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The cheers deafened Luka as he strode into the stadium, his heart beating erratically under his white fencing suit.
It was something that still thrilled him, the fact that so many people had travelled far and wide to see him play amazed him.
He set down his gear bag and began his routine of stretches, rolling his neck, wrists and ankles in smooth rotations. He let out a shaky breath, trying to keep his nerves at bay.
Every time he was greeted by a cheering crowd, he felt a suffocating urge to please, to serenade, to give the crowd the show they wanted.
He often felt more like an entertainer than an athlete, often his looks and easy charm overshadowed his skills.
He supposed that a lot of it stemmed from the mindset of his first coach, Herepu, the coach he trained with for most of his childhood. The coach he was desperately trying to forget.
As he took his sword from his bag, he took another deep breath, willing his nerves to disappear. All his training and sacrifices would mean nothing if he lost this match, if he won silver instead of gold.
A sliver of gold on his ring finger gleamed in the bright overhead lights, causing a smile to break across his face.
A genuine smile, a rarity for him. But how could he ever get used to the idea that Hyuna was his wife?
His nerves and worries were dispelled at the thought of her. When she smiled, it could melt the coldest of winter’s snow, it was powerful enough to shatter the barriers to his heart. As powerful as the bullets she expertly shot from her poised gun.
As the camera landed on his face and the crowd erupted into cheers, Luka did what he always did. A soft smile played at his lips when he brought the ring up to his lips before kissing it gently. His eyes flickered to the camera, his thoughts only on his love.
This is for you Hyuna. Everything I do is for you.
As the referee called out the familiar words of “En garde. Prêt. Allez.”
His opponent lurched forward in a a brazen fashion, completely catching Luka off guard. His sword made contact with Luka’s chest, the scoreboard lighting up.
0-1
Luka shook his head from side to side, forcing himself to concentrate. He lifted his sword again but still his opponent’s antics surprised him, this time attacking from the left. A strong swoop whipped by his ear as the sword collided with his left shoulder as Luka felt his frustration grow and fester.
0-2
The process repeated itself, Luka being wholly unprepared to counter his opponent’s actions. It happened again. And again, and again.
0-6
As Luka grabbed his water bottle and violently squeezed water into his mouth, the word of his former coach haunted his mind.
His eleven year old self sprung to mind, weak and pathetic. He had been losing badly in his Junior final as Herepu approached him.
Heperu had placed a heavy hand on his shoulder, his fingers curling inward like claws.
“What do you think you’re doing? I’m wasting my time on you, you have no potential. You’ll be nothing without me, and all you bring me is shame. You disgust me.”
The words dug deeper than any sword could. Despite cutting contact with Herepu several years ago, he couldn’t flee his criticism. Or his own.
He blinked away hot, angry tears as he swallowed his water. He stared at a spot in the distance, willing his eyes to clear up.
That’s when he noticed her.
Messy brown hair escaping her ponytail, her pretty mouth cheering support for him. In her hands she held a sign with ‘I’m proud of you’ written across it in bold letters.
A warmth spread through his entire body, a ray of sunshine casting away the clouds of his past. Hyuna, his saviour.
As he reached for his mask, he locked eyes with Hyuna and kissed his ring again, not breaking eye contact with Hyuna. He saw her replicate the gesture, her soft lips meeting the gold and smirking at Luka.
“Wait are you waiting for?” she mouthed playfully. “Show them what you’ve got.” She raised her thumbs enthusiastically, yelping and she almost lost grip of her sign.
Luka slipped his mask back on and clutched his sword with renewed vigour. He was going to make his wife proud. That’s all that really mattered.
He could now see through his opponent’s gameplay, it seemed so obvious now. He always alternated between striking left and right and always moved forward quickly first.
As soon as the referee called, Luka knew what to do. He ran forward, knuckles undoubtedly white under his gloved hand from his firm grip, and struck his opponent in his left side.
1-6
Game on.
A pandemonium of screams and excitement came from the stands but Luka couldn’t care for them, not in the slightest. He scanned the crowd to find Hyuna, who was beaming. The most beautiful sight in the world.
His heart best erratically in his chest again, but this time it wasn’t from nerves. It was from undiluted ecstasy, his wife’s smile was his life’s elixir. Even two years after seeing Hyuna dressed in white and hearing her bright voice say “I do,” Luka could never control his reactions to seeing his wife happy.
