Passive Aggressive

In an interview, the number one female fighter sits down after her flawless victory against a promising opponent.

The interviewers repeatedly congratulate her on her achievement and ask her the basic questions—nothing new or interesting at all.

One reporter, though, asks her an interesting question. "I couldn't help but notice your expression during the fight. It was stone straight, with zero emotion. I heard the announcer comment on your laser focus, but looking at it again, I think it was a look of boredom.

"So my question is, are you bored and tired of the competition? Early in your career, you swept every female fighter in the way, and when you joined the co-ed league, you still went undefeated.

"The closest you came to a loss was your split decision victory over the pound-for-pound best male fighter. And even that was met with scrutiny as you clearly dominated that fight. Is this becoming more of a workout for you than a competition?" the reporter finally concludes.

The fighter sits silent for a second before smiling. "Wow. Uhm, kudos to you for catching that. The truth of the matter is I am bored. I haven't sensed the thrill or that danger in a fight for a long time.

"It sucks because there are a ton of things I can do, but I love fighting. It's in my DNA. I was bred and born for this, but I'm at a point now where my love is lacking passion. I feel as if I am going through movements at speeds that rival turtles.

"This is no offense to anyone I have fought in the past, they are all good fighters, but I haven't felt the fear of losing in so long that, yes, I have grown bored." the fighter admits.

The interviewers are all scribbling and taking notes, as this bombshell of insight from the champion has them all mind-blown.

The champion thanks everyone for their time, gets up, and leaves the building.

As she leaves, someone asks if she thinks she can beat Diablo. "Who is that?" she asks without breaking stride.

Getting into the backseat of her vehicle, the interviewer who asked her the one good question catches her before the truck pulls off.

She rolls down the window. "I'm sorry, but I don't feel like answering any more questions right now. Here is my agent's card if you would like to schedule an interview, " she tells him.

The reporter accepts the card. "Thank you, ma'am. I certainly will try to schedule a follow-up. But I wanted to catch you before you left because you forgot this at the table, " he says, handing her her trophy.

Her eyes stare at it blankly before she reluctantly grabs it. "Thank you, " she replies as the car pulls away from the cameras and paparazzi.

While driving home, she pulls out her phone and looks up this Diablo the reporter asked her about. Reading the article, her eyes grow wide as she catches up on the news.

The next day, the fighter stands outside in her beautiful mansion yard with her eyes closed.

"By all means, keep enjoying the view of my ass for as long as you like," she says to the 10 fighters who cautiously stand behind her.

After 30 seconds, no one has still made a move. The fighter lets out a disappointed sigh. At the clap of her hands, 10 more fighters join the party.

"Now it's 20 of you vs lil ol' me. If the whole lot of you can't make me hit the floor once before I make you all quit, I'm only paying you half of what I told you. Understand? Good, now let's go!" She shouts, striking her stance.

The fighter gets a random water bottle and towel thrown at her as she dries her face and hydrates around the 20 people who are all groaning and dragging themselves off the ground.

Walking away, she tells her assistant to ensure they all get paid the full amount.

After showering, she lays on her bed, bored and dreaming of the day she gets to feel the thrill of battle again. She looks at her hands, clinching them tightly into a fist before sadly letting them fall.

Getting dressed, she gets into her truck with her driver to grab a meal in town.

Staring out of her tinted window at the beautiful day and the happy people, she smiles, but it's not inspired by her happiness—it's just the joy she sees the people having.

As she rides to her destination, her eyes widen as she sees the one person she never thought she would see again. She only saw him for a second, but she knows for certain that it was him.

There was no way it couldn't be.

She tells her driver to turn around, and when she catches up to him, she rolls her window down.

"Excuse me, uhm, I am heading to lunch, and I was wondering if you would like to join me. I would love the company," she asks.

Such a random invitation surprises Cordayl, but Esquimo doesn't hesitate. "Of course, we wouldn't mind keeping such a beautiful young lady company. We were just about to grab a bite ourselves, so why not share the meal."

Cordayl gives him the side eye, but when his friend cheerily walks to the vehicle, he has no choice but to follow.

As they settle into the vehicle, Esquimo asks the young lady her name. "Yesseia, " she answers, never taking her eyes off of Cordayl.

"What a beautiful name," Esquimo responds. "Would you happen to be the same Yesseia we keep hearing about all over town? The Champion of the city!"

"I am." She replies, with a humble smile

"How wonderful! Congratulations on your recent victory. I hear you put on a splendid bout in the finale," Esquimo says.

"Thank you, sir. I'm sorry. I am familiar with Cordayl, but I do not know you. May I ask your name?" Yesseia asks.

"Of course, I am Esquimo. Proud retired warrior of the Youtound Kingdom and travel guide for the young lad Cordayl," Esquimo answers.

"Nice to meet you, Esquimo," Yesseia says.

"Have we met before?" Cordayl asks Yesseia.

"Just once. You don't remember?" She responds.

Cordayl is puzzled as he tries his hardest to remember, but suddenly, the car stops, and Yesseia hops out of the truck.

