"When I close my eyes, I can still remember it. His figure... his presence... he who was always surrounded by others had a back I could only call 'wide.' He wasn't the largest, nor the eldest, yet it always stood firm... it felt like it would never falter. I was always watching. Even now, I can still remember that feeling, that yearning. I want to be... I need to be-"

A loud slam reverberated in the gymnasium, followed by an even louder applause. As loud and boisterous as the audience was, their reaction was warranted. 

As a combat sport, Judo was focused on throwing your opponent to the ground. While technique would be lauded as the prevailing factor, it was always implicitly understood that one's size and weight would give them a clear advantage in any bout between two practitioners.

So then, it was no surprise than even in this gymnasium, housing but a simple friendly exhibition match between two schools, that a thunderous cheer would ring out upon the sight of a person effortlessly achieve Ippon, a full throw, against a person practically double their size. 

As much as in awe as the curious spectators were, none were more bewildered than the man whose back was sprawled out onto the mat. 

"How did-"

He was left effectively speechless, as though being thrown down had knocked the wind out of his lungs.

The man on the ground was a teenager, 16 years of age. He was youth confident in his body, as any at his level would be. He was the uncontested strongest at his school, and felt confident he could prove the same in this school.

"What just-"

That same youth was still reeling and trying to process what had happened, struggling to complete even a single sentence.

The man was confident, but he was never over confident. He was confident in his physique, but it was his technique that carried him through from match to match. He knew he could win, he simply needed to let his technique speak for itself.

This is all to say that said man was only slightly taller than the average teen. What had left his mouth agape was how short his opponent was.

The figure before him was a mere 4'11, and was currently just nonchalantly moving their arm in circles in an attempt to crack their shoulder. 

Their hair was unkept, but so was it prior to the match. Their gi was pristine, as thought it had just been freshly pressed. Their breathing was steady, not a single hint of physical exhaustion. At this very moment, they were the very text book definition of "-without breaking a sweat."

"Good match." Their voice was confident, yet somewhat high. Some may even say prince-like. With their sharp eyes, they gazed down on their defeated foe, offering them a hand to pick themselves up. Unfortunately-

"_______"

"...Oh"

Their opponent had already fainted. While their spirit had been crushed by their overwhelming defeat, it was more so the force of what he would later recount as "a freight truck slamming me into the ground at 80 kph" that did him in. Regardless, their loss of consciousness had left their opponent to awkwardly withdraw their hand and promptly step off the mat.

"-Amazing!"

Meanwhile, off to the side, another hot blooded youth had been taken in by the exhibition. Their eyes burning with passion, they could scarcely hold their tongue. "That was Amazing! That technique, that speed, THAT POWER! Who even is that?! I've never seen him before?!"

At this avalanche of praise, a figure smirked and sneered behind the youth. He turned around to face the figure and gasped maybe a bit too loud. "COACH?!"

Behind the youth was his coach, who had been eyeing his reaction from the beginning. The coach was a short portly fellow with an unshaven face. Despite being a coach, he forwent the typical tracksuit, or shirt and shorts combo in favour of cheaply made beret and dirty trench coat. 

The coach looked up from his newspaper that had been for the month prior and spoke, "It's no surprise you haven't seen them before, this is the first time they've fought for us, but even I can tell they have experience."

"Coach, what do you mean?! Who are they?!"

"They're a transfer student- only been here for a month. Don't know what their deal is, but you can't deny that raw talent. It's possible they were competing even before coming to this school, but I've never seen 'em in any competition."

Hearing this, the youth's lips pursed and fists clenched. "How?! How could someone so STRONG go unnoticed?!" The youth was passionate in all walks of life, from his studies (regardless of the result) to Judo. What he lacked in raw talent, he made up for in hard work and perseverance. He was no stranger to training for long hours for but a pittance of improvement. And yet he persevered. Small steps added up to great distances, and now the youth could say with his head held high "I am strong."

It was because of his work ethic that the youth understood just by looking at their small figure. Their strength wasn't just raw talent, but talent forged in the fires of hard work. Constant and sincere effort that paved the way to greater heights. It was inspiring. It was moving. And that made it all the more tragic to him that such a person's strength had gone by unnoticed until now.

The victor had finally stepped down and casually walked towards a bench hugging the wall. On top of it was a modest white duffel bag. Before they could reach their belongings, their post had been intercepted by the passionate youth. He spoke with all the fire of the blazing sun, and with the delicacy of a piece of laundry that had yet to be washed. "I have no doubt you're strong, BUT I won't lose that easily! I'll reach the top and surpass you, just watch!"

