Everyone had gathered to see her. My entire class was there, huddled over a cheap tablet running YouTube. I didn't bother. Even if I could shove my way to the screen I wouldn't. Not that I didn't want to.

"There she goes again!" someone yelled. I looked over my shoulder. It was difficult being discrete with my level of obsession. "The Killing Machine's the best!"

I tried to ignore them, to focus on my poke-pet. I always carried a few with me. Taking care of them helped me relax usually. Not today. I was dying to see the latest clip, yet all I could do was clench my fists and pretend nothing was going on.

"Heya, Izzu!" Lina sat next to me. She was my best friend. The two of us knew each other since second grade and we shared secrets amongst ourselves. She knew I fought in MMA for a living, and I knew her family was well off. "The Killing Machine strikes again, eh?"

I grumbled quietly under my breath, trying to focus more on my poke-pet. I'd been giving this one far too much food lately, so I had to get it to exercise.

"You'll become one of those crazy cat ladies." She looked into my poke-pet's screen. Instinctively I turned away from her. "Want to see the clip?"

Lina, I'll strangle you! I did my best to ignore her. A tablet slid between me and my poke-pet. Why am I even surprised? I remained still, wondering whether to tap play or not. My hesitation didn't last over two seconds. Avoiding Lina’s smug expression I tapped on the screen.

The quality was horrible—shaky, grainy and without sound. Someone must have used a really bad phone camera to get that. And still the clip had gathered fifty thousand views. By the end of the day it would probably reach a million.

It took me one glance to recognize The Killing Machine. Wearing her typical pink and purple fight suit, she was fighting the winner of the CMMA semis. I held my breath as I admired the precision of her moves. Not one wasted action, not one empty kick. Precise, efficient, merciless, just like a machine. In the world of children's mixed martial arts, she was a legend. No one knew anything about her, just that she appeared at important matches and crushed her opponents every time.

"She's slow today," Lina leaned over the tablet. I pushed her away. You're no expert! You just know a few things!

She was right, thought. The Killing Machine did take longer than usual. In all the other clips I'd seen she had won in less than a minute. According to the clip, it took her five this time. I bit my lip. The Machine had appeared on the scene about an year ago and already had achieved legendary status. The masses thought her to be a publicity stunt to get more people interested in MMA. That was not the case. I had been fighting professionally since I was eight and could tell the real thing. Only skill and training could result in such moves.

"Still think you can beat her?" Lina whispered in my ear. Just as she knew I was a fighter, she also knew my other secret. I had obsessed facing The Killing Machine ever since the first video had hit YouTube. Most fighters wanted to, but they had different reasons.

"Aha." I restarted the clip from the beginning. The Machine hadn't used anything new, but I wanted to rewatch it all the same.

"She hasn't lost yet." Lina reminded.

That was true, but I knew something the others didn't. At least, I thought I did. From everything I'd seen The Killing Machine was a boy. The way "she" moved, her choice of attacks. I wasn't the first to come up with the theory, there was all sorts of speculation on the matter, yet I felt I was right. If true, I had a real chance of being the first to actually defeat him.

Midway through the clip the bell rang. Everyone rushed to their seats like grasshoppers let out of a jar. Lina stashed her tablet in her bag and opened her textbook. Moments later I followed suit, putting my poke-pet away.

"You sure you can beat her?" Lina whispered again as the teacher went to the blackboard.

"Yes." I nodded. If she appears during my fight tomorrow I will.

---

Tomorrow... I lay on my bed staring at the ceiling. I was still obsessing over The Killing Machine. Tomorrow was my last chance to face him. Next month I turned thirteen and with that would no longer fight in children's MMA. Worst part, my whole life would change.

"Poppy?" I heard my father say. "You okay?"

A silly question. I looked at him and smiled. He was standing at the door, a present behind his back again. It was easy to tell. Even when he hid it, his eyes would move a certain way. Shouts from the TV blasted in the room—another sports I was using to distract me.

