• 8 •

“Only a full-fledged sadist will schedule a lesson at this hour! At the weekend!” I’m no big fan of getting up early, too, but Leah’s grumpy carping even manages to cheer me up.

Dressed for training, we leave the dressing room and enter the dojo. The sight is impressive!

The dojo of our new sensei could be used as a prop for Tiger & Dragon, just this one looks even more sturdy, stylish and dignified than any film set could ever be. I hesitate to step on the polished hardwood floor with my shoes and consider to take them off. This moment, our hosts enter the room themselves and they’re both wearing shoes, too.

“Good morning, dear ladies. I’m pleased to see that you both made it in time for our first training session.” Carl Grayson’s calm bass resounds pleasantly through the hall.

After the formal greeting, we start with the usual warmup, but what a kind of! Tai chi never really attracted me, but under expert tutelage it soon shows its quality. Trying to imitate the slow-motion shadow boxing Kimora Grayson is performing before us, while her husband corrects Leah’s and my movements, my muscles soon burn like after the hardest workout possible. Not only the focused elegance of Kimora is impressive, she also is supple like a silken ghost in her white, richly embroidered Wushu suit. Many of the impossible angles she bends her limbs into we can only try to mimic measly.

Okay, my ambition is roused, if it’s that what you intend.

“Well done, ladies. Line up, we start with throws and joint locks.” Kimora’s voice, other than the bearlike one of her husband, is soft and lyrical, but nonetheless exudes absolute authority – an art of its own I’d also like to master.

“Excuse me, Sensei, throws without mats?” Leah expresses my thought perfectly.

“How do you make sure that there is always a mat ready when you have to fight? Carrying one with you?” She answers calm and smiles mildly. “You know how to fall. You did that a million times. You will handle it.”

Kimora motions us to begin. First, we start overly cautious and our teacher lets us do so. Soon, though, she orders us to put more verve into the techniques. Surprisingly, it’s far less painful than expected. Given, every flaw exacts vengeance with pain and small bruises and it takes a lot of concentration all the time, but I have to admit that I learn rapidly. Within half an hour we practice at our usual severity and I feel genuine pride.

Carl enters the room with a group of guys of different age. Most of the men sit down at the wall, while two of them step up to us.

“It’s time to start what we’re all here for: your realistic combat training. These gentlemen kindly have volunteered as training opponents.” He allocates us in pairs with enough space for free fighting.

I assess my training partner. He’s a man in his mid-thirties, about my own height. His body is that of a former athlete but seems a bit slack, as far as I can perceive through his clothing. He’s neither handsome nor ugly, a pretty ordinary guy. He smiles a bit shy at me.

“Hi, I’m Kim, nice to meet you.”

“You can babble later. For now, it’s training time. Fight!” Kimora is calm but determined.

Without hesitation, my opponent comes at me. The first two straight fists to my midsection surprise me, so I can barely ward them off, and not before they make contact. I slide back and rally. He goes for a kick. His technique is underdeveloped and I clearly see it begin. I kick plainly to his shin and break his attack. I lunge and throw a punch myself. It perfectly hits his metasternum and makes him cringe. He immediately tries to counterattack with a straight right. I turn out of his strike, intercept his wrist and perform a joint lock. In one fluid motion I bring him face down to the floor, straddle on his torso and punch downward at his mandible angle, drawing back at the last moment.

Yes, man, this one would have ruined your day if I had pulled through.

I relax and start to rise. Suddenly, my opponent whirls around and grabs the back of my neck with both hands. He drags down hard and I fall. I almost slam to the floor face first but manage to bring my shoulder down. A sharp pain radiates from it a second later. He clings to my head like a limpet and tries to force it to the floor. Grabbing his wrist with my left, I put my right palm under his corresponding elbow and push hard. His shoulder gets twisted and his grip loosens.

I’m upset because of his devious attack after the fight was ended. I could just dislocate his shoulder now, but this is just training, after all.

He places his foot at my stomach and pushes me forcefully away. Spinning around, he delivers a kick with his other foot to my ribs. I manage to catch his leg, tuck it under my arm and jump up. I employ a nasty and especially painful hold to his leg, pressing my lower arm bones into his Achilles tendon. With legs spread, his genitals lie open to attack. I raise my foot.

On impulse, I almost stomp his manhood, vexed as I am. I put my foot on his other leg, though, pinning his knee down. A painful and definite submission hold like this should end this fight, finally.

Indeed, my opponent squirms and moans in pain, but he doesn’t tap out. I apply more force. The man throws back his head and screams agonized, yet he still doesn’t give up!

“What’s up, Kim? Are you going to ruin his leg now? What are you waiting for? It’s cruel to make him suffer like this.” Kimora stands next to me, eyeing my expectant.

“What? I can’t… this is just training, I can’t harm him!” I can’t believe what she demands.

“Oh? Did I forget to mention that this is fight training? No sparring, no game. The fight isn’t over until you explicitly defeat your opponent.”

