Chronicle 7
The consultation room was intentionally unremarkable.
Soft lighting.
Bookshelves.
Three comfortable chairs arranged in a loose circle.
A kettle quietly steamed on a side table.
Nothing about the room felt clinical.
That, Dr. Martin Eller suspected, was the point.
The tall Estonian smiled as Phoebe and Armintie entered
together.
"I understand you asked to be evaluated together."
Phoebe nodded.
"We don't want to be separated."
Armintie reached over and quietly took Phoebe's hand.
Eller noticed.
"I think that's perfectly reasonable."
He waited until they were seated before sitting himself.
"My name is Martin Eller."
"I'll be overseeing much of your psychological
assessment."
He smiled reassuringly.
"I'd like to begin by saying something."
Neither girl spoke.
"I don't intend to force you to relive painful
memories."
"I know some of what happened to both of you."
"I've read Dr. Idris' notes."
"I've spoken to Nurse Cornelia."
"My goal isn't to make you suffer."
He leaned forward slightly.
"My goal is to understand where the suffering
began."
The room fell quiet.
Armintie looked at Phoebe.
Phoebe nodded once.
Armintie took a slow breath.
"My father was from Mombasa."
Eller made no interruption.
"He was a merchant."
"My mother was from the mountains outside
Purushapura."
"They married."
"My father stayed."
She smiled faintly.
"I don't remember much."
"I was...five?"
"Maybe six."
"I'm not sure."
Her smile disappeared.
"There was fighting."
"My tribe was attacked."
"I remember people screaming."
"I remember running."
"I remember..."
She frowned.
"...then I don't remember."
Silence.
"I wandered."
"I was alone."
"The Blue Shield found me."
"They fed me."
"They gave me clothes."
"They let me stay."
She glanced toward Phoebe.
"Then there was her."
Phoebe smiled.
A genuine smile.
"We didn't decide to become sisters."
Armintie laughed softly.
"It just happened."
"We were always together."
"Eventually..."
She shrugged.
"...Zas just started treating me like I belonged."
"He'd introduce me as his second daughter."
Eller made another note.
"Were you happy?"
Both girls answered together.
"Yes."
The simultaneous reply surprised even them.
Armintie laughed.
Phoebe laughed too.
"For a long time."
Armintie nodded.
"We swam in the lake."
"We climbed hills."
"We explored caves."
"We'd disappear for entire afternoons."
Phoebe smiled.
"The summers were beautiful."
"They really were."
Armintie's smile slowly faded.
"Then we got older."
"What changed?"
Phoebe answered first.
"The rules."
"What rules?"
"We weren't supposed to leave."
"We weren't supposed to travel."
"We weren't supposed to talk to strangers."
"We weren't supposed to..."
She sighed.
"...do much."
Armintie nodded.
"I always wanted to know what was beyond the
mountains."
"I did too," Phoebe admitted quietly.
"So we snuck out."
Eller looked up.
"Frequently?"
Armintie smiled sheepishly.
"A little."
Phoebe looked at her.
"A little?"
"Okay."
"A lot."
"Sometimes for days."
Phoebe added:
"Sometimes for weeks."
"...and every time?"
"A search party."
Phoebe nodded.
"Every time."
"What happened when you came back?"
Phoebe hesitated.
"Punishments."
"Were you physically harmed?"
Both girls answered instantly.
"No."
The certainty in their voices caught Eller's attention.
"Never?"
Armintie shook her head.
"Never."
"Zas never hit us."
"The Elder never hit us."
"No one hit us."
Eller nodded.
"What happened instead?"
Phoebe looked toward the floor.
"We weren't allowed outside."
"No swimming."
"No exploring."
"No festivals."
"No seeing friends."
Armintie added quietly:
"We'd be ignored."
Phoebe nodded.
"They'd stop talking to us."
"People we'd known our whole lives."
"It felt like..."
She searched for the words.
"...like we disappeared."
Armintie swallowed.
"Sometimes everyone knew what we'd done."
"They'd all look at us."
"No one would say anything."
"It felt..."
She wrapped her arms around herself.
"...lonely."
Eller wrote several more notes.
"Did the punishments become more severe?"
Phoebe nodded.
"Yes. I don't know when, but I felt it."
Armintie closed her eyes.
"Zas got stricter."
"He thought he was protecting us."
"I know he did."
"...but..."
She couldn't finish.
Phoebe did it for her.
"It just made us want to leave more."
The room grew quiet again.
Eller let the silence exist.
Finally he spoke.
"Then came the bandits."
Both girls nodded.
"...and then the Council."
Another nod.
"...and Armintie's exile."