"Bought you the new pocket pet." He took out a small plastic box from behind its back. It was scarred all over, the price tag half-torn off. "It's the Sheepie, just as you wanted."

"Thanks, Daddy!" I stood up and went to get it from him. I know you are trying, Daddy. You and Mom really are, but you can't understand this. Only fighters do. "I'll take it to school this week." I hugged him. His skin felt cold, despite the heat. Too much smoking or the bad food he's been eating. "You're shivering." I pulled back.

"Just a cold." He looked away. "You have fun."

Have fun. I glanced at the gift. Plastic within plastic. I had eleven of those, but this one completed the set. According to the adds, my poke-pets would interact with one another. Quickly, I rushed to my closet and grabbed a knife. A single slash and the casing fell off to the ground. I grabbed the pink egg-linke device and held down the reset button. Three short beeps followed by a long, after which the screen came to life.

Hello! That was a nice nap!
Are you my mother?

I laughed as I pressed confirm. Poke-pets always made me giggle. A pair of eyes appeared on the small screen blinking at me, then a small mouth.

What is your name, Mommy?

"Hey, Izzu!" The door swung open. My hands reacted on instinct, hiding the poke-pet from view. "Your dad told me you were—" Lina walked in, giving me one of the smuggest looks she could, "—busy."

My ears felt as if they were on fire. I so much wanted to punching her in the face right now. Stupid Lina! Ever since we'd first met she managed to find ways to embarrass me. Even now she stuck out her tongue before I could even say a word.

"Ready for something fun? Ice cream maybe?" She sat on my bed and started bouncing up and down.

"In a bit," I grumbled, completing the poke-pets setup.

Lina shrugged then grabbed the remote and started flipping the channels. From the corner of my eye I glanced at her. I hated it when someone changed channels and she knew it. The more I tried to ignore her, the faster the channel switching became.

"Okay!" I shouted. "What do you want?"

"The Killing Machine." In a single moment her expression seemed almost serious. "Do you really want to face her?"

"Of course! Haven't I been saying that for m—"

"Why?" Her question cut me off. What do you mean why? Because! Not that I said it out loud. Lina probably wanted to hear some reasonable explanation. Problem was I couldn't come up with any. At least not one that would make sense for a non-fighter. I could probably say that I wanted to ask him to be my friend, but that would sound weird.

"I want to see if I can beat him." That was the safe answer. Something everyone could understand.

"Again with the him." She looked at me with narrowed eyes. We had argued on the subject a lot. Nothing I said could convince her in my findings.

"I'm certain! I saw it in the clip today!" I insisted, tapping in the my initial poke-pet orders. "Only boys kick like that. I can tell."

"You might be imagining things." She threw the remote on the bed. "No boy will choose such colors to fight with."

"I know what I saw." Why are you so convinced it isn't?

We remained in silence. I continued to play around with my toy. Lina relaxed onto the bed and puffed.

"Will that change things between us?" she asked all do a sudden. "If you beat her, will we remain friends?" I turned towards her, not saying a word.

"Something wrong?" I'd known her my entire life and not once had she asked such a question.

"If the Killing Machine appears and you beat her, will she replace me as your friend?"

"You're being silly." There was no way anyone would replace Lina as my friend. Or was there? Apart from my parents and my fighting rivals she was the only one who knew I fought. That was nice, but it also limited our time together. We only saw each other at school or when she came to visit. Most of my time I spent training, fighting, or sometimes hanging out with other child martial artists. We all knew who we were, so that made it easier as far as NDAs went. We didn't have to pretend or come up with ridiculous explanations. With Lina it was different. I still have no idea why I had told her. I shouldn't have. I remember how mad coach was when he learned. It was a stupid decision, one which I cherished. However, would things change after I found out The Killer Machine's identity?

"I'm serious!" She sat back up. "If The Machine walks into this room right now and asks to be your friend, will she replace me?"