I look at him, helpless under my control but still struggling, his face grimacing in pain.

“What was your first impulse when you applied just this hold, hm? You wanted to stomp his genitals, right? It’s the most logical thing to do in this position.” Kimora is so abnormally relaxed in this strained situation. We exchange glances. “Just do it.”

A scream echoes through the dojo. My head whirls around. Leah has her opponent on the floor in some wicked armlock. She applies a vicious jerk and grins as she’s rewarded with an ugly crack from his limb. The screaming of her victim turns into a roar. Leah lifts her extended leg and hammers it down on the man’s face. The heel of her wrestling boot smashes just between his eyes, immediately silencing him. Leah stands up and stares down triumphantly on her opponent. He’s gurgling, one hand slackly reaching for his shattered nose bridge.

“Your friend has no needless inhibitions, obviously, but your fight is here and so your attention has to be here.” The stern tone of Kimora’s voice retrieves me to my own situation. “Finish the fight now!”

“No!” Hot anger wells up inside me. I release my opponent and take two steps back. He immediately struggles to get into fighting position again, but Kimora motions him to stop. Her insightful look enrages me even more.

“I’m not going to seriously harm someone just because you want me to! What a sick game is this? This is just training! In a real fight I will perform my attacks at full strength, make no mistake about it!” My outbreak is disgraceful, I know, but this is just ridiculous!

“Is that so?” Kimora’s sovereign tranquillity triggers a wave of burning rage in my stomach. I just want to hit her, but why am I so damned insecure?

“The two of us are going to fight. No infantile fuss, a real fight until one of us is out cold. I’m going to hit you as hard as I can and I advise you to do the same.” She waves the man away and slides into a relaxed fighting stance.

That came unexpected. My anger turns into chilling nervousness. Back down… no way! I have the advantage of strength and reach, no doubt. She is more experienced and appears calmer than I feel. About speed – we’ll see!

I lunge out with a left straight and immediately follow up with a right hook kick. Kimora easily dodges my punch and opens for my kick, which hits her left kidney area. That worked and my confidence rises. Don’t get boisterous, Kim…

It felt like a serious hit to me, but Kimora seems rather unaffected. She counterattacks to my left and I’m only barely able to divert the punch. Using the momentum I knee her, but I graze her hip and deliver only a weak hit. Nevertheless, I cut quite a figure against her.

More assertive now, I attack continuously and keep her on the defensive. I score several neat hits. A few times I even succeed to gain entry to joint locks, but Kimora always manages to free herself. She’s quick as mercury, that much I have to admit.

I lash out hard with my right leg. Kimora steps in while she blocks my kick and drives her fist into my teardrop muscle right above the knee. My inner thigh explodes in racking pain. Rattled, I take a step back but my knee threatens to give way.

Kimora’s foot comes up with such a light, playful ease, that the tremendous force takes me entirely by surprise as she drives the tip of her shoe into my solar plexus. The wind is knocked out of me and I find it impossible to fill my lungs again. My midriff feels like burning away in a white-hot supernova. My sight is somehow fogbound. Like paralysed, I only manage a feeble reaction as my opponent grips my wrist vicelike. She dashes me to the floor with brute force and twists my arm into a painful lock. Slowed, I see her raise her foot casually. She places the sole of her shoe square on my throat and steps down.

My eyes meet hers. I see neither mercy nor remorse. Her foot on my neck isn’t a just suggestion of her victory, it’s her grave ending of the fight. My windpipe is squeezed completely shut. I hear the blood roaring in my ears, starts dancing before my eyes… The tunnel vision… Good gawd, she’s going to kill me! She’ll make an example of me… need to break free… shrink her… concentrate…

Breathe! Lying on my back? No, it’s someone’s lap… Carl Grayson? He offers me a towel.

“Put this around your neck, it’ll set you up.” No towel but a cold compress.

Kimora stands next to me, looking down. She doesn’t seem disgruntled or triumphant, but there’s no pity for me either.

“How did I win?”

When I try to answer, I suffer a coughing bout.

“I’ve been reckless and underestimated you.” Is this croaking sincerely my own voice?

“You did, but that wasn’t the reason. I let you attack me at your own pace, even let you hit me. You scored several solid hits, yet you failed to get me into trouble. I hit you only twice before I finished you.” She shows no bossiness, no malice, only an allegation of facts.

To my own surprise, I don’t feel angry but ashamed. I nod contritely.

“You may think that you fought with all strength, but far from it. You were as reluctant as expected from someone unprepared. You are a powerful woman, if you hit me with all your strength, you’ll knock me out. But don’t worry, you’ll learn that.” Kimora smiles friendly and nods, then she walks away.

“That’s enough for today. Well done, until tomorrow at the same time.” Carl raises and lifts me gentle but irresistible up to my feet. 

Leah moans at the mentioning of getting up this early again the next day.