fhall. We are the quiet ones. We are the men who stay after and train in silence, letting our crisp sleeves snap and speak for us.
"Sensei, my arms are killing me! I think I learned enough today..." I really meant it. At the time, my shoulders were burning and my forearms had lost all feeling. My fists were practically dead weight, curled up and kept that way only because of sheer dedication. Even though I could feel them drop, I never stopped. Stopping meant quitting; quitting wasn't allowed in the dojo. Sensei Victor didn't quit, and he would never allow his students to.
"Hey! You wanted to learn this move, you begged for it. Now this is how we learn it. Keep at it!" He flared his arms with perfect form, diving low into the stance and using speed I didn't know existed. It fit him, in a way; he was a master to me. He was the sensei.
"I know, sensei, but you didn't tell me it was this bad!" Eventually, my arms gave out; I ended up using momentum to keep myself afloat. I couldn't let him know I'd lost. I ended up flailing so far I almost struck his chin.
"Daniel! Watch what you're-HAA!-doing!" With the force of winter winds, he tossed my fist aside and took my by the arm. "I think we should stop then. You didn't tell me you were hurting that bad." With a flick, he twirled me around and pushed me towards my bag and seat. It was like a small sailboat, that bag, amidst a sea of folding chairs and turquoise tiles. Seeing it meant defeat, meant it was time to leave. Seeing that bag meant 'pack up', in the absolute nicest way he could say it.
"But sensei, I don't want to go home yet! It's still....10 minutes before Adult Swim!" I was never able to watch Adult Swim when I was younger. As time passed, it became a metaphor, a name for me to tag any abstract concept I wasn't old enough to see. I couldn't see the adults practice, I was never allowed to stay that late. I could only make that half-hour after the youth classes last, and hope I'd learned enough to stay on par with the adults, whom I'd never even seen. They became the goal, the finish line.
"Daniel, you can barely control yourself. What is the one point I stress every day?" The stern look in his eyes told me that he was right, that I was testing limits I didn't have.
"C-control, sensei." I could feel my heart drop like an elevator with the wires cut. The bag creaked slightly and called out to me, zipping itself open. Even my vibrant orange belt looked a little dingy, raggedy at the edges from all the falls and scrapes. "I'm sorry. I'll pack up."
"Wait! I said we should stop practicing. I never said pack up. We just don't have to work on this one. I'll teach you one that's all feet; this one's easier to learn." He smiled wide. Seeing a student too close to quitting must've taken him back to his days in my shoes, when he had fists that felt two sizes too small and sparring partners three sizes too tall. Somewhere inside, his master felt the same way, like peels of an onion. "Now, pull forward stance."
"Yes, sensei!" I obeyed like a soldier under a general who fought with him on the front lines, sharing in glory and falls. As I slid into stance, his eyes grew fierce. "Now what, sensei!?" My shouts rang out across the dojo.
"Watch carefully." His feet washed across the floor like geists, gliding without touching it. "C-step this way, and stick your leg out like that. See how it looks like I'm about to sweep kick?" His body sank and met his center of gravity, twirling on the spot. "Then you put your hands here and kick like this!" With a twist, he rolled around and began a set of double barreled breakneck kicks that would have broken down the Berlin Wall. As he finished, the air where his feet went rocketing through shimmered, brimming with some flared energy. "And that's the Piston Kick Set. Come on, you can try."
"Sensei, I can't even move my arms right! How do you expect me to HOLD MYSELF UP and KICK?" I would have crossed my arms, but I spoke the truth. I could barely move them, holding them up in stance was already hell. "And another thing, I can't kick that fast! I'LL FALL."
"Hey, you think my sensei went easy on me? Nooo. He pushed me so I could get here, and teach you. Maybe someday you'll teach someone else, and you'll know why you have to push them too." He began the set again, his gi legs snapping like dogs on the other side of the fence; fierce and mysterious in their shadows. "Now try."
As I stuck my leg out, a fire broke out on my shoulders. I dropped them and almost split my legs in two as I fell. He lunged forward and caught me by the collar of my jacket, undoing the ties and sliding me out of it. On the floor, all I could see was the bright overhead suns of the dojo blaring in my irises and the silhouette of his face. Words rang out that burned into the back of my head.
"Daniel? Didn't I tell you to tie your gi right? How do you expect me to teach you when you don't even have the necessary precautions in place? Honestly, Daniel, I'm only one sensei." He clucked a little in dissatisfaction, then tossed my jacket aside. "But if you're willing to give it another try, so am I." He pulled me up and I spun around to face the clock; the time read 9:30. Adult Swim was beginning.
"Sensei, it's alright. Adult Swim's coming soon. I should just pack up."
"Are you sure? You don't want to see the adults do their moves?"
"No. I've already learned enough." I walked solemnly over to my bag and balled my uniform up inside, shouldering it with no strength. "Besides, it's not like I could beat them anyway. I'm just a kid."
As I walked out the dojo doors, a fierce burn hit me right in the heart. The look on his face was drilling a hole right through my chest, anger and disappointment and confusion. I had crushed his heart and spirit in one swift move.
Before my foot hit the first step into the cold night air, I spoke for the last time. "Besides. I'll be here tomorrow, no matter how much my arms hurt." I didn't have to turn back to know he smiled.