"The Killer Machine won't just march in here and say hello." I crossed my arms. "And even if he did, so what? That wouldn't change a thing. We've been friends for—"

"I'm not a boy," she cut me short.

I opened my mouth to respond, but nothing came out. Lina was right, she wasn't a boy and that meant all the difference. In the past I'd laugh about it, but soon things would start change. They were changing already. As much as everything remained the same I would catch myself reading romance comics, or watching some stupid teen show. Even at school I'd behave differently. Not that anyone there interested me particularly. Was that the reason I was so infatuated with The Killing Machine? Was that the reason I was so sure he was a boy?

"The Killing Machine won't show up." I tried to smile. "And tomorrow's my last fight. I'll move to a different league and never get to face him again." Everything will remain just the way it is. Although, I also hope that I'm wrong. Maybe he will appear after all? Maybe at least one of my dreams will come true?

---

Noon at the arena. The smell of sweat and cheap cigarettes were everywhere. Biting on the piece of plastic, I stared at the empty ring. Soon I would be there, under the lights, fighting the most important match of my life. Years of pain and training had gone into this moment. I was sure my parents would be watching.

"Just like we talked," Jinn, my coach, said. The years of training others had made him fat and slow, yet he still had an eye for things. Three of the last decade's champions were trained by him, so I knew to listen. "Keep the fight over three minutes. He'll probably go for your legs, so take his first."

I nodded. Over three minutes. The standard sponsor requirement. An year ago I didn't have to worry about such things. My fights would always reach the fifth round. Now, I'd become so good that my sponsor bonus depended on the length of the match.

"Focus on distance," Jinn slapped me on the back of the neck. "He'll try to get in close, so don't let him. And end with a slam."

"A slam" was what the coach liked to call a knock out. He'd rarely allow me to do those — they were bad for business. Every once in awhile a sponsor would request one, but in general people liked to watch long fights. Today was a special, though; today was my fight.

"Break him, Izzu!" The coach slapped my neck again, then moved away. It was time to begin.

Taking a deep breath I went to the dressing room. Three officials carefully watched as I was strapped on a specially designed outfit to mask as many of my features as possible. I hated it. It felt too much like plastic, restricting my movements and making my skin itch. Sadly, it was required. Child fighting was illegal, so the organizers went round this by making all participants unrecognizable.

"You're leaving your braids long?" one of the officials asked. "Want them trimmed?"

I shook my head.

"Your choice," she said as she slid on the tournament mask over my face. I flinched as the nasty plastic touched my cheeks. So many years and I still wasn't fully used to this.

It takes two minutes for a fighter to be suited up. Two minutes of rushing to put on the most uncomfortable set of clothes in the world, if I could even call them clothes. Gold and black again. I so much wanted pink and green, but Jinn was against it. He wanted his fighters menacing. As if a skinny 4'5 girl could look menacing.

"Gloves," the official said and I complied. "Turn around." I did. "Good. Off to the ring."

Boring, boring, boring. The noise of the crowd surrounded me as I appeared. They could recognize me now. Funny how in the world of fighting things were inverted. I passed them every day as I went to school, as I rode alongside them in the same crowded subway, and none of them suspected. Put on the suit, and suddenly everyone starts calling my name. The shouts intensified as the name "Golden Kid" was added to my own.

Kri Kri. I smiled under my mask. He was nice, but not the strongest fighter. In all the times we faced each other he’d beaten me only once. His parents were as poor as mine, so he was determined. Winning the finals meant a huge thing. From what coach had said the prize money alone would set me up for life, and that was before all the commercial deals. I wish he chose better sponsors, thought. Toy companies avoided me for some reason. The ones I got were energy and alcohol drinks, and the stupid part—I wasn't allowed to drink any of those.

"Golden Kid! Golden Kid!" the crowd roared as he entered the ring. You only got to be here because Joy got the flu. I glanced at my coach. Seeing me he listed a hand with three fingers showing. There was no need to tell me. I wasn't upset at Kri Kri. There was no way he could beat me, no matter how much he tried.