Walking through the restaurant, Yesseia is escorted to her table, but when she notices Cordayl pulling his hood tighter, she asks if they can sit in a less populated area. The waiter obliges and leads them to a secluded area of the restaurant.

Esquimo pulls Yesseia's seat out for her and pushes it in before taking his. Cordayl takes his seat, but now he is the one who can not take his eyes off of Yesseia.

As appetizers and beverages arrive, Esquimo decides to eat the first course, but Cordayl is more interested in his history with Yesseia.

"There is no way you are Melatonin," Cordayl says.

"I am not," Yesseia answers.

"Did we work together at some point?" Cordayl follows up.

"No."

"Go to the same library?"

"I don't like reading."

"Meet each other at the beach?"

"Nope."

"Did we date?"

"No!"

"Did we fight?"

Yesseia stares at him after he asks this question. "We did not fight officially, but I was there that day," she answers.

"That day?" Her eye contact is like telepathy, as Cordayl instantly gets a flashback to that infamous day. "You're from the Hardoy Tribe."

"Yes, Cordayl. I fought in the battle as you did that day. You don't remember us huddled next to each other at the bottom of that pile?"

Cordayl's eyes look past Yesseia as he slowly recalls the retracted memories of that day. He doesn't remember a face or many features, just the color of her eyes and the feel of her anger as she cried.

Cordayl returns to the moment, realizing he is looking at those same eyes a decade later.

"Well, I'm glad to see you are doing well for yourself. What do you want from me, though?" Cordayl gets to the point.

"I want to fight you," Yesseia tells him.

Cordayl sighs. "Well, there is a long line, and you're at the back of it."

"No, Cordayl, I am at the front of it. Our fight started 10 years ago and was never finished. We will be the ones to finish it and decide whose tribe is the victor," Yesseia responds.

"For what? I lost everything that day, including the battle. So the Hardoy has won. Congratulations, champ," Cordayl replies.

Yesseia's eyes tighten, "Don't call me champ."

"Why not? Are you not the champion in this part of the world?" Cordayl ask.

"I am. But the tone you use sounds sarcastic. Like you don't believe it," Yesseia responds.

The two lock eyes again, not in remembrance but in contention. "I don't fight anymore. Only out of necessity," Cordayl tells her.

"Funny because it feels like I've been doing the same thing. Battling used to bring me joy but after that day, I found myself fighting for food and money. Fighting for respect, for sleep, for peace of mind…" Yesseia trails off. "

"I will never stop fighting, but it's starting to bore me. Then I saw you, and a jolt hit my heart that I haven't felt in years. It was destiny. Because I knew I had finally found the fight I was fated to partake in.

"The moment may have been delayed for the longest, but it is finally here. I feel it and can tell by your eyes that you feel it, too. A fighter you can finally test your might against. The fight you've been waiting for," Yesseia concludes.

Cordayl just stares at her, unfazed. "I already told you I'm not looking for any fights. I gave up the life of a fighter a long time ago. I fight out of self-defense. I even try doing the cowardly thing of running first.

"Because the truth of it is, I'm scared to fight. It scares me how much I love it. I've had to fight so many people for no other reason than their egos or lust for fame. I've had to break bones in people for not giving me a break and leaving me alone." Cordayl says, staring at his fist.

Then his voice merges, "I feel a sense of happiness when my enemy's confidence turns to fear. Do you know how many unbeaten opponents I have faced? Ask them if they are still undefeated. I've crushed the mighty, and I have smiled afterward," Cordayl tells her.

"You said all that to say what?" Yesseia says unimpressed.

"The point of all I just said was to explain that I still love fighting. I love it so much that I hate it." Cordayl says, leaning forward. "So why would I fight someone bored and looking for a good workout? I will destroy you," Cordayl states.

Yesseia stares at him, taking in the seriousness of his eyes and the brute honesty in his tone. And it makes her smile. "No, Cordayl, you will not. I believe everything you said except that part.

"You see, the thing is, I don't fear you. The world may view you as this scary 'Diablo,' but I only see a man who looks lost. I heard about your victory against the superhero. Impressive to the world but empty to me.

"I trained him for a week, but when I realized he couldn't even take a punch to the face, I quit on the spot. A strong bitch is still a bitch.

"All of your battles have been against opponents who were just cocky about their powers and abilities. They weren't real warriors like us. Like me.

"It's true I have grown bored of the fights I have participated in these last few years, but unlike you, I didn't turn my back on my people's ways. I have trained every day to honor my tribe, refusing to run against anyone or anything.

"If you love to fight, then show me the strength of your passion! And hopefully, after I crush you, you will ask for your ancestor's forgiveness and return to the path of a warrior. Running away?! Your father would be disgusted with you!" Yesseia finishes.

Cordayl is so focused on Yesseia that if it weren't coming directly from his mind, he wouldn't even had heard the voice laughing. "Damn, you attract the best women! I am in love! Let's kick her ass, then ask for her hand in marriage."

"Where do we fight?" Cordayl asks, and Yesseia smiles.