Victor was sitting in the medical room when Marcus approached.
The young fighter had a small bandage above his eyebrow.
He looked up.
“Hey.”
Marcus stopped near the door.
“Can I come in?”
“Sure.”
Marcus stepped inside.
He had prepared several explanations.
He had thought about telling Victor that the punch had been a reflex, that the bell had sounded unexpectedly, that he had been caught up in the moment.
But when he saw the bandage, the explanations seemed useless.
“I shouldn't have thrown that last punch.”
Victor nodded.
“No.”
“I knew the round was over.”
“Yeah.”
“I was angry.”
Victor looked at him.
“Because I kept moving?”
Marcus gave a short, embarrassed laugh.
“Yeah.”
Victor shook his head.
“That was the assignment.”
“I know.”
Marcus pulled a chair closer.
“I want to apologize. Not because Elena told me to. Not because the gym needs to protect its reputation. I shouldn't have done it.”
Victor looked at him for several seconds.
Then he said, “You know what bothered me most?”
“What?”
“You weren't even looking at me when you threw it.”
Marcus frowned.
“What do you mean?”
“You were looking past me. Like you were fighting someone else.”
Marcus felt the words land.
Victor continued.
“You were fighting Reyes in your head. I was just the guy standing in front of you.”
Marcus lowered his eyes.
“That might be true.”
“I came here to help you prepare.”
“I know.”
“I don't mind getting hit. That's part of the sport. But I don't want to be punished because you're angry at somebody who isn't even in the room.”
Marcus nodded.
“You're right.”
Victor leaned back.
“I accept the apology.”
Marcus extended his hand.
Victor shook it.
“But I'm not sparring with you again until Elena says it's safe.”
“That's fair.”
“And next time, listen to the coach.”
Marcus smiled faintly.
“I will.”
Later that evening, Marcus found Althea near the west mat.
She was cleaning the area where the sparring session had taken place.
He stood several feet away.
“Victor's okay.”
Althea nodded.
“I'm glad.”
“He needed stitches.”
“I heard.”
Marcus looked at the floor.
“I shouldn't have thrown that last punch.”
“No.”
“I know.”
She continued cleaning.
Marcus waited.
Finally, he said, “You're not going to tell me what I did wrong?”
Althea looked up.
“You already know.”
He nodded.
“I got angry.”
“Yes.”
“I thought he was making me look weak.”
“And what did you do?”
“I tried to prove I wasn't.”
Althea wrung out the mop.
“Did it work?”
Marcus gave a tired laugh.
“No.”
She returned to the floor.
He watched her for a moment.
Then he said, “I think I'm scared.”
Althea stopped.
“Of losing?”
“Of what happens if I do.”
She leaned the mop against the bucket.
“Marcus, losing a fight can hurt. Losing your health can hurt. Losing someone's trust can hurt.”
She looked at him.
“But none of those things makes you worthless.”
He swallowed.
“You really believe that?”
“Yes.”
“Even if I lose the title?”
“Especially then.”
He looked toward the ring.
Althea continued.
“You have spent so much time trying to prove that you're strong that you have forgotten strength is not the same as control.”
Marcus listened.
“Sometimes strength is stepping back. Sometimes it's admitting you're hurt. Sometimes it's allowing another person to be better at something than you are.”
She picked up the mop again.
“And sometimes it's knowing when you've done enough damage.”
Marcus looked down.
He remembered Victor's face.
The blood.
The silence.
He nodded.
“I'm going to apologize to him.”
“Good.”
“And I'm going to ask Elena to change the training plan.”
“Good.”
He took a breath.
“Thank you.”
Althea looked at him.
“Don't thank me yet.”
“Why?”
“Because the important part hasn't happened.”
She pointed toward the ring.
“You have to do it differently next time.”
The following morning, Marcus visited Victor at home.
He brought no camera.
No sponsor representative.
No social-media manager.
Only a small bag of groceries and a handwritten note.
Victor answered the door wearing a T-shirt and a bandage above his eyebrow.
He looked surprised.
“Marcus?”
“Can I come in?”
Victor stepped aside.
Marcus placed the groceries on the kitchen counter.
“I wanted to apologize.”
Victor crossed his arms.
“For the punch?”
“For the punch. For ignoring the drill. For treating you like you were doing something wrong when you were doing exactly what Elena asked.”
Victor studied him.
“You were angry.”
“I was.”
“Why?”
Marcus hesitated.
“Because you were making me miss.”
Victor laughed.
“That was the assignment.”
“I know.”
The silence that followed was uncomfortable.
Marcus continued.
“I don't expect you to spar with me again.”
Victor looked at him.
“Why?”
“Because I don't want you thinking you have to take that kind of risk.”
Victor shook his head.
“I'm not afraid of you.”
Marcus looked up.
“I'm not saying you should be.”
“Then don't treat me like I am.”
Marcus nodded.
“Fair.”
Victor extended his hand.