Like Flowing Water
"Why are you... of all people, here?"
Moon Tae-jeong's eyes went wide with shock.
"What brings you here?"
"I came to work out. If you'll allow it, I thought we could train together and maybe get some sparring in."
He probably wouldn't refuse.
"...We are rather short-staffed, I suppose."
As expected, he muttered the words while glancing around the gym. Just as he'd said, there were only two other people in the building.
And judging by their form and technique, even those two looked like they belonged to the athletes' division. They were stealing glances at us.
Two athletes' division members at this hour?
Our gym's owner sighed often enough as it was, but attendance this dismal in the general membership meant things were in genuinely dire straits.
From what I could see on Moon Tae-jeong's Instagram, it didn't seem like the gym had always been like this — it looked like things had spiraled after our incident at the hotel, when a flood of borderline-hateful reviews had piled up.
Well, he'd brought it on himself, but still...
"Well, this is a treat. It's not even a case of giving someone a disease and then selling them the cure. You act like I wasn't even worth your time."
I shrugged.
"I said I'd fight anyone as long as they were strong. I just picked the more appealing option out of what the organizations offered me."
"You're a popular YouTuber with subscriber numbers skyrocketing, and you think filming this kind of thing with me gets you anything?"
"It's fun, isn't it? Seems like good content."
"My point is you've got more to lose than to gain."
"Better than feeling uneasy."
Then I added a subtle jab.
"Speaking of which, that surprises me. I didn't expect someone so calculating to make such a reckless self-destructive play."
"That incident is what made me calculating."
"Ah."
"I'm at middleweight right now for my natural build. You don't seem to do any weight cutting for your fights either, so you sure you're fine with this? Not that I care."
"It's just sparring."
"That's not how people will see it."
"Don't care."
"That's manly of you."
Moon Tae-jeong nodded.
"So then — should we just get straight to sparring?"
"No. I'd rather not cause trouble for your other athletes too."
I jerked my chin toward the whiteboard with the training schedule written on it.
"I'll do it exactly as it says there. There's a sparring session at the end anyway."
"...You're seriously planning to participate in the entire training session?"
"Yes. Let me change clothes first."
"Then the filming—"
"My friend's at the cafe across the street. She'll come over and shoot it."
"Ah, right."
Moon Tae-jeong answered halfheartedly, then said:
"You're the more meticulous one, I think."
"Me?"
Well, I'd never really agonized over anything in particular. I just moved as my heart led me. If that came across as meticulous, maybe it simply meant I had a good head on my shoulders?
"Anyway, I'll go change."
As I changed out of my school uniform into training clothes, I called Kang Ji-won. She'd been parked at the cafe on the other side of the building, earning the hourly wage I'd promised her, and she scurried over to the gym the moment I called.
"Hello!"
"Oh! Nice to see you!"
"You should work out with us."
Since this was a wolves' den with testosterone hanging thick in the air, everyone greeted Kang Ji-won with great enthusiasm — but she politely demurred.
"I'm fine, thank you. I'm just here to film."
Employed by me, Kang Ji-won approached her duties with a thoroughly professional attitude.
"Alright! Then let's start over with warm-ups—"
Moon Tae-jeong clapped his hands and resumed the class.
Moon Tae-jeong stood side by side with the two athletes' division members, watching Shin Yugyeom leap over the pommel horse, his feelings a tangled mess. Even so, he called out as he always did.
"One!"
"Hup!"
The athletes dropped into sprawls, swept the floor, and sprang back up.
"Five seconds! One, two, three, four, five..."
While Moon Tae-jeong counted, everyone threw punches and raised their knees in shadow work. And then—
"Tuck jumps!"
"Hah!"
Tap!
Everyone pulled their knees up to their chests and leapt in place. That completed one set.
"Horse stance—"
The athletes pivoted instantly into rapid shuffle steps in place. And then—
"One!"
Without a moment's rest, straight into the next set.
His flexibility and elasticity are remarkable. He keeps his center of gravity controlled even on landing.
Moon Tae-jeong watched Shin Yugyeom execute the movements faster and smoother than the two athletes, and marveled inwardly.
"Does Jun-gyeong hyungnim teach it the same way?"
"No."
Shin Yugyeom had already circled back to the horse stance and answered.
"Whew, hah... that was a real workout. This is tough."
"So your conditioning isn't exactly your strong suit, I see."
Moon Tae-jeong asked:
"You okay with showing me your weaknesses?"
"Isn't it all public knowledge at this point?"
Once again, Shin Yugyeom answered with disarming boldness.
"If knowing my weakness still isn't enough to stop me — hoo... then that just comes down to a gap in skill, doesn't it?"
Moon Tae-jeong, who had never once thought about fighting that way, frowned.
"One!"
He resumed the class, tilting his head in thought.
How many fighters out there actually can't be stopped even when you know what's coming?
It was hard to believe.
"Two!"
Tap—
He asked again, addressing Shin Yugyeom as he returned to the horse stance.
"By your logic, why would anyone need a tailored strategy? Wouldn't it be enough to just drill what you're good at until you drop?"
"Strategy is... hooah... about analyzing your opponent's stance and style, their most-used patterns and rhythm. So I can deploy my weapons at the right moment."
"Not about equipping new weapons?"
"If your opponent can't grapple — hoo, hah... a striker can't just become a grappler overnight. You adjust the weighting."
"You use everything, though."
Shin Yugyeom nodded.
"Because fighting in all different ways is fun for me."
"You're good at all of it?"
Instead of answering, Shin Yugyeom simply smiled. A smile brimming with confidence.
"You've been at this for what, five minutes? A guy who's already gassed from this level of training really is arrogant. Fine, let's say we accept your precious little weapons — how do you plan to fix your conditioning? Got some secret method?"