Armintie stared into the distance.
"I never thought they'd actually do it."
"Neither did I," Phoebe whispered.
"I thought..."
She laughed bitterly.
"I thought they were bluffing."
"I thought..."
Her voice broke.
"...I thought they loved us too much."
Silence settled over the room once more.
Eller closed his notebook.
Not because he was finished.
Because he wanted them to know he was listening now, not
recording.
"I have many questions about what happened after the
exile."
He smiled gently.
"...but those can wait."
He looked between the two girls.
"You've both done remarkably well today."
Neither seemed convinced.
Then Phoebe spoke.
Quietly.
"So many people keep asking if Zas hurt us."
Eller nodded.
"That's a common question."
Phoebe stared at her hands.
"Sometimes..."
She stopped.
Armintie looked at her.
Concerned.
Phoebe swallowed.
"Sometimes..."
"...I wish he had."
The room became completely still.
Eller did not interrupt.
"If he'd hit me..."
She fought back tears.
"...people would've seen bruises. They would see blood
and scars and all the marks on my body."
She looked up for the first time.
"They would've believed I was hurting."
Her voice cracked.
"...but nobody could see what was happening."
"They thought..."
She wiped her eyes.
"...they thought I had a wonderful father."
Another tear escaped.
"...and I did."
She laughed through it.
"That's what made it so confusing."
"I loved him."
"I still love him."
"I just..."
She covered her face.
"...wanted someone to see how much it hurt."
No one spoke.
Not Armintie.
Not Eller.
The silence itself became part of the therapy.
Sometimes, Dr. Martin Eller knew, the most important thing a
therapist could do...
...was simply allow the truth to exist.
Backstage was nothing like Zas had imagined.
There were no solemn warriors preparing for combat.
No chants.
No meditation.
No sacred rituals.
Instead there were extension cords.
Half-empty bottles of water.
People laughing.
Someone frantically searching for a missing boot.
A man with glitter on his face eating a sandwich.
It was chaos.
Organized chaos.
Joanna disappeared into the women's dressing room.
"I'll be right back."
Zas nodded.
He stood awkwardly near a stack of equipment cases, trying
very hard not to stare.
A production assistant hurried past carrying a clipboard.
Two young wrestlers, both wearing matching Imperial Academy
tracksuits, nervously rehearsed sequences together.
"...don't forget the comeback."
"I know."
"No, you forgot it yesterday."
"I didn't."
"You absolutely did."
One of them noticed Zas.
"You wrestling tonight?"
"No."
"You look like you could."
Before Zas could answer, they had already rushed off.
He wasn't sure what to make of this place.
It was...
Surprisingly ordinary.
No one here looked like legends.
They looked like people going to work.
The dressing room door opened.
Joanna stepped out.
Or rather-
Trinity Dark did.
Black boots.
Black and silver gear.
Her long blonde hair carefully styled.
Dark eye makeup.
A long coat draped over her shoulders.
She looked...
Magnificent.
Zas simply stared.
Joanna had expected admiration.
She had not expected...
That look.
There wasn't hunger in his eyes.
Or lust.
Or even infatuation.
There was...
Wonder.
As though he had never seen someone quite like her before.
For a brief moment Joanna forgot where she was.
The noise backstage faded.
The chatter disappeared.
Only Zas remained.
His expression was so sincere.
So utterly unguarded.
Her heart melted.
Without thinking-
She crossed the distance between them.
Wrapped her arms around him.
Held him.
Zas stiffened.
Instinct.
Training.
Years of caution.
Then-
Slowly-
He relaxed.
Not much.
Just enough.
Joanna felt it.
She didn't say anything.
Neither did he.
She simply held him.
Long enough for him to remember what it felt like.
Long enough for herself to realize he probably hadn't been
held like this in a very long time.
Eventually she stepped back.
Smiled.
"There."
"There?"
"You looked like you needed one."
Zas wasn't entirely sure she was wrong.
Joanna reached for his hand.
Again without asking.
Again without thinking.
"Come on."
She led him toward the entrance curtain.
The arena beyond was still mostly empty.
Ring crew adjusted ropes.
Referees talked quietly.
Young wrestlers stretched.
"This is rehearsal."
Zas watched silently.
Joanna smiled.
"I love this part."
"You do?"
"Yeah."
She looked toward the ring.
"I've wanted this since I was little."
She laughed softly.
"Well..."
"I wanted the television version."
She gestured around them.
"This part isn't quite as glamorous."
"No?"
"No."
They watched one of the Imperial Academy trainees miss a
cue.
