Daniel watched him warm up near the edge of the floor. He was pale. His hands were shaking. Victor stood beside him, talking softly.
Ethan won his first match. Then his second.
By the afternoon, he was in the final of the brown belt division.
His opponent was from Iron Tiger. A big, aggressive kid named Cole, who had spent the whole day trash-talking every opponent he faced.
"Look at that," Cole said loudly as they stepped onto the mat. "It's the crybaby. Heard your old coach used to toss you around like a rag doll."
The words hit Ethan like a slap. Daniel saw him freeze.
From the corner, Victor's face went hard. For one second, Daniel saw the old Victor flash across his eyes. The anger. The pride. The urge to make someone pay.
Then Victor closed his eyes, breathed out, and called Ethan over.
The match began.
Cole came in hard. Too hard. He threw wild kicks, aggressive punches, crowding Ethan toward the edge of the ring. When the referee turned his head, Cole drove an elbow into Ethan's ribs.
Ethan stumbled. The crowd gasped. The referee spun back around, but he hadn't seen it.
On the sidelines, Grant Mercer smiled.
Ethan stood up. He was holding his side. His face was tight with pain.
Ethan started to fight back. And for the first time, Daniel saw what Raymond meant. The boy was talented. His footwork was clean. His timing was perfect. He slipped Cole's next punch and landed a crisp, legal kick to the chest.
Point.
Then another.
Point.
With ten seconds left, they were tied.
Cole charged again. Ethan sidestepped. Cole's foot caught the edge of the mat, and he went down hard, landing awkwardly on his knee.
He cried out. Real pain this time. Not fake.
The referee paused the match.
Cole was on the ground, clutching his knee. If the referee restarted, Ethan could score in a second and win. Mercer was already shouting at his own student to get up.