I watch my opponent. I watch Lasha. I see her stepping forward, her gaze sharpened like a blade. I see her body twisting, readying to throw a punch.

Her movements are different from the memories etched into my soul. The Lasha I’d watched from behind a monitor, her posture and approach back then, was different. She’d never shown such moves.

Yet, that doesn’t mean she’s become someone entirely different from her game self.

Just like in the game, she longs to face the strong.

Just like in the game, she relies on her fists alone, never using weapons.

Just like …