A producer immediately shouted corrections.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Joanna leaned against the barricade. The façade in the arena
proudly displayed the "Combat Arts" logo, the WFE's main wrestling
division, but Joanna knew the reality of tonight's show.
"Most of tonight's card are Academy call-ups."
"They're good kids. They're just learning."
"Do you teach them?"
"Sometimes."
"Mostly I try to keep them from panicking."
Zas nodded.
That, at least, he understood.
"You know..."
Joanna looked around to make sure no producers were nearby.
"I've thought about leaving the World Fighting
Empire."
Zas turned toward her.
"The IWC."
Zas looked confused.
"The International Wresting Council...the WFE's main
competitor."
Zas finally understood.
"They've asked around. Asked me."
"Anyway, they tell stories."
"They let people actually wrestle."
"They don't just..." She sighed, remembering her
most recent storylines within the WFE.
"...put pretty women beside famous men."
She laughed bitterly.
"I've done enough bra and panties matches to last a
lifetime."
Zas frowned.
"I do not understand."
"You don't want to."
She smiled sadly.
"Let's just say sometimes I feel like management sees
me more as decoration than an athlete."
She looked toward the empty seats.
"Paul Carney over in the IWC..."
She chuckled.
"He's dramatic."
"He'll cut speeches that sound like he's auditioning
for the theatre."
"...but..."
She shrugged.
"...he actually cares."
"About the wrestlers."
She glanced around backstage.
"I'm not sure Vince does."
"To him..."
She searched for the words.
"...sometimes I think we're just resources."
Silence settled between them.
"...but I can't leave."
She smiled faintly.
"This place..."
She looked toward the ring.
"...I've dreamed about it since I was a little
girl."
"If I leave..."
"It almost feels like admitting I failed."
She laughed.
"Stupid, isn't it?"
Zas didn't answer immediately.
Instead he watched a crew member tape a loose cable to the
floor.
Another quietly adjusted a spotlight.
Everyone here seemed to be building something together.
Finally he spoke.
"I understand."
Joanna looked at him.
He continued quietly.
"There is pain in leaving home."
His voice was almost distant.
As though he were speaking to himself as much as to her.
"You spend your life believing one place is where you
belong."
"You build your identity there."
"You believe leaving means abandoning part of
yourself."
He paused.
Then looked directly at her.
"...but..."
"...sometimes leaving home is what allows you to
grow."
Joanna held his gaze.
She knew he wasn't only talking about wrestling.
He wasn't only talking about her.
Somewhere deep inside-
He had begun talking about himself.
Neither of them said another word.
From somewhere in the arena, a stage manager shouted:
"Trinity! Five minutes!"
Joanna squeezed Zas' hand once.
Then smiled.
"I guess it's showtime."
She let go.
...but somehow...
Neither of them felt quite as alone as they had that
morning.
The arena was slowly coming to life.
Music technicians tested speakers.
Lighting crews adjusted spotlights.
In the ring, two Imperial Academy trainees rehearsed the
opening sequence of a match for what had to be the tenth time.
"...again!"
The producer clapped loudly.
"You're late on the comeback!"
The trainees sighed and reset.
Near the entrance curtain—the place everyone simply called
Gorilla—two men watched the rehearsals.
One folded his arms.
The other rubbed his beard thoughtfully.
Triple X shook his head.
"She's getting better."
Daniel Miles nodded.
"She is."
"She's still got holes."
"So does everybody."
X watched another trainee stumble through a sequence.
"I'm not talking about them."
Miles smiled knowingly.
"Joanna."
X sighed.
"Joanna."
He leaned against a production crate.
"I told Vince she needed another year."
"I remember."
"I fought for six months."
Miles chuckled.
"I remember that too."
"I wanted her staying at the Academy."
"She still had timing to learn."
"Camera work."
"Pacing."
"Psychology."
"Confidence."
"All teachable."
He shrugged.
"...but Vince saw blonde hair."
"He saw a movie-star face."
"...and once Vince decides..."
Miles finished the sentence.
"...he doesn't undecide."
X laughed.
"Exactly."
Miles watched Trinity Dark's entrance video play across the
arena screens.
"She's got something."
"So much."
"The crowd likes her."
"The roster likes her."
"She wants to learn."
X nodded.
"I know."
"That's what frustrates me."
"We're trying to squeeze years of development into
weeks."
Miles folded his arms.
"I do what I can."
"I sit with her."
"We watch tape."
"We talk."
"...but there are only so many hours."
"...and Vince wants television-ready yesterday."
X sighed.
"She deserved better."
The conversation ended as they wandered deeper backstage.
They rounded a corner.
Stopped.
Both men looked in the same direction.
A tall man stood quietly beside the entrance tunnel.
