.
Parker nodded. Eddie'd been punched in the head enough times to know sometimes that's all that could be managed. No hard feelings. Her team led Parker out of the ring so Eddie could celebrate.
It was all too easy, this time, to drown out Giovanni Perez. This time, she didn't care what he had to say.
*
"I made friends and they want to meet you, you decent?"
Eddie turned to see Axel with his hand over his eyes. Spare the ice pack she was currently holding to her eye, she felt pretty good, all things considered. Had yet to change out of her uniform, though. Then again, if she was changing, it wasn't anything he hadn't already seen. "You can look. Before you walk into a wall, or something."
"I'm not that clumsy." Axel obliged. "That was a good fight."
"Thank you."
"Want to see what you looked like?" Axel tilted his camera a little in her direction. The strap was wrapped around his wrist loosely, stressful for anyone else, but he seemed confident in his ability to hold onto it.
Eddie chuckled a little. "I'll see it next time they decide to hate me."
"That's pretty depressing for someone who just won undisputed."
"Yeah, well," Eddie said. She lazily fingered through a bin one of the promoters had dropped off with her—leftover promotional t-shirts if she wanted to keep any, otherwise they were bound to end up in Good Will somewhere. She considered tossing one over her uniform but hadn't stopped sweating yet. "Welcome to womanhood. Would you like a t-shirt?"
"Womanhood sucks." Axel shrugged. "And yes. Obviously."
Eddie checked the tag on the one in her hand. "Extra-small, right?"
"It's medium and you know it."
She gave him a cheeky smile and tossed the shirt at him. He threw it over his shoulder. "Who are your friends? Tell them to come on in."
Axel walked to the door and poked his head out of the changeroom. Gave a small wave. Walked back in without anyone.
"Are the friends in the room with—"
Eddie knew about Maverick and Everleigh, but hadn't the faintest about the other two who walked into the room. All four of them had on the lanyards that had been sticking out of Axel's back pocket before the fight.
"Akuma, my friends." Axel waved his hand toward the new couple. Pointed at them, respectively, as he said their names. "Moxie and Cruella. Voila."
"You were incredible wow," Cruella said. (Blonde and beautiful and if she hadn't been with someone else, Eddie probably would've tried her hand at flirting. Post-fight it usually worked whenever she went to a gay bar with a shiner. Lesbians and bisexuals alike were all for it.) "It's such an honour to meet you! Congrats!"
Eddie smiled through the icing of her eye. "Great to meet you, and thank you so much! I hope you guys had a good time!"
Everleigh was significantly less enthusiastic than Cruella was. Looked a little green. "Right. Great job. Proud of you." She held up three fingers. "Quick question, how many fingers am I holding up?"
Eddie couldn't help herself. "Which eye do you want me to use—"
Everleigh all but ducked behind Maverick. Would've been a significant feat to hide behind someone who was three feet shorter than her.
"Kidding." Probably didn't help that Eddie's 15 minutes of icing were up. She tossed the ice on a nearby seat. "The medical attendant already cleared me. Three. Does that help?"
"No." At least she was truthful. Everleigh wouldn't look at Eddie longer than she had to.
"Thought she was going to pull out her homework just to look somewhere else," Moxie said. (Also, wow. Sweet Jesus.)
"What are you studying for?" Cruella asked.
"Just started my doctorate of nursing practice." Everleigh held Maverick's arm like if she didn't, she was going to keel over.
"Nice," Cruella said. "Mox, if I knew you and all of your friends were this cool and talented, I would've ran into you sooner."
"I'm just the resident nepo baby. They're the cool self-made ones." Moxie looked at Eddie—who tore herself away from looking at a visibly uncomfortable Axel Canterbury. "Do those things last long?"
Eddie shrugged. It was kind of par for the course to come out of a fight a little ragged looking. "About a week. Not that bad."
"Unless it's fractured." Eddie kind of wished she'd put some makeup on before Everleigh came in. She felt bad how sick the other woman looked. It probably wasn't easy seeing Eddie and Parker go after each other when she knew too much about the injuries they'd sustained.
"No nurse-splaining," Maverick said.
"At least you pull it off," Moxie said to Eddie.
Cruella nodded.
Eddie laughed. "Flattery will get you somewhere." She grabbed a couple shirts from the box the promoter had left behind and tossed one each to Moxie, Cruella, and Maverick. Everleigh could easily get one if she didn't look like she was about to vomit. Eddie figured the other woman needed no reminder she had attended the night. "Here. Thanks for coming."
