(POV: Sophia)
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The bell rang.
Leo walked off the mat like he'd just finished filing taxes, not accidentally flooring a guy twice his size.
We stared at him in stunned silence as he hopped down and wandered over to us, grabbing his now slightly-squished sandwich from the snack bag like nothing had happened.
"You won," I said, voice flat.
He nodded and took a bite. "Yeah. The guy kept leaving his left side open."
Ava leaned in. "Since when do you know how to fight?"
Leo shrugged. "I picked up a few things while traveling. Took some lessons when I was in Kyoto. Nothing serious."
"That didn't look unserious," Ava muttered. "That looked like something you unlock in a video game after beating four side quests."
Before we could pry further, the organizer jogged over. "Hey! L-Train, right? We're bumping you to the next bracket. Fighter turnout's low, and you've got a crowd now."
Leo blinked. "Okay."
And just like that, our quiet Sunday volunteering gig turned into a front-row seat at The Leo Show.
The second fight was against a guy who came in doing neck stretches like he was about to audition for an action movie. The kind of man who grunts when he breathes.
Leo let the guy swing first. Not because he was polite—well, okay, maybe partly that—but because he was watching. Calculating.
The opponent came in all puffed-up aggression, swinging hard. Leo dodged most of it with frustrating ease, then a duck, a quick jab to the side, a controlled sweep—and boom. He executed a clean takedown like he was settling a minor inconvenience..
The ref looked confused. Leo helped the guy up.
"Good posture," he said.
Good posture? What is this, a yoga retreat?
The third match—same story. This time the opponent actually tried to feint. Leo didn't buy it. Stepped forward instead of back and stopped the guy with a low sweep that made the crowd wince in collective sympathy.
By the time the match ended, Leo had gone from "random volunteer" to "event legend."
"He's gonna mess up eventually," he muttered, arms crossed, as Leo casually countered a spinning elbow with a shoulder toss. "He has to."
"He literally just caught a kick with one hand," Ava said, awe creeping into her voice. "I don't think he's going to mess up."
"I feel like we should be... more alarmed," I whispered.
"I am alarmed," Ava whispered back. "I just can't stop watching."
It was weird. Leo didn't fight like someone trying to win. He fought like someone trying not to lose by accident. There was no flash. No yelling. Just clean, precise moves. He dodged, blocked, hit when he had to—but only enough to end the match. Never more.
The fourth match was the semifinals.
His opponent? A girl named Suki who had actual professional training and already on the mat, stretching. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Confident. She cracked her neck, rolled her wrists, and gave Leo a brief nod. And unlike the others, she didn't underestimate him.
Leo stepped onto the mat.
She raised a brow. "You just here for the fun?"
"Originally came for the free snacks. This was kind of an accident."
Suki laughed. "Well, snack guy—don't hold back. I hate soft wins."
"Sure."
Bell rang.
They circled each other for a while. Leo smiled, polite. She didn't.
Then—bam. She went in hard. She didn't test the waters—she splashed in. Quick combo. Leo deflected most of it, caught her wrist mid-swing, used the momentum to shift behind her and almost managed a takedown before she slipped free.
The crowd lost it.
At one point, Leo blocked a spinning elbow, caught her arm, but she slipped out with a clean shoulder roll and tapped his ribs with a low kick. He winced. Nodded.
"Nice one."
"Likewise."
They grinned. Actual, respectful, slightly insane grins.
The match ended when Suki attempted a flying knee, Leo dodged, and landed a perfectly timed counter that flipped her onto her back.
He immediately offered her a hand.
She took it, smiling wide.
"That was the most fun I've had losing in a while."
Leo patted her arm. "You almost had me."
"You fight like you're solving a riddle," she said. "It's irritatingly effective."
"I'll take that as a compliment."
"Final round's in ten," the announcer said.
Leo sat down next to us, sipping from a questionable sports drink. I could see a bruise forming on his side, but he didn't mention it.
Ava offered him a granola bar. "You good?"
"Yeah. That last one was tough. Fun, though."
I blinked. "Fun."
Then came the finals.
The last opponent looked like he'd been carved out of granite and dipped in rage. His name? Donny "The Wreck." Which didn't bode well.
But Leo? Still calm. Still collected. As if none of this was real.
The match started fast. Donny hit hard—brute strength, pure aggression. Leo took a few glancing hits but used the guy's momentum against him. It was like watching someone outwit a storm.
Round two—Donny came in harder.
Leo took one hit to the shoulder, absorbed another on the side. His steps got slower, more calculated.
Then Donny launched a body slam.
Leo slid sideways, stepped in, locked his arms, and flipped him straight onto the mat.
The mat trembled.
Silence.
Then the bell.
The announcer's voice cracked from excitement. "Your surprise champion—L-TRAIN!"
And chaos.
The crowd exploded. People shouting, whistling, even a few cameras out. Someone started throwing confetti—where did they get confetti?
Leo raised one hand in the air like he'd just returned someone's lost wallet.
"That was... something," I said.
He looked exhausted but satisfied. "Yeah."
"Are you okay?" Ava asked, her voice softer.
Leo blinked. "Yeah. Just bruised."
Fifteen minutes later, we were walking down the street. Leo had a sports drink in one hand and a trophy tucked under his arm like an umbrella. He looked like someone who'd just finished a light jog, not survived a four-round martial arts bracket.
Ethan muttered, "This started because you wanted chips."
Leo nodded. "And now I have a smoothie coupon. So, technically, I upgraded."
I shook my head, watching him walk ahead, casually swinging the trophy by its base like it was a shopping bag.
We'd shown up to volunteer.
We left with a champion.
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End of Chapter 39.