Watching.
Not casually.
Intently.
Every movement in the ring seemed to hold his attention.
His posture alone made him stand out.
Straight.
Relaxed.
Alert.
Miles spoke first.
"You with the crew?"
The stranger turned.
"No."
"You wrestling?"
"No."
Triple X studied him.
"You've got the look."
The stranger seemed unconcerned.
"I am here as Joanna's guest."
"Joanna?"
"Trinity Dark."
Recognition crossed both men's faces.
"Oh."
Miles smiled.
"That explains it."
Triple X extended a hand.
"Triple X."
The stranger shook it.
"Zasaramel."
"Daniel Miles."
Another handshake.
Neither man could quite explain it.
There was something about Zas.
Presence.
The kind that couldn't be taught.
Conversation drifted naturally toward the ring.
One trainee missed a step.
Zas frowned.
"He crossed his feet."
Triple X looked at him.
"What?"
"He crossed his feet."
"He lost balance before turning."
The trainee repeated the sequence.
Again.
Zas pointed.
"There."
"He keeps exposing himself."
Miles watched carefully.
"...he does."
The producer shouted another correction.
The trainee adjusted.
This time another mistake.
"He turns his shoulders too early."
Zas observed.
"The other man knows the strike is coming."
Miles exchanged a glance with X.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
"You watch much wrestling?"
"No."
"Then how are you seeing that?"
"I teach movement."
"Movement is movement."
X couldn't help smiling.
"So..."
He folded his arms.
"You wrestle?"
"No."
"Ever?"
"No."
"No interest?"
"I do not seek glory."
X laughed.
"That's a shame."
"Why?"
"You've got exactly the kind of presence Vince
likes."
Zas answered without hesitation.
"I do not believe Vince would like me."
Miles laughed.
"That's...probably fair."
X laughed harder.
"He's not wrong."
A whistle echoed from the ring.
One of the trainees looked increasingly frustrated.
Triple X watched for another moment.
Then looked back at Zas.
"You want to come down?"
"To the ring?"
"Yeah."
"Watch up close."
"Maybe tell me what you're seeing."
Zas hesitated.
He hadn't expected that.
Miles smiled.
"Come on."
"Worst case?"
"You waste ten minutes."
"Best case..."
He shrugged.
"...I learn something."
Zas looked toward the ring again.
The trainees reset.
The producer barked another instruction.
Joanna was somewhere preparing for her own match.
Slowly-
He nodded.
"I can spare ten minutes."
Triple X smiled.
"Good."
He gestured toward the aisle leading to ringside.
"Let's see what a warrior monk thinks of professional
wrestling."
Zas frowned.
"I am not a warrior monk."
Miles laughed as they started walking.
"You keep saying that."
Neither of them sounded convinced.
The ring felt different from backstage.
Everything echoed.
Every footstep.
Every bump.
Every shouted instruction.
Brenton Hayes and Cassian Tyler reset for what had to be the
twentieth time.
"Again."
The producer sounded less patient now.
Hayes exhaled sharply.
Tyler rubbed his forehead.
They locked up.
Ran the sequence.
A leapfrog.
A shoulder tackle.
A duck-under.
Then-
They collided awkwardly.
Both men immediately threw up their hands.
"Damn it!"
"That wasn't it."
"No kidding!"
The producer slapped the apron.
"You're thinking!"
"I can see it!"
Hayes sighed.
"We know!"
"We're trying!"
"No."
The producer pointed at them.
"You're trying too hard."
Tyler shook his head.
"We know the match."
"So wrestle it!"
"We are!"
"No, you're remembering it!"
Another failed attempt.
Another frustrated groan.
Triple X folded his arms.
"They never did this at the Academy."
Daniel Miles nodded.
"They had chemistry."
"They're still there."
"They're just..."
He searched for the word.
"...tight."
Both wrestlers reset again.
Zas watched quietly.
Nobody noticed how intensely he was studying them.
Not their movements.
Their faces.
Their breathing.
Their hesitation.
Finally he spoke.
"They are afraid."
The producer turned.
"What?"
"They are afraid."
Hayes looked offended.
"We're not afraid."
Zas met his eyes.
"Yes."
"You are."
Silence.
"They know every movement."
"They know every step."
"They know every strike."
"So why do they stop?"
Nobody answered.
"They are not watching each other."
"They are watching failure."
Triple X glanced toward Miles.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
Without another word, Zas climbed onto the apron.
The producer instinctively opened his mouth.
Triple X quietly raised a hand.
Let him.
Zas stepped between the two wrestlers.
Neither Hayes nor Tyler seemed sure what to do.
