It was a gloriously bright and sunny day, yet for Shune it might as well have been raining. He wanted to run but he forced himself to walk. He had little choice. His uneven gait was obvious even when he tried to hide it. The cane was also an obvious give away that running was not in the cards for him today. Not today, or tomorrow, or…he didn’t know.

The door to the gym was heavy, something he hadn’t ever noticed before his body began to fail him. He had to brace himself and pivot precariously on his bad leg to swing the door open. Inside were the familiar sounds of sparring, the smell of sweat, and the occasional call from a judge. In times past, Shune would have been carrying his bag of gear and getting ready for a sparring match of his own. Today, all he carried was his cane. He was a spectator today, not a participant.

“Shune!”

A familiar voice called out. One of the instructors, Quinn, jogged over. Shune bowed to him and they shook hands.

“You entering?” Quinn asked, surprised. “I don’t remember seeing your name on the list.”

“No, just here to watch,” Shune replied, shaking his head, then added after some hesitation, “I also need to withdraw from the gym.”

Quinn didn’t look surprised, only nodded as he looked down at Shune’s leg.

“I understand. We’ll be sorry to lose you.”

“Yeah,” Shune didn’t know what else to say and the conversation died.

Quinn patted him on the shoulder and left it at that. He needed to get ready for today’s tournament. Out of habit, Shune almost followed him over towards the competition area but caught himself after only a couple of steps and instead made his way over to the chairs set up for those here to watch the tournament.

A number of the competitors noticed him and waved, or called out to him. Shune smiled and waved back. He wanted to be where they were. He missed the anticipation, the adrenaline, facing off and fighting to the best of his ability.

The best of his ability.

Shune hadn’t been at his best for some time. In a matter of months he’d gone from one of the better fighters here to one of the worst. His doctors had figured out the problem, and his physical therapist was helping him manage it, but Shune hadn’t missed how none of them ever spoke about getting better, or curing him. Only managing symptoms, delaying further degradation, preserving the muscle he still has.

There was no getting better, only slowly getting worse for the rest of his life.

Hot anger and frustration boiled up inside of him but he forced it back down. He hadn’t forgotten the self discipline he’d learned over the years of training. He wouldn’t be angry over this. Anger wasn’t helpful here. He could be disappointed that this was gone from his life now, but he wouldn’t be angry.

The first match began and Shune watched as his friends competed against one another. He’d helped train this pair and he smiled as he noted the improvements they’d made since they first started attending the gym. He was friends with practically everyone who was here to compete. He’d faced off against most of them over the years and figured that he would have placed fourth or fifth if he’d been able to compete at his best. Not bad, for him. He’d never been the best here, but he’d worked hard to get to where he was.

The second match began. Again, they were people he knew and had sparred with regularly up until his body started giving him trouble. Shune tried to avoid using terms like ‘betrayed’ when he thought about when had happened. It wasn’t his body’s fault, it had no choice in the matter. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. That’s why he couldn’t be angry. Anger only worked when there was something it could do about it, but Shune was already doing everything he could and it was what it was.

When the third match began, Shune had to remind himself to unclench his fists and relax his shoulders. Tension in the body only made the tension in the mind worse. By relaxing his body, he could more easily relax his mind. He was here to cheer on his friends and show his support for the gym. This wasn’t one of the bigger gyms in the city with dozens of fighters and everything was high end. What it was, though, was a good gym. Everyone here was here for the love of the sport. Those other gyms might be bigger and fancier, but they all still respected this gym.

A tear rolled down his cheek when the fourth match began. The last fight he’d participated in had been against one of them. It should have been an easy fight for Shune, but his body just wouldn’t do what he wanted it to do and he’d lost the fight. That was the moment he knew he was done competing. It hurt, in more ways than one but continuing to fight would have been foolish. No one at the gym would have ever suggested it but his doctors and physical therapist all had at one time or another.

Shune did what he had come to do and cheered on his friends. After the competition was over, he congratulated the winners and commiserated with the losers. He’d been through this so many times before, but always as a fighter. It was strange coming at it from the perspective of a spectator but he’d enjoyed himself far more than he’d expected. At best he’d thought this would just make him miss fighting even more but he’d genuinely enjoyed watching the fights.

That evening, as he walked back to his car he felt at peace with his decision to stop competing, stop training. He still needed to find something else to take its place in his life and he had a few options. His life wasn’t over and he had plenty of time to figure things out.