I climbed onto the ring and slipped past the ropes. My name filled the air. Kri Kri waved. Why do you do that each time? It's stupid.

"Welcome, fans of the greatest sport in the world!" The announcer's voice boomed. "I welcome you all to the children's MMA final fight!" He said "children’s", but there was nothing childish about it. The pain, the injuries, the constant training and diet regimens were as intense as all the rest. "And do we have a spectacle today! In one corner we have the rising star, who has crushed every opponent on his way to get here. Let me hear your chears for Golden Kid!"

You look like an idiot! The crowd erupted in cheers as Kri Kri did an air flip. Adrenalin kicked in. My fingers tingled as my heart pinged in my throat. My vision blurred for a second, then cleared up. In the ring there was no thing such as pity, mercy, friendship. That's what coach constantly repeated. So far I'd accepted it, but every now and again doubts would creep in.

"And in the right corner," the announcer went on, silencing the crowds. "The girl who knows no mercy. You know her, you love her, the unstable Boy Breaker herself!" I really hate that name.

The crowd erupted again. I waved, but my eyes were on my opponent. The bell rang. None of us wasted time. Kri Kri rushed towards me to shorten the distance. He knew he'd have an advantage in close combat so he was trying to get to a point at which I couldn't use my legs. I took a step back feigning an attack to the head. My punch was easily avoided, but in doing so he created an opening. It wasn't much, most would even chose to ignore it, waiting for a better opportunity. I didn't. My body spun, as I took another step back, twisting around like a top, then landing a kick right in the side of his head. Kri Kri blocked, of course, but it didn't particularly matter. The strength was such that the shock passed through.

Realizing his mistake, he jumped back. I didn't follow. Jinn had told me to keep the fight going for three minutes, and I would. Joy wouldn't have fallen for a trick like this. It was moments like this that annoyed me. Even when they knew I was stronger, boys kept on thinking that it was all a matter of luck, that they'd manage to surprise me and end my winning streak. The only thing they did was to mess up.

I glanced at Jinn. Two fingers — two minutes to go. Time to give the audience what they wanted. I started a series of spin kicks. All of them were deliberately sloppy and too far away from Kri Kri to do any damage. They were aimed for the crowd not him, yet I could tell by his footwork, he was hesitating. After that first kick he didn't want to take any chances. Another mistake. Overestimating an opponent was just as bad as underestimating them. Somehow boys managed to do both at once.

One minute left. I stopped dancing and moved to the center of the ring, leaving myself open for attack. Kri Kri landed a few punches, but all of them were weak and uncertain. This wasn't what I'd hoped for my final match. It wasn't a fight, it was sparring. The crowd kept on yelling, but they couldn't understand a thing. They thought they saw a close battle, when everything was already clear. Even their favorite Golden Kid knew it; he was simply going through the motions.

My coach put his hand down. Time was up. Sorry, Kri Kri. ignoring his attacks I shot forward starting a barrage of punches. They weren't difficult to evade, but my opponent was already cautions from my initial kick to the head so he panicked. Instead of keeping the distance, he subconsciously stepped back, possibly aiming for the safety of his corner. That was a mistake. While he was busy guarding his torso, I did a low sweep. It made contact. As he started to topple over, I spun in the opposite direction, aiming for the back of his head. Jinn had told me that the first reaction of anyone who had lost balance was to move their hands towards the ground. Kri Kri did just that, exposing himself to the full strength of my kick.

Thump! Kri Kri slammed on the floor of the ring. The crowd went wild. Coach told me as long as they got their spectacle they didn't care who won or lost. Five minutes ago Golden Kid was on everyone's lips. Now it was Boy Breaker. I raised my arm to wave. Halfway there, I froze. There, right in the crowd, was a pink and purple spot. I only caught a glimpse of it before he dashed right for me.