"You have fought before."
Hayes nodded.
"Hundreds of times."
"You trusted each other."
"Yeah."
"You trust him now?"
Hayes looked at Tyler.
"...yeah."
Tyler answered before being asked.
"I trust him."
Zas nodded.
"Then why do you move as though you do not?"
Neither had an answer.
"You fear making mistakes."
Hayes laughed bitterly.
"You have no idea."
"The boss..."
He stopped himself.
Zas continued anyway.
"I have made mistakes."
The two wrestlers looked confused.
"Many."
"More than I can count."
He paused.
"On battlefields."
The room became noticeably quieter.
"I have missed strikes."
"I have slipped."
"I have fallen."
"I have chosen the wrong path."
"I have nearly died because of my mistakes."
Hayes swallowed.
Tyler listened without moving.
"When that happens..."
Zas continued.
"...you learn something."
"You do not have time to become angry."
"You do not have time to pity yourself."
"You recover."
"You adapt."
"You continue."
He looked at both men.
"You are still fighting the last mistake."
Hayes looked down.
Tyler did the same.
"When he misses..."
Zas pointed toward Hayes.
"...you are already thinking about it."
Then he pointed toward Tyler.
"When he hesitates..."
"...you notice."
"...and then you hesitate."
He slowly shook his head.
"You are no longer present."
"You are wrestling ghosts."
Silence.
"The crowd cannot hurt you."
"The producer cannot hurt you."
"The owner cannot hurt you."
"The last mistake cannot hurt you."
He pointed toward the center of the ring.
"Only this moment exists."
"This movement."
"This breath."
"This partner."
"Nothing else."
He stepped back.
"You already know the match."
"I can see it."
"You do not need more instruction."
"You need less."
Hayes looked at Tyler.
Tyler nodded almost imperceptibly.
The producer looked at Triple X.
Triple X shrugged.
"Run it."
The two men circled.
Locked up.
This time...
No hesitation.
No glancing toward the producer.
No anticipation of failure.
One movement naturally flowed into the next.
Shoulder tackle.
Drop down.
Leapfrog.
Hip toss.
Counter.
Everything suddenly connected.
They reached the end of the sequence.
Perfectly.
Silence.
Then Daniel Miles clapped.
Once.
Twice.
Soon the rest of ringside joined him.
Triple X smiled.
"I knew those two were still in there."
Hayes climbed through the ropes.
He looked at Zas.
"I've had coaches tell me to relax."
"I've had producers tell me to stop thinking."
"I've had veterans tell me to trust myself."
He laughed softly.
"...but..."
"I don't think anybody ever explained why."
Tyler nodded.
"I kept trying not to screw up."
He smiled.
"I wasn't trying to wrestle."
Zas simply inclined his head.
"You remembered."
Triple X looked at Daniel Miles.
Then back at Zas.
A slow grin spread across his face.
"You know..."
he said quietly,
"...Vince is going to hate this man."
Daniel Miles laughed.
"...which is exactly why I like him already."
Triple X barely had time to congratulate Brenton Hayes and
Cassian Tyler before another producer hurried over.
"X."
He sounded stressed.
"We've got another problem."
X sighed.
"Of course we do."
The producer pointed toward the opposite side of the arena.
"Trinity and Harmony."
Daniel Miles immediately understood.
"Oh no."
"They still haven't run it?"
"They've tried."
"They're a mess."
X rubbed his temples.
"Bring them out."
A few moments later Joanna emerged, now fully transformed
into Trinity Dark.
Across from her stood another young woman with sun-bleached
blonde hair, an easy smile, and the relaxed confidence of someone who had grown
up near the ocean.
Sol Harmony.
She bounced lightly on the balls of her feet as if standing
still required conscious effort.
Triple X smiled despite himself.
"In the Academy..."
he said to Zas,
"...she couldn't miss."
Daniel Miles nodded.
"The Harmony Flip."
He laughed softly.
"Half the wrestling world called it the greatest
finishing move they'd ever seen."
"It got people talking."
"It got people buying tickets."
"It got people into the Academy."
X's smile slowly disappeared.
"Then she got called up."
"...and..."
He shrugged.
"...something happened."
Harmony overheard.
"I know what happened."
She looked frustrated.
"I can't hit the stupid thing anymore."
Joanna nodded.
"It's not just you."
The producer sighed.
"Every time Vince sees it on television..."
Harmony finished the sentence.
"...he loses his mind."
"He says it looks fake."
"He says I'm late."
"He says they're waiting for me."
She laughed bitterly.
"...and then he tells me to do it faster."
Daniel Miles folded his arms.
"You two have never actually worked a proper match
together."