"I already showed you."
"What?"
When Moon Tae-jeong asked, Shin Yugyeom — drenched in sweat and panting hard after thirty straight sets of warm-ups — answered:
"The Four-Drone."
"..."
Any flicker of attraction Moon Tae-jeong had felt toward Shin Yugyeom's bold, grudge-free attitude evaporated on the spot.
I knew it. I don't like this kid.
It was too much. The confidence.
No — it wasn't even confidence.
Sheer bravado.
Past boldness and straight into insolence.
"That's enough."
Everyone stopped their warm-ups and let out a light breath.
"Since we have an esteemed guest today, we'll do sparring first instead of drills, then use what we learn in sparring for the drills afterward. Our athlete Shin Yugyeom here is going to demonstrate it for you personally. How to overcome a lack of conditioning. How to fight so you can finish your opponent fast. And how to make use of different disciplines depending on your opponent. You two have sparred with me plenty, so it should hit home a little better for you."
Everyone nodded, looking pleased — everyone except Shin Yugyeom. He wore a mildly disappointed expression as he spoke.
"I was fine with finishing the full class before sparring."
"You're already exhausted enough as it is. Get wrecked in sparring and then we'll see if you're still making excuses."
"Sure, whatever."
"Seung-yong, you referee."
"Yes, sir!"
I sat on the mat and got ready for sparring. Meanwhile, Kang Ji-won, who'd been filming, came over.
"Athlete Shin Yugyeom, you're already soaked in sweat! And that guy's way bigger than you — not to mention the tattoos and that terrifying face. Can you actually beat him?"
"Sparring is about improving your skills. Winning or losing is beside the point."
"You're not setting yourself up an excuse, are you?"
I smirked and rose to my feet. Across from me, Moon Tae-jeong stood as well, popped in his mouthguard, and came forward.
"Three rounds, three minutes each. Okay?"
I could read the thought in his eyes: If he gasses out, I'll beat him down one-sidedly.
"Yes."
As I nodded, I tapped my sparring finger gloves — still with real padding over the knuckles — against his.
Tap.
"Fight!"
Seung-yong from the athletes' division shouted.
With that, Moon Tae-jeong advanced, feinting with his lead hand. I swept it aside and threw up a front kick.
Thwack!
At the same instant, Moon Tae-jeong's counter jab snapped out.
Smack!
A heavy fist slammed into my guard. Then came his rear straight, followed by a lead hook in relentless succession.
Thud-thud!
I absorbed the two straights with my guard, and the instant the hook came flying in, I dropped my level and shot in for the takedown.
Whoosh—
Just as I'd practiced earlier, I wrapped up his legs while pulling my hips in tight and pressing my body against his. Unable to bear my weight, he wobbled. The moment I pivoted and chased him in that direction, his balance collapsed completely, and as he toppled he snaked one arm around my neck and pulled me over with him.
Boom!
Even as he hit the floor, he braced my weight with both legs and hurled me backward — angling for a position switch even as he went over.
But I didn't resist at all; I let myself be thrown. Instead, using my head, which had been driven into the mat, as my central axis, I brought my flying legs around and flipped my upended body back over. From side control, I draped my upper body over him face-down.
From above, our bodies crossed in the shape of a crucifix. The violent motion had loosened the arm he'd wrapped around my neck, opening my airway again. In that window, I pinned his opposite arm — the one trying to lock in his grip — under my knee, then quietly snaked both of my legs around it.
"Ugh."
One arm trapped between my thighs, his opposite shoulder locked under one of mine — he thrashed and clawed desperately to slide out from underneath. But like Jesus nailed to the cross, both his arms were bound, and lying on his back staring up at the ceiling, he couldn't escape me.
For me, on the other hand, things were relatively comfortable. No matter how much weight he carried over me, his entire upper body was under my complete control — he couldn't push my full body weight off with core strength alone. On top of that, with both of his arms tied up, I used my one free hand, clenched into a fist, to tap away at his face.
Thud! Thwack!
It was barely more than a light touch, but he had no choice but to eat the shots with his head turned away, not daring to look forward. And as the third and fourth strikes piled up—
"Tap!"
Moon Tae-jeong shouted.
"You saw it, right?"
Only then did I release the hold and ask.
"See what?"
Moon Tae-jeong shot back, his face flushed with embarrassment. And it wasn't just him — I could feel everyone in the room straining to listen in, so I raised my volume enough for all of them to hear.
"All I used was a guard, a timing takedown, and a submission."
"...!"
"I wasn't completely gassed, but I figured burning a lot of energy was too risky."
"That's exactly why I thought you wouldn't do wrestling."
"That was the whole point. The stereotype that wrestling means using tons of strength."
"Ah!"
"That's why the timing takedown landed so easily. I could drive the stake in without expending any real power."
"Stake? The crucifix?"
Apparently people call it the crucifix nowadays. By the sound of it, it seems like a jiu-jitsu technique.
But ancient wrestling — not the modern, point-scoring sport, but the kind whose goal was to utterly destroy your opponent — had a similar technique of its own. In Greek it was called stauros — the cross, the stake.
I recalled that and gave a noncommittal nod, and Moon Tae-jeong shook his head vigorously.
"You've got insane talent. 'Good at everything' — doesn't that just mean that depending on how your opponent comes at you, these weapons pop right out of nowhere? Striking or grappling. Nobody can copy this style. It really would be fun to fight you..."
"The core of it is that any situation can be fought your way, as long as you have a few weapons you trust. That's the key."
"I told you I wanted to step into the cage with you, remember?"
"I do."
"Not anymore."