Anthony followed.
Then Anthony discovered professional kickboxing.
Money.
Crowds.
Attention.
He loved all three.
Walter cornered him.
At first, everything worked.
Seven wins.
One loss.
Another four wins.
Then Anthony began hiding injuries.
Headaches.
Blurred vision.
Nausea.
Walter noticed.
"Doctor."
"I'm fine."
"No."
"Walt."
"You got dropped twice last month."
"I'm fighting Friday."
"No."
Anthony smiled.
"You're my brother, not my father."
That sentence ended the conversation.
Friday night, Anthony fought.
Second round.
Hard right hand.
He stumbled.
Walter climbed onto the apron between rounds.
"Stop."
Anthony's coach shook his head.
"He's fine."
Walter looked into his brother's eyes.
They weren't right.
"Ant."
"I'm okay."
"You promise?"
Anthony smiled.
"Promise."
Third round.
Another knockdown.
Anthony stood.
Fourth round.
He collapsed without being hit.
Brain hemorrhage.
He died in hospital twelve hours later.
The commission later found Anthony had sustained previous concussions.
The doctor believed accumulated injury contributed.
Walter blamed everyone.
Coach.
Promoter.
Officials.
Then himself.
Most of all himself.
Because Anthony had said he was fine.
Walter had known he wasn't.
Yet he allowed the round to continue.
After the funeral, Walter stopped competing.
Then coaching.
Then entering martial arts schools altogether.
Years passed.
Marriage.
Daughter.
Factory work.
Divorce.
His mother died.
Life moved.
His daughter, Rebecca, became a physical therapist.
Walter eventually returned to Granite Peak because David needed someone reliable managing the building.
Not coaching.
Never coaching.
That condition mattered.
He could exist near martial arts without being responsible for athletes.
For eleven years, that worked.
Then Dylan Cross appeared.
A talented teenager with a difficult home life and enormous hunger.
Walter watched from the edges.
He saw Dylan grow.
Win.
Change.
He also saw David become increasingly afraid to restrain him.
Granite Peak needed Dylan's reputation.
Membership.
Sponsors.
Competition results.
Familiar story.
Different decade.
That was why Walter finally stepped onto the mat.
Not because Dylan mocked him.
Walter had survived worse.
Because Dylan had spent that morning humiliating people who trusted the gym.
And everyone with authority had allowed it to become entertainment.
Walter knew where unchecked pride could lead.
He had buried one brother already.
He had no intention of watching another young man build his identity around being unable to lose.
By Sunday morning, Walter Hayes had become internet content.
Someone posted the four-second throw.
Then the second round.
Title:
COCKY BLACK BELT CHALLENGES JANITOR — INSTANT REGRET.
Eight million views in forty-eight hours.
Walter discovered this from Rebecca.
His daughter called at six in the morning.
"Dad."
"Morning."
"Why are you throwing influencers?"
Walter closed his eyes.
"Goodbye, Rebecca."
"Don't you dare."
He sighed.
"I didn't know he was an influencer."
"Four hundred thousand followers."
"That sounds exhausting."
Rebecca laughed.
Then became serious.
"You stepped on a mat."
"Yes."
"You haven't done that in..."
"Long time."
"Are you okay?"
Walter understood what she meant.
Anthony.
"I think so."
"You told me you'd never—"
"I told myself."
Rebecca softened.
"Why him?"
Walter looked through the kitchen window.
"Because nobody was telling him no."
Silence.
Rebecca knew her father too well.
"You're thinking about Uncle Anthony."
"Some."
"Dad, Dylan isn't Anthony."
"I know."
"You're not responsible for him."
"I know."
"You sound like you don't."
Walter smiled faintly.
"Therapists' daughters."
"I'm not your therapist."
"Good."
"Because you don't pay enough."
At Granite Peak, things were worse.
Dylan's comments filled with ridicule.
Memes.
Slow-motion edits.
People calling him fake.
His sponsors asked for explanations.
One paused a campaign.
Dylan responded with a livestream.
"I wasn't going hard."
Walter did not watch.
"But apparently this guy has decades of hidden experience and nobody told me."
That was true.
Then Dylan made the mistake.
"He set me up."
David watched the clip and closed his eyes.
Lisa Morgan, one of Granite Peak's senior instructors, said:
"He's blaming Walter?"
"Yes."
"Of course."
Later that afternoon, Walter entered carrying cleaning supplies.
Dylan waited near reception.
"Can we talk?"
Walter stopped.
"About?"
"The video."
"I don't control the internet."
"You could tell people what really happened."
Walter frowned.
"What happened?"
"You trained professionally."
"Yes."
"You didn't tell me."
"You didn't ask."
Dylan's jaw tightened.
"You knew I thought you were a beginner."
"No."
Walter looked at him.
"You thought I was nothing."
Dylan flinched.
Walter continued walking.
"Different problem."
Dylan followed.
"Just make a statement."
"What statement?"
"That it wasn't a real match."
"It wasn't."
Dylan looked relieved.
Walter added:
"It was supposed to be a joke at my expense."
Relief vanished.
Walter opened the maintenance closet.
Dylan stood in the doorway.
"Do you hate me?"
Walter looked genuinely surprised.
"No."
"Everyone thinks you're trying to teach me some lesson."
"I was."
"What?"
Walter put cleaning bottles onto a shelf.
"That you can survive embarrassment."
Dylan laughed bitterly.
"Easy for you."
Walter turned.
"No."
His eyes became serious.
"That's something I learned by burying people."
Dylan's anger disappeared.
Walter shut the closet.
"Ask David about Anthony."