Joanna shook her head.
"Just rehearsals."
Harmony nodded.
"...and not many."
The producer clapped.
"Let's go."
The bell rang.
The women circled.
Locked up.
A sequence followed.
Arm drag.
Counter.
Dropkick.
Everything looked...
Fine.
Not bad.
Just...
Careful.
Harmony signaled for the finish.
Joanna ran.
Harmony leapt.
The rotation started.
Stopped.
Collapsed.
Both women landed awkwardly.
Harmony immediately threw her hands into the air.
"No."
Joanna groaned.
"I'm sorry."
"You didn't do anything."
"I think I was early."
"No, I was."
"No, I hesitated."
The producer slapped the apron.
"Again!"
They reset.
Again.
The same hesitation.
Again.
Another awkward landing.
Again.
More apologies.
Nobody was angry with the other.
They were angry with themselves.
Triple X looked toward Daniel Miles.
"It's Hayes and Tyler all over again."
Miles nodded.
"No."
He looked toward Zas.
"...it's worse."
Zas watched in silence.
Harmony wasn't watching Joanna.
She was watching the moment the move was supposed to happen.
Joanna wasn't reacting to Harmony.
She was trying to remember every instruction she'd been
given.
Neither woman trusted the other.
Not because they doubted each other.
Because they were trying to control each other.
Finally Zas stepped into the ring again.
Harmony looked confused.
"Oh."
"You're Joanna's mountain guy."
Joanna smiled.
"I told you he was observant."
Harmony laughed.
"Apparently."
Zas looked at both women.
"You have never wrestled together."
"No."
"You know your own movements."
"Yes."
"You do not know hers."
The women exchanged a glance.
"...fair."
Zas nodded.
"You are trying to predict."
"You should be responding."
Harmony frowned.
"...but the timing-"
"The timing comes from trust."
She fell silent.
"You leap before you know she is ready."
He turned toward Joanna.
"You prepare before she has committed."
Joanna slowly nodded.
"I do..."
"You are both chasing the movement."
He pointed between them.
"Instead..."
"...make the movement chase you."
Neither understood.
So Zas demonstrated.
He stood opposite Joanna.
"When I move..."
He shifted one step, preparing to grapple.
"...do not think."
"Respond."
She did.
Naturally.
Again.
Again.
Soon they were moving together without speaking.
Harmony watched.
"Oh."
Daniel Miles smiled.
She was beginning to see it.
Zas turned toward Harmony.
"You are waiting for your finish."
Harmony nodded reluctantly.
"I am."
"You should not."
"It is only another movement."
"Nothing more."
"The finish is not special."
"It becomes special because everything before it leads
there."
Harmony stared at him.
Nobody had ever explained it that way.
Triple X quietly leaned toward Miles.
"I think..."
he whispered,
"...this man accidentally understands wrestling
psychology."
Miles never took his eyes off the ring.
"I don't think it's accidental."
Harmony looked at Joanna.
"One more time?"
Joanna smiled.
"One more."
They circled.
Locked up.
The sequence flowed.
Neither counted.
Neither anticipated.
Joanna stumbled-
Not because she'd forgotten.
Because the movement naturally led there.
Harmony reacted.
She jumped.
Caught her.
Rotated.
The Harmony Flip landed cleanly.
Silence.
Then every person around ringside instinctively winced in
appreciation.
Triple X slapped the mat.
"There it is!"
Harmony rolled to her knees.
Eyes wide.
"I wasn't thinking."
Joanna pointed at her excitedly.
"Exactly!"
Daniel Miles looked toward Zas.
"You know..."
He laughed.
"I don't think Vince is going to like you either."
Zas looked genuinely puzzled.
"I have not even met him."
Triple X grinned.
"Give it time."
"I have a feeling he'll find a reason."
The successful rehearsal drew a small crowd.
Word spread quickly backstage.
"The mountain guy fixed Harmony."
"The mountain guy fixed Hayes and Tyler."
"The mountain guy knows wrestling."
That last statement finally earned a scoff.
Rodrigo Hernandez pushed through the group with an amused
grin.
He was handsome, cocky, and carried himself like someone who
had been told for years he was destined to become a star.
"So..."
He looked Zas up and down.
"You're the wrestling genius now?"
Zas shook his head.
"No."
Rodrigo laughed.
"I've heard all about you."
"You don't even watch wrestling."
"I do not."
"...but somehow you're teaching us?"
"I am trying to help."
Rodrigo folded his arms.
"I don't buy it."
Triple X watched quietly.
Daniel Miles did the same.
Rodrigo pointed toward the ring.
"Get in."
Zas frowned.
