Chapter Nine: En Garde, Emotions, and an Unexpected Encore
Ryan Marquez had never been to a fencing tournament before.
But he was 97% sure that what he was witnessing wasn't how it was supposed to go.
For starters, Manny Delgado was dramatically adjusting his fencing mask like he was about to duel for honor in 18th-century France. Cam was loudly humming the Phantom of the Opera overture from the bleachers. And Jay was pacing like a boxing coach reliving his glory days in slow motion.
Meanwhile, Ryan sat beside Alex in the stands, surrounded by parents screaming things like, "Strike! Strike! Stab him with your emotions!"
"I feel like I'm watching a Shakespearean soap opera," Ryan muttered.
Alex, already halfway through her second juice box, nodded. "This is why I don't do extracurriculars."
Ryan glanced down at the tournament pamphlet, frowning. "Apparently, fencing is supposed to be a gentleman's sport. Polite. Tactical. Graceful."
"Tell that to Gloria. She just told Manny to 'take his opponent's soul.'"
They both looked over.
Gloria stood by the edge of the mat, hands cupped around her mouth. "Destroy him, mi amor!"
Jay turned to her. "Let the boy focus! He needs strategy!"
"You want strategy, he needs blood!"
"It's fencing, Gloria. Not Gladiator!"
Manny adjusted his gloves, eyes blazing with theatrical fury. "Today, I fight… for love!"
Mitchell whispered to Cam, "Did he just say 'for love'?"
Cam wiped away a tear. "He's so dramatic. I love it."
Somehow, amid all this, Ryan found himself on the team.
More accurately, Gloria spotted him in the bleachers, remembered his "intelligent tactical brain" from the football game, and pulled him aside mid-match.
"You will help him win," she said, clutching his shoulders. "Use your technology. Your science. Your robot brain. Manny must win!"
Ryan blinked. "Uh, I don't think it works that way—"
"He needs strategy! Focus! Emotional support! You are like… like a fencing robot! FEN-TRON!"
"Please don't call me that."
"You will do this. For honor!"
Now standing beside the tournament referee, holding a whiteboard and being called Coach Fen-Tron by Gloria, Ryan sighed and looked over at Alex, who simply gave him a thumbs-up and mouthed, "Good luck, Zorro."
Manny's opponent was a tall, bored-looking kid from another school who clearly had no idea what emotional soap opera he'd just stepped into.
Ryan gave Manny a brief overview of movement patterns, left-hand bias, and possible weak zones. Manny nodded solemnly.
"This is excellent," he said. "Do you also have a playlist of romantic monologues I can recite if I win?"
"No."
"Shame."
The match began.
Within thirty seconds, Manny was disarmed.
Jay facepalmed. Gloria shouted, "Use your feelings!"
Ryan leaned in. "Manny—remember your stance. You're lunging too deep. Shorten your steps and bait his right side. He drops his guard after his third parry."
Manny stared at him. "Do you… analyze everything?"
Ryan shrugged. "Only the stuff I care about."
Manny narrowed his eyes, refocused, and went back in.
Point.
Another point.
Suddenly, the room was buzzing. Manny was holding his own—and then, incredibly, leading.
Gloria squealed. Jay barked approval. Cam fainted from excitement (he claimed it was low blood sugar).
And Ryan… just smiled. Calm, composed. Watching his data unfold like poetry in motion.
The match ended.
Manny won.
The crowd erupted. Jay hugged Gloria. Mitchell caught Cam's dramatics. Claire took photos of Luke and Haley pretending to care. And Alex?
Alex made her way through the crowd toward Ryan, who stood near the mat, dazed from the volume.
"You did it," she said, smiling.
"I assisted. Manny did the stabbing."
"You're such a nerd."
"You keep saying that like it's not why you're here."
She rolled her eyes—but leaned in closer.
And then, without a word, she pressed her lips to his cheek.
Just once.
Just soft.
But long enough for Ryan's brain to reboot.
When she pulled back, he blinked. "Did that… just happen?"
Alex nodded. "It did."
"I didn't hallucinate that from adrenaline and tournament fumes?"
"Nope."
He touched his cheek, stunned. "That's going in the log."
She laughed. "Don't you dare timestamp it."
"I already did."
She started to walk away but paused. "Hey, Ryan?"
"Yeah?"
"You're my favorite nerd."
And she was gone.
Later that night, at the Marquez house, Ryan sat on the roof outside his window with his laptop balanced on his knees. The stars blinked overhead. His prototype fencing AI lay half-assembled beside him, mostly for fun now.
Alpha pinged softly.
ALPHA: "EMOTIONAL EVENT LOGGED. Keywords: 'Touch. Spark. Recognition. Acceleration.' Shall I categorize as Romantic Development Phase II?"
Ryan smiled.
"Yeah," he said. "Let's call it… Phase II."
ALPHA: "Logged. And, may I say, finally."
He chuckled and leaned back, looking up at the stars.
He had come into this world expecting to be smarter than everyone else. To build. To shape. To invent.
But this—this feeling, this moment, that kiss on the cheek from the girl who saw through all the tech and noise—that was something even Tony Stark's brain couldn't predict.
And it was worth every byte of chaos.