Dolores Reales

Felina listened intently to each word that left her cousin’s lips. Even as nice as Carmen had always been to her, Felina suspected that even she had likely not always thought highly of her choices as a fighter, and greatly appreciated her honesty about it. And it was a surprisingly enlightening thing to hear. Maybe many of those who’d doubted her back home had felt the same: not necessarily that Felina didn’t have what it took to be a fighter, but that the way she’d gone about it had been untraditional and far outside of their expectations.

But the praise Carmen then gave her undoubtedly meant the most to Felina. She’d always looked up to her cousin as a role model. Anyone in the world could’ve said exactly what Carmen was saying now, but hearing it from her made it carry infinitely more weight than it would’ve coming from anyone else. It brought another small smile to her face, and this time it stuck much longer. “Thanks, Carmen.” she said, wiping her eyes once again with the back of her hand.

And then her thoughts returned to Daisuke as Carmen mentioned him. She was right. He was a brat, and Felina couldn’t believe she’d let that brat get so far under her skin! Losing a fight to the guy was one thing. But screwing with her head the way he had? Oh, no. He deserved an ass kicking, and suddenly the idea of administering it was sounding a lot more appealing than forfeiting the match. And a small grin formed on her lips. Her eyes were still red from the crying, and she still looked like a mess. But thanks to Carmen, she’d found her confidence.

“Hey, how about we head to the gym? I need to start getting ready for my match.”