“Karate.”
“Judo.”
“A little aikido.”
“Police defensive tactics.”
“Military instruction.”
Kenji lifted a hand.
“Daniel.”
“What?”
“You make it sound like I fought in three wars.”
Daniel looked at him.
“You trained my father.”
“That does not make me ancient.”
“You are seventy-one.”
“Seventy-two next month.”
“That made my point worse.”
A few students laughed.
Kenji smiled.
Tyler did not.
He stared at the old man’s hands.
Suddenly all those tiny movements meant something.
The timing.
The balance.
The complete absence of panic.
Tyler asked:
“Why are you dressed like that?”
Kenji looked down at his shirt.
“Like what?”
“Normal.”
Kenji smiled.
“I went to lunch.”
The students laughed.
Tyler looked toward Daniel.
“Why is he here?”
Daniel crossed his arms.
“He’s teaching the weekend seminar.”
Silence.
Tyler’s face changed completely.
The weekend seminar.
The one Daniel had promoted for two months.
The one Tyler had complained about because the guest instructor’s name had not been announced.
Daniel wanted students to attend without being influenced by reputation.
Tyler had called that “marketing stupidity.”
Now he understood.
Kenji finished putting on his shoes.
Then reached for his tea.
Tyler stood alone in the center of the mat.
Still shirtless.
Still wearing the black belt.
It suddenly looked heavier.
Daniel looked at him.
“Class is over.”
Nobody moved.
Tyler’s eyes remained on Kenji.
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
Kenji took a sip.
“About what?”
“Who you are.”
“You didn’t ask.”
“You let me make a fool of myself.”
Kenji shook his head.
“No.”
Tyler’s jaw tightened.
“You could've stopped it.”
“I said no.”
“When?”
“When you kicked my chair across the room.”
A few students looked down.
Kenji continued.
“You heard what you wanted.”
Tyler said nothing.
“You picked me because you thought I was safe.”
“Safe?”
“Easy.”
Kenji looked toward the students.
“You wanted a person who could not make you look bad.”
Then back to Tyler.
“That is not confidence.”
A pause.
“That is fear with good posture.”
Nobody laughed.
Tyler’s face went red again.
But this time he had no comeback.
Kenji picked up the folding chair.
Set it upright.
Then sat down.
Exactly where the whole thing had started.
Class ended quietly.
Tyler left without changing clothes.
He did not attend the next morning’s seminar.
At least not at first.
The seminar began at nine.
At 9:17, the back door opened.
Tyler entered wearing a plain white gi.
No black belt.
Daniel noticed immediately.
Tyler had tied a white belt around his waist.
Students whispered.
Kenji looked toward him.
Then continued teaching.
No comment.
For the first hour, they worked on stance.
That irritated Tyler almost as much as losing had.
No spinning kicks.
No dramatic throws.
No advanced combinations.
Stance.
Weight.
Breathing.
Distance.
Kenji walked between students.
“Too stiff.”
“Relax the shoulder.”
“Don't chase power.”
“Stop trying to look fast.”
When he reached Tyler, he stopped.
Tyler expected a joke.
Kenji simply moved his rear foot two inches.
“Better.”
Then walked away.
Tyler stared after him.
At lunch, Tyler sat alone on the edge of the mat.
Kenji approached with two bottles of water.
He offered one.
Tyler took it.
“Thanks.”
Kenji sat beside him.
For a while, neither spoke.
Then Tyler said:
“I almost didn't come.”
“I know.”
“You knew?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“You came late.”
Tyler laughed despite himself.
Then became serious.
“I've been black belt nine years.”
Kenji nodded.
“I started at six.”
Another nod.
“I won state three times.”
“Good.”
“I teach advanced class.”
“Good.”
Tyler frowned.
“You don’t seem impressed.”
Kenji looked at him.
“Should I be?”
Tyler opened his mouth.
Then laughed quietly.
“No.”
Kenji smiled.
“That was better.”
“What?”
“You answered honestly.”
They drank water.