Drizzle and Showers, Downpour of Rain

“Huh?!” Val woke up in a cold sweat. She looked around. There was something on her eye. Bandages? Her head ached as if somebody had hammered her face with nails. A figure was next to the bed, but she couldn’t see too clearly. “Coach?” she croaked. “Is that you?”

“Val?” He stirred from his slumber. “Are you fine?”

“What… happened?”

“It’s alright, lass. Take a rest. We’re home. We’re back at the gym.”

“Coach, what happened?” She could feel her heart beating a little faster. Her eyes started to water. “The fight. What happened to the fight?” She clenched her teeth hard; her hands balled into tight fists. She already knew the answer. She knew the moment she had woken up. The events of the fight immediately started playing on repeat. The moment of the punch, the fall…

Coach softly patted her hands rhythmically with the pitter-patter of the drizzling rain outside. The steady taps of the water droplets on the window was soothing. She felt something soaking through her bandages.

She pinched herself in the arm. The pain would distract her for the moment. And instead, she focused on the storm—that torrential downpour of sad memories… It was an ambience that helped cleanse her thoughts.

“Here. Take one.” Coach pulled out a small pill from the drawer. “Breakfast tablet.”

It was one of those pills that had replaced conventional meals.

“And this.” He pulled out a few more capsules and held them out. He placed a bottle of water on the bedside table next to her. “For your injuries.”

Painkillers… She reached over but fumbled to grab the pills. Her hand accidentally slapped them away; the capsules clattered to the floor.

“Ah, that’s fine. I got it.” He leaned over to pick them up. “You’ll have to get used to that for now.”

My eyes… She had missed the pills that had been placed right in front of her.

“Here you go.” He handed them over again.

This time, Val steadied herself before nabbing the pills. Then she swallowed the colorful assortment of medication with a gulp of water.

“It’s my fault, lass. I knew we should’ve waited.”

“No…” Her nails bit into her palms. “I could’ve won. If I just—just put up my arms higher…” She wanted to scream. So loudly. She couldn’t stand her pitiful state.

“It’s not your fault.”

No… The pain kept eating away at her. It felt like maggots were crawling through her skull, chewing and ripping away at her sanity. Even the sound of rain couldn’t stop the memories from pouring back.

“I should’ve trained you more for clin—”

She jumped out of bed.

“Val?”

She stumbled forward, heaving herself towards the back door.

“Val! It’s raining!”

She walked out into the pouring rain and screamed. A wild, visceral scream that was muted by the deafening roars of thunder. She screamed and screamed until her throat became sore. She yelled as if her life depended on it. Then she fell to her knees and smashed her fists into the mud. Smashed until her tears stopped falling…

It was over. Her dream was over. It was all futile anyways from the very beginning… It wasn’t going to happen. A lowly thief like her? Champion? She scoffed at the thought. And the ashen skies laughed at her too, mocking her efforts in waves of stinging, acidic rain.

Then the dizziness returned, and she collapsed.

…

Coach pulled an arm off the wall and cleaned out the accumulated dust. It was a detailed, intricately designed steampunk-styled cybernetic from long ago that had eventually gone out of style. Now, it was more of a modern art piece than an actual functioning arm.

Since they had a small storage and bedroom in the back of the gym, Coach would display his most valued possessions on the wall. He was an arms dealer in the past, so he had a hobby of collecting and refurbishing artificial body parts that he’d picked up from the junkyard nearby. Said something along the lines of having wanted to make a cybernetic framework for himself when he was young. He had once wanted to replace parts of his body for a taller and more robust physique to accomplish his dreams of competing in the ring.

That never happened.

Instead, he started collecting as a hobby, and ended up twiddling with used, mechanical components. Apparently, fixing and handling the parts that he had dreamed of using for himself actually helped relieve some of the pent-up stress he had of not being physically apt enough for boxing.

Coach suddenly groaned as he pulled the steampunk display arm off from the wall. Then he packed it tightly into his duffle bag. He took another one of his collections off—a leg this time—and placed it firmly inside too.

“Coach?” There was a nervous edge to Val’s voice. “What are you doing?”

“Here.” He walked over to the bed and handed over a keycard. It was the key to the gym. “You helped me buy this place. I think it’s only fair—”

“What? No! No, you keep it.” She pushed the card back into his hands. “You’re the coach.”

“I’m—I’m thinkin’ about leaving.”

“What?” She was completely taken aback. “Why? Is it because I lost? I’ll do better! I promise—”

“Val! Lass… It’s fine.” He softly patted her on the shoulders. “It’s not because of you. I… just don’t deserve to be your coach, Val. I don’t deserve any of this. I’ve failed you.”

“What are you saying?! I thought you said we were going to make it together!”

“You’ve learned everything there is for me to teach! Don’t you get it, lass? I’m holding you back! I can’t help you anymore.” He picked up his duffle bag and headed for the door. “With that record of yours, I’m sure you can find a better coach. Just after you fix that eye.”

“No!” She fell off the bed. “No, I don’t want that! I want you!” She grabbed onto his bag and held tight. “You’re the only coach I need!”

“Val… I—”

“Don’t go. Please, don’t leave me,” she quietly begged. “Please stay…”

Coach let out a deep sigh. He gazed blankly at the ceiling before dropping his bag.

“Are you—are you staying?”

He slowly made his way towards the exit again.

“Coach?” He hadn’t taken the bag. What was he doing? “Coach, where’re you going?”

He turned around. There was a faint smile on his face. “I’m not going anywhere, lass.”

“You’re… not? But why—”

“I can’t be leavin’ you here when you’re lookin’ like that.” He grunted. “I’ll leave once you’ve settled down some more. In the meantime, I’m getting some simulasets.”

“Simula…sets?”

“Well, we gotta make money to fix your eye somehow.”

“You aren’t leaving?”

“Course not.” He chuckled. “Have a little faith, lass. It’s only been five years since we’ve been together.”

“I know that…” She was somewhat relieved, but there was still a lingering suspicion remaining in her voice. “But what do simulasets have to do with money?”

“You’ll see. Just trust me.” He pulled open the door. The humid, afternoon breeze rushed in to fill the air. “I got a plan to get that eye of yours fixed in no time.”