home

search

Chapter 30: Spotlight

  
Chapter 30

  Spotlight

  My fingers tighten around O-bāchan’s hand. My

  pulse hammers against my ribs, loud enough that I almost miss her voice beneath

  the crowd’s roar.

  “What’s wrong?” she asks, her grip warm, steady.

  I swallow hard. “Didn’t you say she was

  champion…?”

  O-bāchan nods slowly. “Yes…”

  “And didn’t you say the Legionnaires were the

  tag-team champions?”

  Another pause. “Yes…?”

  A cold weight settles in my stomach. My gaze

  snaps back to the ring. Raven Moon stands in the center, her chest rising and

  falling in deep, measured breaths. The female Legionnaire slides toward her,

  arms wrapping around her in an embrace. A moment passes. The sumo slumps into

  the corner, his massive frame heaving with exhaustion. The male Legionnaire,

  already back on his feet, wipes his face with the back of his hand, shoulders

  trembling.

  Then it hits me.

  “Then why…” My voice catches. “Why did none of

  them come out with their title belts?”

  O-bāchan stiffens. Her breath hitches. The

  silence between us is thicker than the cheers beyond it.

  In the ring, Raven Moon lifts her hands, fingers

  trembling. She grips the edges of her mask. The crowd quiets, anticipation

  pressing down like a held breath.

  And then—she pulls it off.

  Gasps ripple through the arena, sharp and

  electric.

  My heart lurches.

  Raven Moon stands in the ring, gripping the

  microphone with trembling fingers.

  "WE LOVE YOU, RAVEN!!" A voice cuts

  through the crowd.

  She smiles, but her eyes glisten under the harsh

  arena lights. She swallows, her voice tight.

  "Everyone…" Her breath shudders.

  "This was my last and final match… as a wrestler, as your wrestler."

  The arena exhales as one. Gasps. Groans. A few

  muffled cries. But no boos. Not a single one.

  She inhales, steadying herself. "As you

  know, a couple of years ago… I had a son, with my husband."

  She turns, gesturing toward the sumo in the

  corner. He lifts a massive hand, waving with an easy grin. The crowd erupts,

  the cheers shaking the rafters.

  "And… I feel it’s time for me to put down

  the mask. Or rather, retire it. In other words… I’m retiring altogether."

  Silence. Heavy. Final.

  Then, from somewhere deep in the stands, a chant

  rises: "Legion! Legion! Legion!"

  Raven chuckles, swiping at a tear. "I

  started with the Legionnaires of Doom," she says, her voice lighter.

  "It only felt right to end my career with those who helped me begin

  it."

  If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

  The four wrestlers embrace, clinging like they

  never want to let go.

  "But before I go…" Raven steps toward

  the ropes, scanning the front row.

  Something about the way she looks out at the

  crowd makes my stomach twist.

  "I heard that one of my favorite idols is in

  attendance?"

  Wait. What?

  Then I see it.

  Grandma and Ruri, holding up a massive cardboard

  sign. Right here.

  Straight at me.

  Blood drains from my face.

  "Hey there, girl…" Raven grins.

  "Want to sing me my favorite song from my favorite artist?"

  The crowd erupts.

  Ruri smirks, leaning in. "Guess your

  disguise didn’t work, ‘Ana the Neko Girl.’"

  I can’t move. My legs refuse.

  Then—

  "Oh, for crying out loud, get up there!"

  O-bāchan shoves me forward.

  For a moment, fear grips me, tight and

  suffocating. My father’s words slam into me, drilled in since childhood.

  "Kurosawa’s don’t perform for free."

  A rule. A warning. A leash.

  But then I look at Raven Moon.

  She watches me, eyes bright, unguarded—hopeful.

  No demand, no expectation. Just the kind of faith that makes something inside

  me shift.

  I remember the livestream—Moon cradling her

  newborn, humming one of my songs, her voice thick with love.

  This isn’t about money. Or fame. Or proving

  anything.

  It’s about this.freedom.

  About family.

  My breath hitches. The weight of the crowd, the

  pressure of the spotlight—it all dulls, shrinking to the space between us.

  I step forward.

  Raven extends her hand. I don’t hesitate. Her

  palm is warm as she pulls me into the ring, where the world feels smaller,

  quieter. Just us.

  The microphone is heavy in my hand. I swallow,

  lift my chin, and let the fear settle. Then, I close my eyes—and sing.

  Sakura petals, soft on the breeze,

  Like whispers of joy through ancient trees.

  


  But deeper still, a light takes its start,

  The smile of the heart, a painted work of art.

  


  Not lips that curve, nor eyes that gleam,

  


  The arena fades. The roaring crowd dims to a

  hush.

  In this moment, it’s just me, Raven Moon, and the

  song.

  And for the first time, I feel free.

  The last note fades, and the arena erupts. Cheers

  crash over me, wave after wave, swelling until they’re all I can hear, all I

  can feel. My heart pounds. My face aches from smiling—really smiling.

  Not the polished, camera-perfect kind. No. This is mine. Raw.

  Unfiltered. The kind that says,

  I open my eyes, the weight of the moment still

  pressing into my skin. Then—my stomach drops.

  Grandma and Ruri are gone.

  I scan the crowd, my pulse spiking, but before I

  can process, a warm hand grips mine—firm, steady. Raven Moon.

  "Come on," she says, already pulling me

  toward the ramp. "Your sister set up a proper meet-and-greet."

  I blink. "My sister?"

  Raven just grins, eyes gleaming. "Yeah.

  We’re bolting."

  "What—?" The question barely leaves my

  lips before she yanks me forward.

  The noise behind us shifts—cheers bleeding into

  frantic shouts. Paparazzi. Reporters. The vultures are circling. I glance

  back—just in time to see the Sumo and the Legionnaires of Doom plant themselves

  between the cameras and us, a living barricade.

  Then, headlights. A sleek black car idles just

  ahead, door already open.

  Raven doesn’t slow. We dive in. The door slams

  shut.

  The engine growls. Tires screech.

  We’re gone.

  I press back into the seat, breathless, the city

  lights streaking past.

  What the hell just happened?

Recommended Popular Novels