The toilet flushed behind her with a hollow roar, the sound swallowed almost instantly by the constant hum of the plane.
Lena was squatted by the toilet before she quickly lifted her body up and pulled up her pants. She had a limit to how dirty things could be.
She moved to the small sink, turning the tap with practiced efficiency. Cold water rushed over her fingers, washing away the faint stickiness of the flight.
She stared at her reflection in the narrow mirror.
It was slightly warped, the lighting too bright and too pale, but it was still her.
Hair pulled back into a low, tight ponytail—strands already slipping loose from hours of travel. Her skin looked tired, a faint dullness under her eyes, but her gaze—
Sharp.
Awake.
Focused.
She wore a fitted black zip-up jacket, slightly unzipped at the collar, revealing a plain white tank underneath. Dark grey joggers hugged her legs, loose enough for comfort but still structured, and her shoes—simple black trainers—perfect for any occasion in her eyes.
Comfortable.
Practical.
Her hands moved automatically—soap, rinse, dry. She flexed her fingers slightly under the air dryer, watching the skin stretch and tighten. Still calloused.
She turned away before the mirror could hold her any longer.
The aisle felt tighter than usual as she stepped back into it, the plane gently vibrating beneath her feet. Passengers shifted in their seats, some already reaching for bags, others craning their necks toward the windows.
Lena moved forward with quiet precision, brushing past shoulders and elbows, her hand occasionally catching the tops of seats to steady herself.
Row 27.
Her row.
Her mom sat in the aisle seat, legs crossed slightly, phone in hand as always. She looked up briefly.
"There you are."
Lena didn't answer, just slipped past her and into the window seat, pulling her legs in as she sat down.
The second she settled, the ding of the seatbelt sign sounded.
A moment later, the overhead speakers crackled to life.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we are now beginning our descent into Tokyo, Japan. Please ensure your seatbelts are fastened and your seats are in the upright position…"
Lena clicked her seatbelt in without looking, her hand moved to the window.
Outside—
Clouds.
Soft. Endless. White.
But beneath them—
Land.
Tokyo.
It grew slowly at first, shapes barely visible through the thinning clouds. Then sharper—lines, roads, buildings packed tightly together.
Her eyes locked onto it.
This was it.
Not just another place.
Not just another competition.
This—
Was where everything led.
Her fingers pressed lightly against the cool window.
"Lena, look—"
Her mom's voice cut in, followed by a light, repetitive pat against her arm.
Lena didn't move at first.
Then slowly turned her head.
Her mom had her phone tilted toward her, already playing a video.
A judo clip.
Two athletes gripping, circling—
"See this?" her mom said, tapping the screen. "Watch how she sets up the entry—this could be really useful for you—"
Lena's jaw tightened slightly.
Not again.
"I've seen it," she said flatly.
"No, but look—"
"I know."
Her voice came out sharper this time.
Her mom paused for half a second.
Then—
"But it's good to review—especially before Worlds—"
Lena turned back to the window.
She didn't raise her voice.
Didn't argue. She knew better than to be an ungrateful child who yelled at their parents.
She just reached into her pocket, pulled out her headphones, and slid them on.
Music filled her ears instantly, drowning everything else out.
Her mom was still talking.
She could see it from the corner of her eye—the movement of her lips, the slight gestures—but Lena didn't listen.
She couldn't.
Wouldn't.
Instead, she focused on the city below. Tokyo stretched endlessly now, buildings stacking over each other, streets with speeding cars moved like tiny pulses of light.
It was bigger than she imagined.
Busier.
The plane dipped lower.
Closer.
Her reflection faintly overlapped the city in the glass. A quiet breath slipped from her lips.
I'm here.
—
The landing was smooth. A long, gradual descent, wheels hitting the runway with a controlled impact that sent a brief vibration through the cabin.
Applause broke out somewhere behind them.
Lena ignored it.
She was already unbuckling.
—
Airports always felt the same. Too bright. Too loud. Too many people moving in too many directions.
Lena walked slightly ahead of her mom, hands tucked into her jacket pockets as they moved through the terminal. Signs in Japanese and English flashed overhead, announcements echoing in a language she didn't understand.
Everything felt fast.
But she didn't slow down.
They moved through security, baggage claim, the long wait by the conveyor belt.
Suitcases thudded onto the rotating strip one after another.
Their bags came eventually.
Heavy.
Her mom reached for one—
Lena grabbed both.
"I got it."
Before her mom could argue, Lena had already lifted them, one in each hand, muscles tightening under the weight. She thought it was good practice for her arm strength.
They made their way outside.
The air hit differently.
Cooler.
Cleaner. Much cleaner.
A taxi pulled up not long after, the driver nodding politely as he helped open the trunk. Lena loaded the suitcases in before sliding into the backseat.
The car started moving almost immediately.
Tokyo blurred past the windows—tall buildings, neon signs, narrow streets packed with people and movement.
Her mom turned toward her, already pulling out her phone again.
"Okay, look—this is the place."
She turned the screen toward Lena. Photos of the Airbnb filled it.
Spacious.
Modern.
Clean lines, large windows, multiple rooms.
Lena's brows pulled together slightly. "Why is it so big?"
Her mom hesitated. Just for a second.
"Well…"
That was enough for Lena to notice.
Her eyes shifted toward her slowly.
"What?"
Her mom exhaled softly.
"In about a month… your dad's coming."
The words landed flat.
"And… his family," she added.
Silence.
Lena's gaze dropped forward, her expression going still. Completely still.
"He wants to watch you compete," her mom said carefully. "He wants to be there—"
Lena didn't respond.
Didn't look at her.
But inside—It burned.
Her jaw tightened so hard it hurt.
Of course he does. Now. Now he wants to show up after all the shit he pulled.
Her thoughts spiraled quietly.
He left. He cheated. He built a whole new life like we were nothing.
Her fingers curled into fists against her thighs.
And she—That bitch—is stupid enough to think he won't do the same thing to her. Well I hope he does.
Her chest rose slightly.
But on the outside—Nothing.
No reaction.
No words.
Just silence.
The city kept moving outside.
—
The taxi stopped. The driver stepped out, opening the trunk. Before her mom could even move, Lena was already out of the car, grabbing both suitcases again.
"Lena—"
"I got it."
Her voice was calm.
Too calm.
She carried them up the short path, up the steps, through the front door once it was unlocked.
The Airbnb was just like the photos. Spacious. Clean. Quiet.
She dropped her mom's suitcase gently near the entrance.
Then turned—still holding her own.
She walked down the hallway without a word.
Her room was at the end.
She stepped inside.
Closed the door behind her.
Silence.
For a moment—
Nothing.
Then—
She threw the suitcase.
It hit the floor with a heavy crash.
Lena moved instantly, dropping onto the bed face-first, grabbing a pillow and shoving her face into it as a scream tore out of her—muffled, raw, and sharp.
All of it.
The fight.
The pressure.
Ava.
Her dad.
Everything.
It poured out into that one moment.
Then—
Stillness.
She stayed there, breathing hard into the pillow, her grip slowly loosening.
Seconds passed.
Maybe minutes.
Finally, she rolled onto her back. The ceiling stared down at her, blank and unfamiliar.
Her chest rose and fell slower now.
Her eyes blinked once.
Twice.
Her jaw tightened from anger again. So much energy stuck inside her with nowhere to go.
She sat up slightly, dragging a hand through her hair.
"I need to hit something."