The crowd erupted.
The opponent attacked again.
Noah redirected.
The match ended seconds later.
Noah won.
But the crowd wasn't cheering because he had dominated.
They were cheering because he had shown control.
Backstage, Maya hugged him.
"That was beautiful."
Noah laughed.
"I almost lost."
"No."
She shook her head.
"You almost won the wrong way."
Noah looked at her.
She smiled.
"Now you didn't."
The tournament advanced.
One match.
Then another.
Noah reached the semifinals.
Maya did too.
The bracket was displayed on the giant screen.
Noah looked up.
His name.
Maya's name.
Final match.
They were going to face each other.
Noah looked at Miller.
The coach nodded.
"Now we find out."
The night before the final, Noah couldn't sleep.
He walked outside the hotel.
The city was quiet.
Streetlights reflected on wet pavement.
Maya found him sitting on a bench.
"You always disappear when you're nervous."
"I'm not nervous."
She laughed.
"Sure."
Noah looked at her.
"Are you?"
"Terrified."
He smiled.
"Good."
"Why good?"
"Means you care."
Maya sat beside him.
For several minutes, neither spoke.
Then she asked:
"Why do you fight?"
Noah looked at the street.
"I used to know."
"And now?"
"I don't."
Maya waited.
He finally said:
"My father wanted me to be strong."
"That's it?"
"I think so."
"Did he ever say what strong meant?"
Noah shook his head.
Maya looked at him.
"Maybe you should figure that out."
He smiled.
"You're starting to sound like Miller."
"That's because he's right."
Noah laughed.
Then Maya became serious.
"If you win tomorrow, I'll congratulate you."
"And if you win?"