"I have no reason."
"I do."
Rodrigo climbed through the ropes.
"You keep telling everyone what they're doing
wrong."
"Show me."
Joanna immediately stepped forward.
"Rodrigo-"
He held up a hand.
"I'm not trying to hurt him."
He grinned.
"I just want to see if the mountain man can actually
wrestle."
Zas looked toward Triple X.
"Is this acceptable?"
X shrugged.
"As long as nobody gets hurt."
Miles smiled.
"I suddenly don't think that's going to be a
problem."
Zas removed his jacket.
Folded it neatly.
Placed it over the top rope.
Then climbed into the ring.
He didn't bounce.
He didn't pose.
He simply stood.
Balanced.
Relaxed.
Rodrigo circled him.
"So."
"You know any holds?"
"I know grappling."
"Same thing."
"No."
Rodrigo smirked.
"We'll see."
The bell rang.
Rodrigo immediately shot in.
Fast.
A collar-and-elbow tie-up-
Zas accepted it naturally.
Without force.
Without panic.
Rodrigo attempted to turn him.
Nothing.
He tried again.
Still nothing.
Zas simply adjusted his footing.
Triple X quietly muttered,
"...look at his base."
Miles nodded.
"He isn't fighting."
"He's feeling."
Rodrigo changed tactics.
Snapmare attempt.
Zas followed the motion.
Rolled through.
Ended up standing behind Rodrigo instead.
Rodrigo blinked.
"...okay."
The people at ringside exchanged glances.
That...
...wasn't supposed to happen.
Rodrigo charged again.
This time faster.
Drop down.
Leapfrog.
He expected confusion.
Instead Zas calmly tracked him.
Every movement.
Every shift of weight.
Every change in direction.
When Rodrigo finally reached for him-
Zas slipped just outside the line of attack.
Not dramatically.
Just enough.
Rodrigo stumbled past.
The room grew quieter.
Triple X smiled.
"He isn't reading moves."
Miles nodded.
"He's reading Rodrigo."
Again.
Rodrigo tried an arm drag.
Zas rotated with it.
Again he landed on his feet.
Again there was no wasted movement.
Rodrigo laughed.
"...you're kidding me."
"I'm trying things you've never seen."
"I have."
Rodrigo frowned.
"No you haven't."
"The techniques are different."
Zas answered calmly.
"The body is not."
The next exchange came alive.
Rodrigo stopped trying to surprise him.
Instead he reacted.
Zas reacted back.
Suddenly the match found a rhythm.
Not because Zas knew professional wrestling.
Because both men were finally listening to one another.
A wristlock became a reversal.
A reversal became a waistlock.
A waistlock became a trip.
A trip became a scramble.
Each transition flowed naturally into the next.
Nobody had called any of it.
Nobody had rehearsed any of it.
The room watched in stunned silence.
Daniel Miles laughed quietly.
"That's...really good."
Triple X nodded.
"It isn't polished."
"No."
"...but it's alive."
Rodrigo attempted a flashy spinning attack.
Zas instinctively stepped inside the rotation.
Caught Rodrigo's balance point.
Redirected him.
Rodrigo rolled across the mat.
Not because Zas overpowered him.
Because his own momentum carried him there.
Rodrigo immediately sat up laughing.
"I walked right into that."
"You committed too early."
Zas replied.
Rodrigo shook his head.
"I did."
He stood again.
The two men continued.
Professional wrestling slowly blended with practical
grappling.
Neither dominated.
Neither embarrassed the other.
Instead they created something unexpectedly compelling.
When Triple X finally called for enough, neither man looked
particularly tired.
Rodrigo extended a hand.
"You got me."
Zas accepted it.
"I learned from you as well."
Rodrigo laughed.
"I don't think so."
"I learned that people enjoy spectacle."
Rodrigo smiled.
"...fair enough."
The wrestlers applauded.
Not because Zas had defeated Rodrigo.
Because he'd done something much harder.
He had adapted.
Triple X climbed into the ring.
He looked Zas squarely in the eye.
"I wasn't joking earlier."
"If you ever decide you're done living in the
mountains..."
He looked around at the Academy wrestlers.
"...I can find a place for you."
"You'd make one hell of a coach."
Daniel Miles nodded.
"I'd fight to keep you."
Zas looked at the ring.
Then at Joanna.
Then at the young wrestlers surrounding him.
For a brief moment...
...he wondered what another life might have looked like.
Finally he inclined his head.
"Thank you."
"I will think about it."
Triple X smiled.
"I've got a feeling..."
"...that's all I needed to hear."
By the time the arena doors opened, Zas had lost all sense
of time.