And if he was the source of the happiness, even better. That’s it. He was going to win this match for her.
With a renewed concentration, the match moved swiftly by. He fed his energy into the thrill of the game, rocking backwards and forwards on his feet, ducking and swooping in a delicate dance, the sound of swords clashing against one another.
Much to the frustration and confusion of his opponent, the game came under Luka’s control. 2-6 became 6-6, 6-6 became 9-7 until the points were 14-9 to Luka. He only needed one more point to secure his victory.
His opponent had become violent in the last few rounds, often ripping his mask off and throwing it to the ground if Luka scored a point, the echo reverberated throughout the stadium as the tense crowd looked on.
But Luka didn’t let it faze him. He drowned everything out, his opponent, the voices of coaches old and new, his own worries and insecurities. Everything except Hyuna.
As he held his sword up again, he was eager for this to be the last round. Not so that he could claim his win by a large margin, it was simply because he had been away from Hyuna for too long. How he regretted pushing her away at the beginning of the competition, wanting to fully concentrate on the sport. All he yearned for now was to hug her and hold her close.
As his sword made contact with his opponent’s chest, the scoreboard flashing and announcing his win, Luka whipped off his mask and hurriedly shook his opponent’s hand before bounding over to where Hyuna was clapping energetically.
Unfortunately he was interceded by a pesky reporter who jumped out in front of him, calling his name. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes heavenwards as he reluctantly agreed to the interview.
His fingers tapped against his folded arms impatiently, the sight of Hyuna in his peripheral vision tempting him away.
”We’ll make this quick,” the interviewer said as he beckoned a camera over with a quick hand gesture, apparently feeling Luka’s waning keenness. “I’m sure you can’t wait to get your gold medal.”
The statement baffled him for a moment for he had completely forgotten about winning gold. He had only won to make Hyuna happy.
His silence prompted the interviewer to start asking questions. “So Luka, you really are the comeback king! It wasn’t looking so good at the beginning, how did you manage to quite literally get back on your feet?”
Luka delivered a generic response to each question, the same way he dealt with every interview. He spoke of the importance of resilience, of how hard he trained for this, of how happy his was to see his devoted fans show up to support him.
But it was the last question which caught him off guard.
”Luka, before I let you go, I just wanted to ask you a question about your pre match routine, that is of kissing your ring. Is it a good luck talisman of will your answer break a lot of fans’ hearts?”
A smile melted onto his fan. “I suppose it is a good luck charm in a way, it’s my wedding ring from my beautiful wife. I kiss it before every match to keep myself grounded on the things that really matter. I suppose this answer might disappoint a few hopeful fans, but Hyuna’s heart is the only one I care about.”
The crowd exploded in a flurry of gasps and applause, rapid whispers dashing around. “You’re married?” The interviewer stuttered. “To champion shooter, Kim Hyuna?”
Luka smiled again, how could he feel any other emotion apart from happiness at the mention of her? “That’s true. I’m the luckiest man in the universe.”
As the medal was placed around his neck in the awards ceremony, he realised the gold of the medal could never outshine his golden ring. Fencing was his life, but Hyuna was his eternity.
The weight of the gold around his neck was a token of his hardships and sufferings, his sacrifices and disappointments. But his ring was weightless, sealing his finger without trial or tribulation.
Hyuna was his sunrise and sunset, his summer and winter, his song and harmony, his life and death. She was more precious to him than any medal, award or achievement.
The day of their marriage was the most incredible day of Luka’s life. When he was younger, it was engrained in his mind that happiness could only be gained in succeeding, and for his case, succeeding in fencing.
But Luka knew that simply wasn’t true. He felt nothing but pure happiness every time his wife smiled.
When the ceremony ended he darted over to her and placed the medal around her neck. “For you,” he breathed.
”Luka, you won this, it’s yours!” Hyuna protested before planting a kiss on his forehead. She lifted the medal closer to her eyes to examine it better. “Congratulations!”
”I want you to have it,” he replied, bringing his arms around Hyuna and indulging in her fragrant scent. Warmth radiated from her body, making Luka hug her more tightly.
Hyuna laughed softly at his adamance, sounding like a wind chime twinkling in the wind. The most beautiful sound in the world.
”I don’t need that medal to know I’ve won everything. The day I won your heart was the day I knew nothing could ever compare to you.”