No way! It was pure luck that I regained control of my muscles in time to avoid a jump-in attack. The end of the foot passed less than an inch from my nose.

"Incredible, MMA fans!" The announcer boomed. "Out of nowhere The Killing Machine has entered the ring!"

I just stared, still unable to believe what I was seeing. The Killing Machine! He had come. The announcer continued shouting useless words. You knew, didn't you? Jinn probably knew as well. I would glance at him to check, if I wasn't mesmerized by the unexpected opponent before me. Pink and purple just like in the videos, his entire head hidden under a white mask.

"What will happen now? The Killing Machine faces the Boy Breaker!" the announcer yelled above the crowd’s screams. "Who will win? Whose victory streak will end?"

My muscles tensed. This wasn't anything like my usual fights. No dancing, no playing for time, no posing for the audience. Win or lose the battle would be over in less than a minute. Cautiously, I took a step back. The Killing Machine was shorter than I expected. Athletic, even under the suit, and extremely skilled. If I was going to win against him I had to be at my best. Based on all the clips he preferred to attack, rarely being on the defensive. That meant I had to take the initiative.

He's a boy, I said to myself. Boys can't bend. All sounds disappeared into nothingness. The roar was gone, then the people vanished, followed by the stands, the walls... only the ring remained, the ring and The Killing Machine.

Now! I leapt forward. No time to waste with feigning moves. The Killing Machine must have guessed what I had in mind because he did the same. We both twisted in the air, each of our legs smashing into the other. A dull pain shot from my thigh, as I felt my heel sink into his shoulder. It seemed he had the advantage, but I hadn't finished yet. I probably had seconds before the pain become too strong for me to walk. In the meantime, he had one arm less to defend himself with. The instant I touched the floor, I went forward for a barrage of punches. Not the fake ones from before, this time I was being serious.

I won't let you evade! I picked up the pace. My fists kept failing to contact. He had a perfect defense, as expected. Yet, with each second he was starting to use more and more needless actions. His body had started to recognize the pain in his arm, no doubt. This was the moment of truth. Gritting my teeth, I made a step forward.

Go for my foot! Just do it! And he did. Letting the last few punches hit, he turned around starting a spinning sweep. That's what I was waiting for. Twisting counterclockwise, I aimed for his head. I'm going to slam you! I thought as euphoria filled me. My heart was beating so fast my chest was hurting. I did it! I actually did it! My foot moved towards its target, getting closer and closer... and then missed. The Killing Machine's body bent back like a rubber pencil, letting my foot pass above. Time froze.

Damn it! I remained there motionless. I had been given one chance at this, one chance and it all had wasted it. The odds of him facing me were one in a hundred, maybe more. Still, he had come... and crushed me completely. The battle was over and we both knew it. I could probably last a while longer, create the illusion I was fighting back. Why bother?

The floor pinched me in the shoulder. I felt like the entire world tilted. The yells of the crowd slowly returned, along with the announcer, celebrating the victory of the undefeated Killing Machine. I knew what would follow. He would vanish in the crowd again, leaving me to the care of my coach. That was his what he always did.

"Boy Breaker! Boy Breaker!" the crowd chanted. I didn't notice at first. A few seconds had to pass until my mind returned to reality. What's going on? Why are you calling my name?

Standing above me, almost glowing under the ring lights stood my opponent, was my obsession. His left arm moved down, offering to help me up. You know, don't you? I was too dazzled to even smile. You know this is my final match. That's why you are doing this. My thigh was throbbing in pain. I ignored it, grabbing his hand. He pulled me up, letting me lean on him for support.

"Can we..." I whispered, clinging to him. Thousands of people were watching, by tonight they would have become millions. I didn't care. "Can we be friends?"

I felt him pat me on the back. After the kick I gave him the pain was probably insufferable, and yet he still pat me on the back. His masked face moved closer to my ear.

"Always," I heard Lina's whisper. "Always and forever."