Somewhere along the way, he'd stopped being "Joanna's
guest."
Without anyone formally asking, he'd become part of the
production.
One wrestler wanted advice on balance.
Another asked about striking distance.
A tag team wanted help understanding why they kept colliding
during double-team sequences.
Zas never pretended to know professional wrestling.
Whenever someone asked him something specific to the
business, he deferred to Triple X or Daniel Miles.
...but whenever the question became about movement...
...people started looking for him.
By late afternoon, several wrestlers had begun jokingly
calling him "Coach."
The title embarrassed him.
He had never considered himself anything other than an
instructor.
Yet somehow...
It fit.
Standing beside Daniel Miles in Gorilla Position, Zas
watched the opening match.
The curtain shook as the crowd roared beyond it.
Music blasted through the speakers.
Lights swept across the arena.
A producer counted down loudly.
"Thirty seconds!"
The wrestlers waiting to go out bounced nervously.
One caught Zas' eye.
"You said to breathe."
Zas nodded once.
The wrestler closed his eyes.
Breathed.
Then disappeared through the curtain.
The match unfolded.
Not perfectly.
A hesitation here.
A mistimed strike there.
...but something was different.
Instead of freezing...
...the wrestlers recovered.
Instead of apologizing to one another...
...they continued.
The audience never noticed.
Daniel Miles smiled quietly.
"They're flowing."
Triple X folded his arms.
"They're listening."
Another match.
Another.
Another.
Each one contained little pieces of the conversations Zas
had shared throughout the day.
Less hesitation.
More trust.
More reaction.
It hadn't made anyone perfect.
It had made everyone freer.
Zas found himself smiling.
A quiet sense of pride settled over him.
Not because of recognition.
Not because of praise.
Because he had helped.
It was...
Fulfilling.
Unexpectedly so.
As another entrance theme echoed through the building, a
realization slowly settled over him.
For over thirty years...
His world had been Daral Lake.
The mountains.
The lake.
The Blue Shield.
The Council.
He had convinced himself there was little else worth seeing.
Now...
In a single day...
He had met performers.
Producers.
Athletes.
Artists.
People who had dedicated their lives to something he had
barely understood that morning.
...and they had welcomed him.
Respected him.
Listened to him.
There was...
More.
So much more.
The realization should have frightened him.
Instead...
It filled him with curiosity.
Perhaps...
He wasn't ready to leave the mountains.
Not yet.
Perhaps he never would be.
...but for the first time...
He understood what life outside them felt like.
"Trinity."
Joanna turned.
Already in full gear.
Her music would play in less than two minutes.
She walked directly toward Zas.
Ignored everyone else.
Then-
Without a word-
She wrapped both arms around him.
This time the embrace was tighter.
Longer.
She rested her forehead against his shoulder.
Neither noticed the curious glances from the people around
them.
Finally Joanna spoke.
Softly.
"Thank you."
Zas looked down at her.
"For what?"
"For today."
She laughed quietly.
"...for a lot of things."
She stepped back just enough to meet his eyes.
"You believed me when I said I could be better."
She smiled.
"You didn't even know who I was."
"No one here talks to me like that."
"They tell me what I'm doing wrong."
"They tell me what Vince wants."
"They tell me to smile."
"They tell me to look prettier."
She swallowed.
"You..."
"...you taught me."
"...and..."
Her smile became almost shy.
"...you believed I could actually do it."
Zas searched for an answer.
None came.
Because the truth was...
He had believed in her.
Without ever thinking about it.
Joanna squeezed his hands.
"For the first time in..."
She laughed nervously.
"...I don't even know how long..."
"...I'm actually excited to go wrestle."
A producer shouted.
"Trinity!"
"Ninety seconds!"
Joanna looked toward the curtain.
Then back at Zas.
One last squeeze.
"I'll make you proud."
Before he could answer-
She was gone.
The music hit.
The crowd erupted.
Zas watched her disappear through the curtain.
He remained standing long after she had entered the arena.
His thoughts had drifted somewhere else entirely.
Joanna had thanked him for seeing her.
For believing in her.
Only then did he realize...
She had done the same for him.
No one here cared that he was the Blue Shield.
No one cared about the Council.
No one cared about his reputation as a stoic mountain
warrior.
Joanna had spoken to the man underneath all of that.
The father.
The teacher.
The man carrying regret.
The man who had quietly wondered whether there was room for
him anywhere else in the world.
She had somehow found him.
Without even trying.
Zas didn't know what that feeling meant.
He wasn't ready to give it a name.
He only knew one thing with certainty.
When Joanna had let go...
A part of him had wished she hadn't.
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