Champion of Streetwise Boxing

Protective headgear that shields the wearer very well in a boxing match, fitting its owner's face perfectly.

Scraping by on the streets, Lindsay had never once thought about being invited into a serious boxing match. From the start she did not believe anyone could beat her, let alone a middle aged woman.

The woman who called herself a boxing coach had protective gear ready for Lindsay and challenged her: if she won, she wanted Lindsay to become her student.

Lindsay could not be bothered with all that cumbersome equipment and tossed the gear she was handed aside. She assumed she would win easily with her quick reflexes, but within three steps the woman had closed in and knocked her out with a single punch to the face. After coming round from the blackout, Lindsay picked up the headgear, and inside its narrow field of vision she saw a new world.

“So this is the fist of a boxer? How interesting. If you are going to teach me, then you have to make me the strongest.”

Her mouth never stopped complaining, but Lindsay took the loss like a good sport. She put on the protective gear and formally stepped into the world of boxing.

Boxing gloves kept in excellent condition, lightly damaged but not enough to affect their actual use.

Newly arrived in the boxing ring, Lindsay had sharp punching skills, but she knew only how to attack and not how to defend.

Street experience does not carry over completely into a roped ring, and the boxing match Ekaterina arranged beat the arrogance out of the wild girl.

After losing in the local matches, her confidence and her swagger collapsed badly, and she could not help thinking about the rhythm of attack and defense Ekaterina had taught her. A Lindsay who had once known only how to punch and kick now seemed to have been kissed by the goddess of battle, gradually grasping the pleasure of shifting between offense and defense. When she came back to herself, she noticed for the first time that the finger guards had cracked, and that the gloves were soaked through with blood and sweat.

“You have to find your own rhythm and not fall into your opponent's trap.”

Lindsay suddenly understood Ekat's maxim, and understood as well that Ekat, always strict but with warm eyes, had long since seen her as her own child.

A chest guard made specially for boxers, its outer shell and lining fixed tightly together, keeping the wearer safe without hindering the use of technique.

The gym on the night before the boxing match went on as usual, with fast, heavy fists whistling into the sandbags.

Sweat soaked through the chest guard pressed close to her body, and a veil of burning heat cut Lindsay off from reality. She wanted to run away.

Lindsay did everything she could to keep control of her feelings, sweat mixed with tears glistening on her face. In the middle of the night she took off the chest guard and wrote the name “Ekat” on the inside, wanting to keep her promise to win for the sake of that name. This was the decisive bout on the road to the boxing championship, and also Lindsay's first match without her coach at her side. Before stepping into the ring, Lindsay proudly threw out her chest before the cameras.

“Lindsay… you and my daughter have exactly the same name. When she left this world, I thought everything had collapsed, until I met you. Thank you, Lindsay.”

“Protect me, Ekat.” The most important name of all rests against a burning heart.

A clever combination of leather and mesh, with thick insoles and thin outsoles to keep the footwork nimble.

Small of build, Lindsay is known for her agile style, her footwork as quick as a butterfly brushing past a petal.

Even when an opponent's fast punches come down as fierce as rain, they only graze Lindsay's shoulder. This is her trademark “Lindsay Step”.

To train Lindsay's remarkable speed, Ekaterina took the street girl to a high society ball, hand in hand, turning and turning… The green, inexperienced Lindsay gradually caught up with the steps, and it seemed she understood that this self proclaimed boxing coach was not simply a coach. On the dim dance floor, some tender place in Lindsay's heart was suddenly covered over by a strange and wonderful feeling.

“Care for another dance?”

Lindsay, who came up from the streets, had never imagined she would experience anything like it. She looked into Ekaterina's clear eyes, and could not refuse.