"Do you have any plans after this?" Cruella asked. "Besides icing that thing or something. Would love to buy you a drink and pick your brain a little if you're not too tired."
(Eddie tried her best not to smirk a little at the way Moxie stared at Cruella.) (Like she was a light rain after a drought and Moxie was willing to drown, to flood, if it meant she could see her every moment until the end—be covered in her until death would they part.)
"Oh, uh, we—I was going to—" Maybe it was presumptuous of Eddie to think that her hotel room was her and Axel's for the night. She was beat to shit, after all. Passed concussion syndrome but there was no doubt her lip was not right for kissing, or other.
Axel fought a little smile while the rest of the room's eyes were on Eddie. He gave her a little shrug, a nod.
"—I'd love to." Eddie let her eyes fall back on Cruella. "Drinks are on me, don't worry."
"Absolutely not but sounds good," Cruella said. "There's this cool place I went to before. Nice and lowkey."
"Leigh?" Moxie asked. A millennial pause before: "And... Mav?"
Maverick looked at Everleigh, who was white-knuckling his arm. "I think we might tuck in for the night, but you guys have fun. Congratulations, Yamaguchi. Well done."
"Congrats. Yeah." (Was Eddie imagining the gag Everleigh fought or was that real?)
"Thank you," Eddie said. "Enjoy your night."
Somehow, Maverick freed his arm from Everleigh's grip and delicately placed his hands on her shoulders. Steered her out of the changeroom and kept her knees from buckling. Her calm in a storm. Her gentle breeze on treacherous seas. A north star poking out in a cloak of clouded darkness.
"Do we have time for me to take a quick shower?" Eddie asked. She made a mental note to try and check in with Maverick about Everleigh later. Should've probably considered the fact that watching a fight might send a nurse to the cardiac ward for fear of a heart attack. Eddie wasn't sure if telling her how the body goes numb at a point during the fight—hopped up on adrenaline, not a care in the world—would help her mental state or make her legitimately throw up.
"Yeah," Cruella said. "I'm gonna steal Axel while you're gone so he can show me those pics. Take as long as you need. We'll wait around."
*
The shower didn't take long. A post-fight cigarette was a craving Eddie never quite shook. As she walked through the halls of the stadium, Eddie tapped knuckles with and high-fived a few stragglers in the promo team. Received congratulations and whistles and encouragement. Nothing like the team that watched her leave the last fight she had. Nothing like the stares as police walked her to a squad car.
"Miss Yamaguchi."
Eddie stopped. That voice would haunt her for the rest of her days. If she walked away, she lost. But if she stayed... She turned around against her will. Cleared her throat. "Giovanni."
"Tried to talk to you before your fight," Giovanni said. He did up the button on his suit jacket—overdressed for announcing a fight—and stuck his hands in his pockets. Ensuring that Eddie could see the Rolex on his wrist. "Your coach interrupted me."
Eddie swallowed hard. "What did you want to say?"
"Watch where you put your fists this match." Giovanni paused before letting out an obnoxious laugh that was clearly forced. He patted her on the shoulder like they were old chums, like they had a history of enjoying the other's presence. "Kidding, of course."
"Of course." Eddie grunted stiffly.
"I wanted to see if you wanted to come on my podcast."
"Why?"
"So you could, you know," Giovanni said, "make peace. Apologize."
Eddie couldn't breathe with the hitch in her throat, her chest heated up. "Pardon?"
"I read that little interview—"
(Eddie bit her tongue to keep from saying something about how she thought he was illiterate.) (Best behaviour and all.)
"Thought you'd want a second chance to apologize."
Eddie looked around for cameras. Something to prove this was a joke. "Excuse me?"
"Are you deaf?" Giovanni scoffed out a laugh that made Eddie want to punch him again. "I think you owe me an apology. Thought you'd want to do it publicly, Ms. Yamaguchi. Eddie, if I may."
"You may not."
Giovanni tutted his tongue. "What makes women so hostile?"
"Hostile?"
"Aggressive. Confrontational. Pugnacious," Giovanni said. "Militant. Belligerent. Unfriendly. Take your pick, Miss Yamaguchi."
"Forgive me—" Eddie bowed sarcastically. "—I didn't realize I was in the presence of a walking thesaurus."
"Deflective." Giovanni arched an eyebrow. "Interesting. Should've used that in your fight to prevent—" He wagged a finger in her direction and she wanted to smack it away. "—that."