"Sensei, my arms are killing me! I think I learned enough today..." I really meant it. At the time, my shoulders were burning and my forearms had lost all feeling. My fists were practically dead weight, curled up and kept that way only because of sheer dedication. Even though I could feel them drop, I never stopped. Stopping meant quitting; quitting wasn't allowed in the dojo. Sensei Victor didn't quit, and he would never allow his students to.
"Hey! You wanted to learn this move, you begged for it. Now this is how we learn it. Keep at it!" He flared his arms with perfect form, diving low into the stance and using speed I didn't know existed. It fit him, in a way; he was a master to me. He was the sensei.
"I know, sensei, but you didn't tell me it was this bad!" Eventually, my arms gave out; I ended up using momentum to keep myself afloat. I couldn't let him know I'd lost. I ended up flailing so far I almost struck his chin.
"Daniel! Watch what you're-HAA!-doing!" With the force of winter winds, he tossed my fist aside and took my by the arm. "I think we should stop then. You didn't tell me you were hurting that bad." With a flick, he twirled me around and pushed me towards my bag and seat. It was like a small sailboat, that bag, amidst a sea of folding chairs and turquoise tiles. Seeing it meant defeat, meant it was time to leave. Seeing that bag meant 'pack up', in the absolute nicest way he could say it.
"But sensei, I don't want to go home yet! It's still....10 minutes before Adult Swim!" I was never able to watch Adult Swim when I was younger. As time passed, it became a metaphor, a name for me to tag any abstract concept I wasn't old enough to see. I couldn't see the adults practice, I was never allowed to stay that late. I could only make that half-hour after the youth classes last, and hope I'd learned enough to stay on par with the adults, whom I'd never even seen. They became the goal, the finish line.
"Daniel, you can barely control yourself. What is the one point I stress every day?" The stern look in his eyes told me that he was right, that I was testing limits I didn't have.
"C-control, sensei." I could feel my heart drop like an elevator with the wires cut. The bag creaked slightly and called out to me, zipping itself open. Even my vibrant orange belt looked a little dingy, raggedy at the edges from all the falls and scrapes. "I'm sorry. I'll pack up."
"Wait! I said we should stop practicing. I never said pack up. We just don't have to work on this one. I'll teach you one that's all feet; this one's easier to learn." He smiled wide. Seeing a student too close to quitting must've taken him back to his days in my shoes, when he had fists that felt two sizes too small and sparring partners three sizes too tall. Somewhere inside, his master felt the same way, like peels of an onion. "Now, pull forward stance."
"Yes, sensei!" I obeyed like a soldier under a general who fought with him on the front lines, sharing in glory and falls. As I slid into stance, his eyes grew fierce. "Now what, sensei!?" My shouts rang out across the dojo.
"Watch carefully." His feet washed across the floor like geists, gliding without touching it. "C-step this way, and stick your leg out like that. See how it looks like I'm about to sweep kick?" His body sank and met his center of gravity, twirling on the spot. "Then you put your hands here and kick like this!" With a twist, he rolled around and began a set of double barreled breakneck kicks that would have broken down the Berlin Wall. As he finished, the air where his feet went rocketing through shimmered, brimming with some flared energy. "And that's the Piston Kick Set. Come on, you can try."
"Sensei, I can't even move my arms right! How do you expect me to HOLD MYSELF UP and KICK?" I would have crossed my arms, but I spoke the truth. I could barely move them, holding them up in stance was already hell. "And another thing, I can't kick that fast! I'LL FALL."
"Hey, you think my sensei went easy on me? Nooo. He pushed me so I could get here, and teach you. Maybe someday you'll teach someone else, and you'll know why you have to push them too." He began the set again, his gi legs snapping like dogs on the other side of the fence; fierce and mysterious in their shadows. "Now try."
As I stuck my leg out, a fire broke out on my shoulders. I dropped them and almost split my legs in two as I fell. He lunged forward and caught me by the collar of my jacket, undoing the ties and sliding me out of it. On the floor, all I could see was the bright overhead suns of the dojo blaring in my irises and the silhouette of his face. Words rang out that burned into the back of my head.
"Daniel? Didn't I tell you to tie your gi right? How do you expect me to teach you when you don't even have the necessary precautions in place? Honestly, Daniel, I'm only one sensei." He clucked a little in dissatisfaction, then tossed my jacket aside. "But if you're willing to give it another try, so am I." He pulled me up and I spun around to face the clock; the time read 9:30. Adult Swim was beginning.
"Sensei, it's alright. Adult Swim's coming soon. I should just pack up."
"Are you sure? You don't want to see the adults do their moves?"
"No. I've already learned enough." I walked solemnly over to my bag and balled my uniform up inside, shouldering it with no strength. "Besides, it's not like I could beat them anyway. I'm just a kid."
As I walked out the dojo doors, a fierce burn hit me right in the heart. The look on his face was drilling a hole right through my chest, anger and disappointment and confusion. I had crushed his heart and spirit in one swift move.
Before my foot hit the first step into the cold night air, I spoke for the last time. "Besides. I'll be here tomorrow, no matter how much my arms hurt." I didn't have to turn back to know he smiled.
