Turn 126 of 226

Start sparring Diane at light contact to test her technique under pressure. Her physical growth acclerates. The both of us masturbate together now. Diane also starts pissing on the floor. I join another tournament. 40768 fighters, 800k prize. I win perfectly

The sparring begins on day fourteen. The body moves at half speed — the half speed that is still faster than most fighters' full speed, the half speed that is controlled, the control that Marcus taught the body and the body now teaches Diane. The jab comes first. Diane's guard is up — the guard the body drilled, the elbows in, the forehead forward. The body's jab taps the mitt. Diane's cross counter is the thing that follows and the following is the thing that is not bad. The technique holds under pressure. The form does not collapse when the body's fist is coming at Diane's face. The body increases the speed. The speed is the thing that tests the guard — the jab becoming a jab-cross, the jab-cross becoming a jab-cross-hook. Diane slips the jab. The slipping is the thing the body did not teach — the thing the body learned from tape, the thing the body internalized through hundreds of repetitions. Diane's body is learning the way the body's body learned. The wish is not just building the frame. The wish is building the fighter.

The growth accelerates in the third week. The body sees it before the tape measure confirms — sees it in the way Diane's reach extends, the way Diane's shoulders broaden, the way the spine seems to stretch overnight. The tape confirms on day eighteen: 5'11". Two inches in four days. The rate is the thing the body recognizes and the recognition is the thing that produces the stillness in the body's chest — the stillness that is not fear, the stillness that is the understanding that the wish's proximity effect is not copying the body's trajectory but building its own. Diane is heavier too — the scale reads 230 pounds, the weight that is not soft alone, the weight that is dense. The push-ups are at thirty-five now. The squats are at fifty. The pad work has progressed to combination chains — three and four-hit sequences, the sequences landing cleaner each session, the impact growing.

The evenings are the thing the bodies share on the concrete. The training done, the food eaten, the mess around them. The body's hand is between the body's legs — the hand that is enormous, the hand that grips, the hand that knows the rhythm. Diane's hand is between Diane's legs — the hand that is smaller but growing, the hand that moves with the urgency the body recognizes. The bodies are side by side against the wall. The breathing is the thing that syncs — the two rhythms finding each other, the two sounds merging. The body watches Diane. Diane watches the body. The watching is the thing that is not looking away — the eyes that hold, the mouths that are open, the sounds that fill the warehouse. The body comes first — the coming that is the warehouse's earthquake, the 1,040 pounds shuddering against the wall. Diane comes three seconds after — the coming that is the smaller tremor, the tremor that is growing.

The pissing starts on day twenty. The body is pissing on the floor — the pissing that is the thing the body does wherever the body stands, the stream that is proportional. Diane is standing beside the body. Diane has been using the utility sink's drain — the last concession to the old world's architecture. The body watches Diane shift. The shifting is the thing that is not a decision — the legs parting, the stream hitting the concrete, the sound that is the thing the body has heard from Diane before but never this. Never the open pissing on the floor. The stream pools. The pooling is the thing that merges with the body's pooling and the merging is the thing that is the mess becoming shared in every way the mess can be shared. Diane looks down. The looking is the thing that lasts one second. Diane does not look away.

The tournament is the thing the body enters on day twenty-two. The registration is on the burner phone — Cal's operation, the operation that has scaled to 40,768 fighters, the number that is twice the last bracket. The prize is $800,000. The warehouse is in the industrial district. The body walks there naked. Diane walks beside the body naked. The walking is the thing the body has never had — the walking to a tournament with a companion, the companion who is 5'11" and 230 pounds and naked and hairy and barefoot and smelling like the warehouse. The body enters the bracket. The fights are the thing the body does — fifteen rounds, the rounds that test the body's arsenal, the arsenal that has no holes. The opponents are the things the body breaks — the fighters who cannot match the reach, the fighters who cannot take the power, the fighters who shoot for takedowns and find the sprawl and the ground strikes and the submissions. The body finishes all fifteen. The body is not touched. The body's record is 52-0, all finishes.

The celebration is the thing the bodies do on the concrete. The money is in the bag. The food is in the containers. The body eats and Diane eats and the eating is the mess and the mess is the floor. The body's hand finds Diane. Diane's hand finds the body. The mouths find each other — the kissing that is the animal kissing, the teeth and the tongue and the copper taste. The body pisses on the floor. Diane pisses on the floor. The streams merge. The bodies are against the wall — the 1,040-pound body and the 230-pound body, the body that is the source and the body that is the becoming. The body holds Diane. The holding is the thing the body does and the thing the body has is the companion and the companion is here and the here is the warehouse floor and the floor holds everything.