Black Belt Called MMA Champion A Fake In Front Of 200 People — 2s Later, Everyone Regretted It
Chapter 10
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"Now," Derek said, addressing the crowd more than Walt at this point, "the instinct most people have is to pull straight back. That's wrong. That's the weakest direction. Instead, you want to rotate against the thumb, like this."He twisted Walt's wrist sharply, demonstrating the motion. Walt winced just slightly, a small hiss of breath escaping through his teeth.The crowd, unaware, applauded the demonstration. But near the side of the stage, Emily had gone very still.She watched the angle of Derek's grip, the direction of the twist, the way his forearm had rotated a fraction too far, putting unnecessary pressure directly through Walt's wrist joint—the kind of joint that, at 78 years old, likely carried decades of wear and arthritis already. It wasn't a dangerous technique in itself, but the way Derek was demonstrating it—fast, showy, more concerned with the crowd's reaction than his volunteer's comfort—was the kind of thing that could genuinely hurt someone, especially someone Walt's age.Emily glanced at Walt's face. He was smiling for the crowd the way a man of his generation does when he doesn't want to make a fuss, but his jaw was tight. His eyes had that particular strain to them, the one that comes from swallowing pain politely.She made a decision then—a quiet one, not to embarrass anyone, just to help. While Derek reset for a second demonstration, Emily stepped closer to the edge of the mat, keeping her voice low, meant only for him."Excuse me," she said. "You might want to soften that rotation a little. For someone his age, that twist could strain the joint."It wasn't a challenge. It wasn't loud. It was, if anything, the kind of thing one professional says quietly to another—the kind of correction meant to help, not to humiliate.Derek turned to look at her, microphone still clipped to his collar, and something shifted in his expression: surprise first, then something harder underneath it."I'm sorry?" he said. And though his voice was still pleasant, there was an edge creeping into it now. "Were you saying something?"A few people nearby had heard the exchange. Not the whole room, not yet—just the front two rows close enough to catch the tail end of it."I just meant," Emily said carefully, "that rotation puts a lot of pressure directly through the wrist. For an older student, it might be safer to redirect the angle slightly. Take some of that load off the joint."There it was: the correction laid out plainly, gently, the way you'd explain something to a friend.Derek's smile returned, but it had changed shape. It was thinner now, performative. "That's cute," he said, loud enough now that more heads began turning. "You want to teach the class?"A ripple of laughter moved through the nearby crowd. Not cruel laughter, not yet—the kind of laughter that happens when people aren't sure what's going on, so they laugh along to be safe."No," Emily said calmly. "I just noticed, and I thought I'd mention it.""Well," Derek said, turning back to the crowd, spreading his arms theatrically, "I appreciate the concern from our janitorial staff, but I think I've got this handled. I do have, you know, actual training."