Split Victory

© 2026 Zoë Taylor

“Hyperextended in the AAA finals,” Jade sighed, balancing her weight. “They had to carry me off like a sack of flour. Totally embarrassing. But hey, now I’m a scout. I didn't see your name on the NAMASA roster, T-Bird.”

“Late entry. Jen thought I needed to ‘expand my horizon’ beyond the TKD bubble.” Tiffani glanced at the gold ‘NAMASA #1’ pin on Jade’s jacket. It caught the fluorescent light with a mocking glint. “The 2028 Olympics are the goal,” Tiffani said softly, her eyes drifting to the crowd. “But the noise, the drama about trans girls on the mat. NAMASA is already rattling the cage, Jade. I don't know if I can hold the mask for four more years.”

Chapter 5 - Jen and Jade

If the lobby was a sea of chaos, the tournament floor was an ocean. Thirty rings spread across the civic center, an olfactory overload of floor wax and buttered popcorn with just a hint of sweat that mingled with her sugar free bubblegum in all the wrong ways..

A male competitor brushed past, trailing a tangible cloud of Axe body spray. The unrefined . assault came as a final insult that instantly made her long for the easy ozone of the e-bike, even if the rider made her queasy at the thought of being in the same ring.

“Jade!” Tiffani let out a small yelp of relief. Jade Parker stood near the 2A bracket boards, leaning heavily on crutches with her right leg locked in a splint brace. She had a black track suit not unlike Tiffani’s rather than the neon green and electric blue of the Velocity Sparrow Global Taekwondo Academy they normally wore to TKD tournaments.

“What happened?” Tiffani asked, pulling her into a careful hug.

“Hyperextended in the AAA finals,” Jade sighed, balancing her weight. “They had to carry me off like a sack of flour. Totally embarrassing. But hey, now I’m a scout. I didn't see your name on the NAMASA roster, T-Bird.”

“Late entry. Jen thought I needed to ‘expand my horizon’ beyond the TKD bubble.” Tiffani glanced at the gold ‘NAMASA #1’ pin on Jade’s jacket. It caught the fluorescent light with a mocking glint.

“The 2028 Olympics are the goal,” Tiffani said softly, her eyes drifting to the crowd. “But the noise, the drama about trans girls on the mat. NAMASA is already rattling the cage, Jade. I don't know if I can hold the mask for four more years.”

Jade’s expression softened. She reached out, her hand a grounding weight on Tiffani’s shoulder. “Empty your cup, Tiff. If you fill it with what some jerk on a podcast says, there’s no room for the joy of the hit. Don't let the dark side win.”

Tiffani managed a weak smile. “Okay, Yoda. I get it.”

“Good.” Jade unpinned her ‘#1’ badge and pressed it into Tiffani’s palm. “Loaner. For luck. Pin it on your bag. If anyone starts crap, I’m right there with you. MMA is ninety-percent psychology, girl.”

Tiffani struggled to fight back tears at the sudden and extremely unexpected gesture. Jade never let anyone ‘borrow’ anything of hers so this came as a complete shock. “Jade... Thank you,” Tiffani said, immediately bringing her bag around to pin it where it would catch the light best and hugged her again.

“T-bird! Jade found you!” Jen bounded over, her ‘cheer coach’ energy infectious, especially in her Velocity Sparrow tracksuit. Her smile wavered though. “I wish I could have shielded you from the draw, Tiff. But the brackets are locked. Your first opponent is Liberty Styles.”

Jade flinched. “Ah, crap.”

“The e-bike girl?” Tiffani’s heart raced, panic taking over. “In the first round? How is that fair?”

“Focus on the exhale,” Jade commanded. “Styles is a master of the blitz. She’ll try to overwhelm your perimeter. Keep her out of your circle. Don't hold back because she’s a girl because you are too.”

Jade gave Tiffani’s chest protector a playful, smack with her knuckle. “You’ve got this.”

A distorted megaphone cut through at that: “TIFFANI STERLING, RING 15! LIBERTY STYLES, RING 15!”

“Fast and loose,” Jadecheered. “Show her Sparrows have claws.”

Chapter 6 - Big Tiger, Small Jungle

The small single 1A city tournament bustled with a quiet and casual atmosphere unlike the regional/state AA tournament happening at the Chicago Civic Center. Being largely Kenpo and TKD students with one or two Wushu or forms exhibitions, and mostly underbelts or newly minted black belts hunting points, Morgan moved like a shark among guppies.

He walked past the registration desk, and, even bearing the aged, dingy underbelt, officials knew him, checked boxes, and waved him through. An intern could bring him his badge as a formality later.

“Hey, Star.”

Morgan stopped and genuinely smiled, the only flicker of humanity in an otherwise cold machine mask. Amber stood leaned casually against the bleacher wall. She had her long, blonde hair tightly braided, ready to wrap into her headgear, but her namesake amber eyes, even if they looked more hazel or brown in this light, held the same weary pre-fight calm he felt in the pit of his stomach and chest.

“Amber, hey. I thought you’d be with Liberty at the AA?” He put out his hand to her. They didn’t hug or fist bump, just a pre-fight good luck ritual, letting each other’s fingers touch as if they were touching gloves before a sparring match.

Amber shrugged her shoulders tightly. “Sometimes it’s nice to just get out of the Dragon’s shadow. Not like you’d know anything about that.” She flinched a little after she said it. “Sorry. Didn’t mean that like it sounded.”

Morgan shook his head. “No worries. I know what you meant. I wasn’t always the #1 seed though. It’s not about the journey.”

“It’s about the destination,” Amber said dryly as she finished the quote with him in a practiced droning tone.. “Yeah, yeah.” She cracked a smile as she put her head on his shoulder. “Just once. Just once I’d like to know what it feels like to not be fighting myself, my sister’s legacy. It’s never enough.”

“I get you,” Morgan said as he put an arm around her and squeezed firmly. She raised her head, their eyes meeting. “I’m dealing with a lot of not enough myself.”

Before he could say what was on his mind, a NAMASA official approached bearing a clipboard like it was the only thing that mattered, and extended a small badge that read ‘Sterling-Roth, M.’ and ‘EPAK Blackbelt’. He didn’t need it, and neither did the crowd, already gathering, but rules were rules. “You’re in ring 4 Morgan. Amber, you’ve got ring 3.”

“Domo,” they said in unison.

“Jinx,” Amber said under her breath. “You owe me a coke.”

“After you win,” Morgan shot back confidently. He put up his fist for her to bump before they formally parted ways to their separate rings. He thought about the human furniture, the sea of fellow students, and he thought about Amber, how she seemed to operate on a different, higher frequency. She saw him as more than an interesting zoo exhibit, and he saw her as more than the blonde shadow in Liberty’s orbit.

“You’ve faced this spitting viper before,” Sensei said as he helped Morgan pad up with practiced speed. “Economy of motion. Hunt between the notes.”

Morgan stepped onto the mat where his opponent stood like a coiled viper, moving fluidly, watching Morgan.

“Bow to me!” the official barked. They did so.

“Bow to each other!” They turned and bowed to each other. As more and more competitors crowded into bleachers or floor space to watch a Morgan Sterling-Roth fight, Morgan gave his opponent a slight nod of acknowledgement and respect following the required bow. He knew what it felt like. Two years ago he had been a complete nobody facing a top ranked contender. It was the first time he had successfully pulled off a phantom lead and eked out his first major win.

The crowd seemed to blur into the background, holding its breath like one massive, collective lung as the official raised a hand.