The youth hadn't even introduced themselves before they made their public challenge. Nonetheless, the victor saw that they were sincere, if not a bit brash.

"There's no need to get hasty..." said the coach, following just behind the youth. Perhaps sensing the same as the victor, he hold the youth back with his hand and a stern look, as though the youth were acting like a territorial guard dog. And though he couldn't match his enthusiasm, the coach shared in his vision.

"But he's right, if it's the two of you, you might be able to become what this school- no, this country needs!"Perhaps he was being somewhat hyperbolic, but his hope was to match his student's enthusiasm even for just a moment.

"So how about it- will you join us in reaching for the top?" The coach reached out his hand towards the victor, asking them to shake his hand. To youth and his coach, this moment would be the dawn of a new era, a complete birth of new era of judo. They looked forward, as though looking at a bright distant star, and in response the object of their hopes-

"Nah," with not even a second glance, walked past the eager pair, opened their duffel bag, and began to nonchalantly dig through their belongings.

As they had been left their with their jaws on the floor, in complete shock and dismay, as time had seemed to stand still for those two, the victor attempted to elaborate "In the first place, I'm just here to fill in for someone who was sick-"

"DON'T WORRY ABOUT HIM, YOU CAN TAKE HIS  PLACE ANYTIME!" With zero hesitation the coach had interjected, to the dismay of said injured member who was currently at home, resting their sprained ankle.

"Hey, don't treat your members like disposable toothbrushes. Poor guy. Besides-"

With no particular urgency or concern, they began to take off the jacket of their gi, revealing the simple black tank top underneath. From the thin layer of clothing, their figure was even more apparent. Though you could see the definitions of their toned body, it had been juxtaposed to their small frame. That being said, the structure and composition of their body was different from what the youth watching had expected.

"I don't think you should be having a girl participate in a men's division exhibition... again, anyways," she said, as she put on a more casual short sleeved hoodie. 

The passionate youth was left speechless. The mysterious figure before them had been a girl the whole time. Now that he was closer to her, he felt somewhat like a doof that he hadn't considered the idea. Her eyes were large, though looked like they were in a constant scowl; her lashes were long, her face was small, and her features were more delicate. At the same time, the youth's mistake was a given. Though she had never said she wasn't female, the implication of participating in a men's division exhibition was that she was a he. He did, of course, recognise what his own eyes saw, and was thus still in awe of her achievement, but nonetheless, he turned to his coach for some answer- an explanation to how this situation came about.

Perhaps the coach could sense his student's plea for answers. However-

"Heh... " A small smirk smeared on their face. "You can't make an omelette without cracking a few eggs."

-if he had, then he ought to have given a better explanation. 

"You're a pretty shitty coach, huh?"

With those words, she had finished neatly folding her gi jacket and packing it into her duffel bag, which she had foisted the strap of around her shoulder. She barely regarded the two as she walked past them, heading for the exit.

For a moment, she pauses and turns her head to slightly look at them. "Anyways, I'm too busy to commit to a club anyways, so I can't. Feel free to ask for my help again if ya need it... but maybe for the women's division next time. It's real annoying every time a club asks me to fill in for a guy." she said with a hint of irritation in her voice, as well as a dismissive glare.  

As they watched her leave the room, a small silence remained between the youth and his coach. The youth's passion had evaporated into a quiet mist, leaving nothing similar to the blazing path he intended on walking.

"DON'T WORRY! We'll convince her eventually, just you see! OUR DREAM ISNT DEAD YET!" In stark contrast, the coach's enthusiasm had reached beyond his peak. He saw this as nothing more than a challenge to overcome, and sought to create the very vision he saw for judo. Of course, in his excitement he neglected the obvious problem.

"No, but it really is against the rules for a girl to play for the Men's division. We'll probably get in trouble if they find out..."

Eventually, the coach's utter disregard for the rules plus some future problematic behaviours had led to his dismissal from the school. He would make claims that he left to pursue his true vision of judo, but the alcohol bottle in his hand would make it difficult to give his words any weight. Of course, this was a story for another time, and not one of any relevance to the solitary girl walking down the school hallway. 

She scrolled through her phone, checking for whatever appointments she made with other sports clubs.

(Oh, baseball next)

And just like that, she casually walked towards the field to make good on her promise. She unsurprisingly hit balls out of the park every time she was up to bat.

Her name was Max, or at least that's what others frequently called her. At 16 years old, she was strong, just as she yearned for. It had been her one pursuit in life, and now none could say she wasn't strong, but even if she was strong, "I could still be stronger."