"How's your nose?" Eddie asked.
Giovanni laughed again. Smug. "You know, it's interesting. I offered you a chance. An olive branch. Most people would've taken it without a second thought. But you? How dare anyone critique the great Eddie Yamaguchi? How dare she admit fault?"
Eddie tucked her fists into her pockets before she did something she regretted. "I've already admitted I regret letting you get to me."
"And yet the result of physical violence?" Giovanni asked. "You're lucky it wasn't broken. I would've sued."
"I'd pay you every penny I have if I needed to."
"Instead of an apology?"
"Instead of speaking to you in general."
"Touchy." Giovanni waved his hands. "Her name's in shining lights. She's a role model. Yet she can't bring herself to say a simple apology? Young girls everywhere are learning to be little bitches, just like the women they admire."
"And there's a fuck ton of little incels who enjoy your podcast where you spew bullshit to make a dime," Eddie said. "I'd rather a girl punch an asshole in the face who deserves it than have a bunch of little boys learn from someone who never grew out of his playground days."
"Everything okay here?" A security guard had their hand on the taser the stadium equipped them with. Oh, the things they could do.
"We're fine," Giovanni said. "Aren't we, little girl?"
"Peachy," Eddie said. "Thanks."
The security guard didn't look convinced, but there wasn't much they could do if nobody was willing to antagonize the other. They walked away after a moment.
"Listen up, you little shit—" Eddie said. She poked her finger into his chest.
"No, you listen here, and listen good—" Giovanni took her wrist in his hand. Eddie broke his grip as quickly. "—I won't rest until you are buried like a child star who never became everything mommy and daddy wanted them to be. Touch me again and I will get a restraining order slapped on your ass so fast it'll be like the quickness you bring someone up to that shitty little apartment of yours. You keep spewing rhetoric about how I need to act, and I'll publish every photo of you I have in that apartment, fucking whoever comes in there, until you are begging me to stop, do you understand?"
Eddie wanted to walk away, but her feet felt like the cement underneath them had sunk her soles and trapped her there. "Is that a threat—"
"That's a god damn promise, little girl." Giovanni straightened his suit jacket. Pressed out wrinkles with his palms. "Smarten the fuck up."
Eddie ground her teeth together for a moment. Clenched her fists at her sides. Took a deep breath before she spoke again. Started to count to ten in her head before she realized, at seven, that exercise was not for talking to Giovanni fucking Perez. "It must be hard being so small in life that you need to use others to gain an audience. I pity you, really. You're welcome for putting you on the map."
"I'll be a landmark long after you're gone," Giovanni said. "Have fun the rest of your time in New Orleans, Miss Yamaguchi. Try not to fuck around with anyone while you're here. Change it up a bit if you can. It's getting boring."
"Scum of the earth is pretty tired, too," Eddie said. "Have a safe flight back to the sewer."
"Bitch," Giovanni muttered under his breath. Too loud to be anything other than a ridiculous attempt at getting the last word in. He walked away. Too much of a strut in his step.
Eddie needed a cigarette. The contemplation of punching the brick wall beside her would've given too much satisfaction to Giovanni. Would've broken her god damn hand.
She let her fingertips trail along the wall as she made her way to the closest exit door. Her footsteps felt heavy but she forced herself to continue walking. Nobody would get the pleasure of beating her—especially not Giovanni Perez. The sound of the latch on the door was deafening. Eddie let it close behind her and unleashed a loud sigh into the New Orleans night air. She pulled a cigarette from her pocket, placed it in her mouth, and started searching for her lighter—prayed she hadn't left it inside, cursed her lip for hurting as she tried to keep her cigarette from falling.
"You too?" Eddie hoped she didn't look as startled as the voice had made her feel. A few steps from the door was Moxie, also smoking a cigarette. Also looking dejected. Birds of a feather. "Need a light?"
"God, yeah, please." Eddie gave up the search. Decided the stadium could keep her lighter, it was a cheap gas station one anyway. "Thank you."
Moxie and Eddie met in the middle and the former lit the latter's cigarette, both of them using a hand to shield the flame from any stray winds looking to cause a fuss. Like they should've been able to shield themselves from the world. "Are you sure that's—" Moxie motioned to Eddie's lip. "—alright?"
Eddie could practically hear Everleigh screaming in the distance and telling her how bad cigarettes were in general, let alone with an open wound. She took a deep breath in and blew the smoke out the opposite side of her mouth than where Parker had punched her. "Is it worrisome if I say it's never stopped me before?"
