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.
Tyler looked across the room.
“Why did you let me keep attacking?”
Kenji thought.
“Because Daniel was there.”
“What does that mean?”
“If I believed you were actually dangerous, I would have stopped sooner.”
Tyler looked offended.
Then realized the insult was not intended.
Kenji continued.
“You were angry.”
“Not dangerous.”
“Difference?”
“Dangerous people stop listening.”
“Angry people sometimes still can.”
Tyler looked down.
“I wasn’t listening.”
“Not very well.”
“Why didn't you hit me?”
Kenji looked confused.
“Why would I?”
“To prove you could.”
Kenji smiled.
“There is your problem.”
“What?”
“You think ability creates obligation.”
Tyler waited.