Astana City.
The morning sun was just peeking through the windows of the sports complex, casting a soft glow on the faces of hundreds gathered for the national boxing championship.
The air buzzed with energy — the shouts of coaches, the claps of the audience, and the rhythmic sound of gloves striking.
Among the many contestants from all over Kazakhstan, one stood out — Ali Riza, a girl from Kyzylorda.
At first glance, she didn't look like a boxer — gentle features, calm presence — but there was a burning fire in her eyes. The kind of fire only a true fighter carries.
In the stands, two young men watched her closely.
One of them was Riza's older brother, Kairat, and beside him sat his close friend, Sherkhan.
"That's my little sister," said Kairat proudly. "She's from Kyzylorda. Two years younger than me — your age, actually. She'll be a senior this year.
When our parents divorced, she stayed with Dad, and I moved here to Astana with Mom."
"That must've been hard," said Sherkhan softly. "But you both seem happy.
Your sister's winning medals, and you're one of the city's best basketball players."
"I wouldn't call it happiness," Kairat smiled faintly.
"Next up — Ali Riza versus Ainur Bekova! Are you ready?"
"One… two… three… Fight!"
The air inside the ring grew heavy.
The two girls locked eyes — sharp, determined. Both knew only one thing mattered: victory.
Ainur stepped forward, ready to strike, but Riza moved first — swift as lightning. She tripped her opponent's leg and landed a clean punch.
The crowd erupted.
"And the winner is… Ali Riza!"
Kairat jumped to his feet, carrying a bouquet of flowers.
"Congratulations, little champ! I'm so proud of you."
"Thank you, big brother. I'm glad you came today."
"Of course I came. How could I miss seeing my sister win again?"
From a distance, Sherkhan watched with a faint smile.
Kairat noticed and called out:
"Hey, come here! I'll introduce you."
"Riza, this is my friend, Sherkhan. You're both going into 11th grade this fall — and both boxers, too. I think you'll get along fast."
"Nice to meet you. You fought incredibly well today," said Sherkhan, offering his hand.
"Thank you. Nice to meet you too," Riza replied shyly.
Later that evening, they all arrived at Kairat's house.
A sweet aroma filled the air — their mother, Aisha, was cooking in the kitchen.
"We're home!"
"My dear daughter!" Aisha rushed out and hugged Riza tightly. "How are you, sweetheart? I missed you so much!"
"I'm good, Mom. Look, I won first place today!" Riza showed her medal proudly.
"I knew it! I'm so proud of you, my girl."
"Uh… hello," said Sherkhan politely, still standing by the door.
"Oh! Sorry, dear, I didn't notice you there," Aisha laughed and shook his hand. "Come in, come in!"
They all sat at the table, laughing and talking.
For a while, the house was full of warmth.
Then Kairat's phone rang.
"It's a friend," he said, getting up. "He's drunk and asking me to pick him up from the club. Don't worry, Mom, I'll be right back."
"Just be careful, son," she replied with concern.
Kairat left. Ten minutes later, Sherkhan also stood up.
"I should go too. My mom will start worrying."
"Alright, say hi to her for me," said Riza.
"I will. Goodnight."
3:00 a.m.
The house was silent. Aisha couldn't sleep — a mother's instinct.
She reached for her phone and called Kairat. No answer.
A few minutes later, a message appeared:
"Mom, don't worry. I'm taking my friend back to his village. I'll call when I can."
She sighed with relief and finally fell asleep.
Morning came.
Riza was packing for her trip home.
"Did you forget anything, sweetheart?"
"I don't think so. Has Kairat come back?"
"Not yet, but he'll be home soon. Don't worry."
"When he does, tell him to text me, okay?"
"Of course."
Aisha saw her daughter off to the train station.
On the train, Riza sent a message to her brother:
'I'm on my way, ağa. Take care of Mom. Make sure she takes her medicine on time. And don't make her worry again. You know her heart is weak.'
Kyzylorda.
Riza entered her home.
"I'm home."
"How was the tournament?" her father's cold voice came from the next room.
"I got first place."
"Good. Put your things down and make dinner."
"…"
Silence filled the evening. Father and daughter ate quietly.
Then the phone rang. Her father answered.
"Hello?"
A woman's trembling voice came through, crying. It was Aisha.
"Askhat… our son… Kairat… he's gone. They… killed him…"
The spoon fell from Askhat's hand.
"Dad? What happened?"
"…"
"Dad?"
He looked up, pale, voice barely above a whisper.
"Kairat… is gone."
Riza froze. Her mind went blank.
The world around her stopped.