Result

Chapter 16 - Result

Torin drove his fist into the heavy bag in a steady rhythm. Jab, jab, jab, cross. Each impact sent a dull thud through the gym while the chain above rattled loudly. He shifted his feet and moved with the swinging bag, slipping to the side as if an opponent were throwing punches at him. His gloves came up again almost immediately, followed by another combination—jab, cross, hook, uppercut, cross. The heavy bag twisted beneath the blows, swinging farther with every hit.

He kept moving. His feet slid across the rubber mat, his shoulders rolling with every punch. Sweat had already soaked through his shirt, sticking the fabric to his back and chest. It ran down the side of his face and gathered beneath his chin before dropping onto the floor. His arms were beginning to feel heavy, but he ignored it and kept punching. Another series of sharp jabs snapped the bag sideways, followed by a hard cross that made the chain above him groan.

The gym was alive with noise around him. Gloves smacked against punching mitts somewhere behind him, jump ropes slapped against the rubber floor, and the occasional shout of a coach cut through everything else. The air smelled of leather, rubber mats, sweat, and the faint chemical scent of cleaning spray. It was a familiar smell to Torin now. After spending so much time here, he barely noticed it anymore.

Finally, he lowered his hands. His chest rose and fell heavily as he stood in front of the slowly swinging bag. For a moment, he simply watched it move back and forth. His shoulders burned, and his shirt clung to him like a second layer of skin. He pulled off his gloves and walked toward the nearby bench.

Torin dropped onto it with a tired sigh and reached for his shaker. He unscrewed the lid and took a long drink. The cold protein shake felt almost painfully good against his dry throat. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and took another smaller sip while trying to slow his breathing.

A shadow suddenly fell across him.

Torin looked up.

Mike stood in front of the bench, his broad shoulders blocking part of the overhead light. He was a solid man, built thick through the chest and arms, with the kind of physique that made it obvious he had spent most of his life training. There was nothing flashy about him, yet his presence alone was enough to make people pay attention.

Torin's eyes briefly moved past him to the far wall.

A huge framed photograph hung there, showing Mike standing in the center of a boxing ring with one fist raised above his head. A championship belt rested around his waist, another hanging over his shoulder. The photograph had been taken years ago, but there was no mistaking the man in it.

Beneath the photograph was a single word.

Champion.

Torin looked back at the man standing in front of him.

“Torin,” Mike said. “What did you think about what I told you?”

Torin wiped his mouth with the back of his wrist before answering. “No, Mike. I don't think I can do boxing full-time.”

Mike's expression remained calm. “Why?”

“Because I'm not that talented.”

Mike raised an eyebrow, but Torin continued before he could say anything.

“I like boxing, like training, and just enjoy sparring. But doing it professionally is different.” Torin glanced down at his shaker. “I'm not good enough to build my life around it.”

For a moment, Mike said nothing.

Torin gave him a small smile. “Besides, I already get to do something most people here would probably kill for.”

“What?”

“I get to spar with the Champion.”

The corner of Mike's mouth twitched upward.

“Well, you're the one who asked,” he said. “The others feel intimidated.”

Torin looked around the gym. A few boxers were training on the other side of the room. One of them happened to glance over. The moment their eyes met Torin's, the boxer quickly turned his attention back to the bag.

Torin chuckled. “I wonder why.”

Before Mike could respond, a girl's voice came from beside him.

“Are you pressuring Torin again?”

Mike's expression immediately changed.

Torin looked up to see an orange-haired girl standing beside him. She reached out without hesitation, grabbed Mike by the ear, and gave it a firm tug.

“Ow. Mia.”

“You heard him,” Mia said. “He said he doesn't want to.”

“I wasn't pressuring him,” Mike said, raising both hands defensively. “We were just talking about his training.”

Mia gave his ear another small tug.

“Sounds like pressure.”

“It was a question.”

“A question you've already asked him before.”

Mike opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

Torin couldn't help smiling at the sight. The same man whose photograph dominated the wall as the Champion of the gym was now standing helplessly in front of an girl who had him by the ear.

“Mia,” Torin said, trying not to laugh. “Mike didn't do anything. We're just having a casual conversation.”

She looked at Torin for a moment before releasing Mike's ear.

“Fine.”

Mike immediately rubbed the side of his ear.

Mia gave him one final warning look. “It better stay a casual conversation.”

“It will,” Mike said quickly.

Torin shook his head, amused by the strange little exchange between the two of them. He finished packing his things, placed his gloves inside his bag, and zipped it shut. He slung the bag over his shoulder and stood.

“I'll see you two later.”

“See you,” Mike said.

Mia gave him a small wave.

Torin turned toward the exit, leaving the two of them behind. The familiar sounds of the gym followed him—the steady pounding of gloves against bags, the squeak of shoes against the mat, and the occasional shout from one of the coaches.

As he pushed open the door, cool air brushed against his sweaty face. He stepped outside and let the door close behind him.

For a moment, the noise of the gym faded. Then Torin adjusted the strap of his bag and started walking home.

He left the gym with the weight of the day already settling on his shoulders. Today was the day of the results. Everything he had put into the real-estate agent exam—the extra classes with Alisha, the late nights, the early mornings, all those hours spent studying when he would rather have been enjoying with Gia—would finally come down to a single result. Either all that work had been worth it, or it hadn't.

Tower Blaze rose ahead of him, its familiar shape coming into view as he crossed the street. Torin pushed through the entrance and headed straight for Unit 1C. When he stepped inside, he found Leena sitting, quietly watching the room. Gia was on the couch with her laptop open in front of her, her eyes fixed on the screen. Beside her sat her father, who looked far more tense than Torin expected. His brow was furrowed, and he kept staring at the laptop as if the result on that screen somehow decided his own future too.

Torin paused for a moment and looked at the three of them. They were strange people. There had been a time when they looked at him as if he were something that had crawled in through a crack under the door, someone they wanted nowhere near their family. Now things were different. After all those nights with Gia, she acted as though Torin already belonged beside her, while the officer, after his initial resistance, had slowly started treating him less like an outsider and more like a future son-in-law.

Torin greeted Leena first, then nodded to Gia and her father. Before he could say anything else, Misty padded over to him, her little tail wagging. Torin bent down, scratched her head, and slipped her the usual piece of chocolate. The girl happily accepted it before trotting away. Leena gave Torin a small smile, and he returned it.

Then Gia suddenly straightened.

“It's here.”

Torin looked over.

Gia's eyes widened as she stared at the laptop. “It's here! The results are out. Come on, Torin. Fast!”

Her father immediately leaned closer to the screen. “Don't make her wait. Come here.”

There was something in his voice that made Torin's stomach tighten. He slowly set his gym bag down on the floor.

For a second, nobody spoke.

Torin wiped his palms against his pants and stepped toward the laptop. Gia shifted to make room for him, her eyes still locked on the screen.

The result page was open.

Torin stopped beside her. At the center of the screen was a single name.

Torin.

Below it was the result. He stared at it.

And for the first time that day, he was afraid to look.

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