"Mildly," Moxie said. "But I'm not an athlete so I've never been pressured to, you know, push my body to the limit sort of thing."
"Pushed through similar things on stage, though, I bet." Eddie shook of Moxie's concern. "It should be fine. Thank you for checking."
"Afraid I can't offer much help on the sneaking away to smoke front, though."
"If it's not my place, you can say so. But I can't imagine you'd be out here if you were okay..." Eddie started. Anything to forget about Giovanni. Anything. "So. So. Here if you want to talk. Will buy you a drink at the bar if you don't."
"I don't know, I think if a man bothers a woman, a man should be the one to make up for it." Eddie must've looked like she'd stepped in dog shit because Moxie changed the subject almost immediately. "How's Axel's photography gig going?"
"Ha, well." Eddie debated the real answer. "He's in a little bit of shit for being the only one to not submit photos of my... reason for suspension. I'm sure tonight was fine. I was advised to be on my best behaviour, after all."
"Volunteering tonight's on Axel, then. Celebrating his new gig," Moxie said. She took a long pull from her cigarette. "Bash told me about the whole suspension thing. It's bullshit. Men get away with murder and we have to apologize for wanting to be treated as equal. You didn't deserve that. You definitely deserve better than to have that asshole announcing your fight tonight."
Eddie could've kissed her for that one. But the words were too... real. Maybe they needed to start screening people who came into the arenas. No asshole personality types within 500 feet. "Yeah, well. Guess that's how it works. Unfair, but... What else is new? You need someone to punch unnamed annoying man number 2300, just let me know. Good behaviour voucher was for tonight only. I'm sorry you guys had to go through it too."
"There's a couple people who could get their lights knocked out and I wouldn't bat an eye but I'm trying to not let them get to me," Moxie said. "It gets tired of tiring, you know?"
"Yeah." Eddie kicked at a rock on the ground. If only something that small could change the universe. "I know. Wish we could do something more about it."
"We should probably consider preventing lung cancer so maybe that'll keep us busy from worrying about all that other stuff," Moxie said. Actively taking another drag.
Eddie knew the feeling. Copying was the sincerest form of flattery. She blew the smoke out as she stomped the cigarette into the ground. Ground it like it was her foot on Giovanni's throat. "You're probably right. Do you know where the other two are?"
"Honestly, no idea." So Moxie got the hell out of dodge as fast as she could. Eddie respected it. "Last I saw, he was running to grab his laptop. We should probably go find them."
The lovely thing about exit doors was that they had no handles to lead them back inside. The walk around to the front was quiet, but not in a way that felt uncomfortable. Moxie and Eddie both had their hands tucked into their jackets, both lamenting over society's inability to hold men accountable for their actions.
They found the other part of their group ringside, giggling at Axel's laptop screen like they were childhood friends and hadn't only met each other an hour or two before.
"At least they're having a good time," Moxie said.
"Glad someone is." Eddie's voice was a little too far away. Embarrassing. Lost in that man's stupid smile and the way he threw his head back when he laughed. Like his entire face wanted to make sure the world knew he was laughing wholeheartedly.
Moxie and Eddie walked up, unnoticed by the other two.
"Got any good shots?" Moxie asked.
Would've thought she was a serial killer the way the two jumped. Axel screamed. The janitors cleaning up the stadium probably hated them more than they hated themselves.
"Fucking hell," Cruella said, "where did you two come from?"
"The rafters," Eddie said, "of course."
"They wouldn't let me go on the catwalk—" Axel stopped himself. Rolled his eyes at his gullibility. "You're kidding, aren't you?"
Eddie fought a small laugh. "We just walked in, my guy."
"Not that either of you would've noticed," Moxie said.
"Axel was showing me something." A sneaking smile creeped onto Cruella's perfectly plump lips.
"Care to share with the class?" Eddie asked.
Axel and Cruella exchanged looks and laughed.
"Maybe after editing. They're not ready for the final presentation," Axel said, as he typed vigorously. The loud buzz from Cruella's phone was hardly subtle.
"This is why I don't trust men," Moxie said.
"I respect that," Axel said.
"I'm not sure she cares if you do or not—" Eddie said.
"Axel, remember when you said you'd buy us drinks?" Moxie asked. "Let's go get some."
Axel stared at the floor, trying to see if it would give him the answer he was looking for. Dearest lord of the floor, remind me when I said that when I can't afford a dining room table, please? "... Sure. Let's go... girls."