3. Dio - Rainbow In The Dark
Standing up from my kneeling position at the side I stepped into the middle of our little circle of students and faced my sparring partner. We gave each other the proper bow in greeting and I gladly used the precious seconds to get my giddiness under control.
Despite my better judgment, I had been feeling high on life for the past two years. I had finally said addio to my old 9 to 5 life and ciao to my new, exciting, and somewhat badass life.
Taking an appropriate stance for an opponent of bigger size, I eyed him for any signs or hints of a possible tactic.
Instead, he held back, wary of making a wrong move against me.
I kept a lid on my pride, I knew I was good and there was a goddamn reason why an 8-year-old orange/green belt was sparring with teenaged purple belts.
Primary school, a bit of work at the pizzeria, lessons and private lessons plus work at the dojo and then back to work at the pizzeria. I was busy, but it felt like a good busy and the results spoke for themselves.
Peppe and 'the old folk' were fond of me, they probably saw the Panessa name going the right way and I was making serious strides in my chosen discipline since I was hellbent on going as far as I could with what I had.
I never had any plans beyond the next week, because I honestly had no idea where to start since I was a 'casual' regarding everything around me. There wasn't even a Batman as far as I was aware, not even a Superman, and I had honestly no fucking clue what that meant.
Centering myself, I stepped forward and took the initiative. We engaged in a short grapple for the better hold until I felt my opponent noticeably shift to my right, from the corner of my eye I also saw him try to position his left foot behind my right leg and got a fairly good idea of what he was intending to do.
Ko-soto-gari
Taking a small and quick step forward with my left foot, I planted myself in a solid position, while simultaneously lowering my center of gravity. My solid grip, a quick and deceptive burst of strength, and my forward movement were enough to destroy the rest of his balance, which he had already sacrificed to an extent by initiating his attack.
A heartbeat later I whipped him off his feet and on his back, which left him wheezing.
Uchimata Sukashi
Back in position, all post-match formalities exchanged between us, Mr. Lamar signaled the end of today's lesson.
This was also the sign for me to head into the backroom and busy myself until all the parents collected their kids and we could carry on with my private lessons.
My presence wasn't exactly conducive to business. While indifferent towards my pastime Uncle Peppe had still felt the need to pull the same thing he did when I started primary school.
Initially, it had been a tiny bit funny seeing him sitting on the bench at the window next to some housewives and mothers waiting for us to finish our lessons, but I quickly had noticed some kids not turning up for the next lessons.
Feeling it possibly threaten my deal with Mr. Lamar I had stepped in to smooth some feathers.
As compensation for lost customers, I kept Uncle Peppe away from the dojo and hung up a flyer of it in the restaurant and would occasionally spread them when I handed out the flyers for 'Uncle Peppe's'.
Furthermore, I had managed to set up a 'patrol', that would drive through the street every few days without the whole spiel of protection money. Unnoticeable to the moms and dads, but the gangbangers would get the message.
In exchange, I had to learn how to operate the espresso machine and cough up ten dollars a week, which would eventually go into the pockets of the person doing the rounds. Funnily enough, I was more or less breaking even now with the pay of my job and the cost of my regular lessons.
Putting the last gis from a previous session out of the washing machine and into the dryer I checked if the coast was clear and headed back out for my private lessons.
While friendly and far from unpleasant, Mr. Lamar still couldn't fully ignore my background and the lessons tended to feel like private tutoring for a kid that was struggling in math or something. It all felt a bit formal and professional, but I had quickly grown accustomed to it and after some thought, I actually preferred it this way.
An hour later my stint for the day in the dojo was done, I waved goodbye and stepped into a cold afternoon pervaded with a late autumn dreariness that seemed to cover the whole city.
I saw a familiar car with tinted windows coming my way and raised my hand in greeting. A single flash of the headlamps was its response and it gently carried on. Yeah, as long as I ignored everything beneath the surface, I could easily pretend we were just a big tight-knit family quietly going after our business.
Hand still raised, my good cheer was suddenly blown away in an instant, because just past the approaching car, on the other side of the road, I noticed a middle-aged woman with hurried steps walk in the opposite direction.
What caught my attention, however, were the frightened stares over her shoulder. Following her gaze, I saw the reason for her fear, and it made my blood boil.
Mind already on autopilot, images seen and imagined flashing before my inner eye, I heedlessly stepped onto the road and absentmindedly signaled for the car to stop as I crossed the street with purposeful steps.
My eyes never straying from the three men some 30 feet away heading in the same direction as the frightened woman.
The three haggard-looking men were eyeing the woman like starved animals and only seemed to really notice me when I parked myself squarely in the middle of the sidewalk between them and their prey.
Both feet apart, back straight, chin up, I looked them directly in the eyes. At this moment I was not a child, I was an adult with a big ass knife and trained in violence.
I saw them slow but not stop. Alright then.
Teeth grinding, blood roaring in my ears, I was pumped for some bloodshed.
Gangbangers, bottom-feeders, making a living at the edges of the bigger territories, you could listen to Peppe for hours when he got a glass too much and was on a roll about them. No men, ruining the neighborhood, bla bla bla.
But I was of a similar opinion. Who the fuck did they think they were? To me, they were rotten Junkies, not much better than rabies ridden animals. They were the reason people couldn't walk the streets at night, being at the bottom of the totem pole they jumped at every chance to get their hands on what they considered prey.
Prey, that I considered defenseless people, worth ten times than these lowlifes.
Just the thought of Claudia or one of the mothers that regularly picked up their child at the dojo ending in a situation like that woman basically cemented my decision.
I didn't care about dying, maybe I would even earn some brownie points for the next great adventure, but I was going to make them bleed. A lot.
Nearby I heard a car door open, but I didn't care, I slowly and deliberately pulled my right hand out of my pocket and held it loosely at my side, in perfect view of those fuckers.
A slight press with my thumb and with an impossibly laud snap the blade sprung free, and the punks suddenly stopped some 10 feet away, now clearly wary.
"What the fuck do you think you are doing in this neighborhood?" I asked loud and clear, rage bubbling beneath the surface.
All around silence.
"I asked you a FUCKING QUESTION!" I tried to shout but screamed instead in my childish voice. I took an aggressive step towards them, arms spread wide, practically inviting them to come at me.
Blood was rushing in my ears, they were mumbling something to each other, I couldn't hear it, their nervous fidgeting was starting to piss me off.
"The boy asked you a question." A deadly calm voice suddenly said next to me and I almost jumped out of my skin and pissed my pants in one go.
Looking over my shoulder towards the street I saw Paulie, one of Peppe's oldest associates, holding a gun the same way I held my knife, ready to go.
Suddenly they turned tail, and ran, like fucking rats they scampered away.
I took a couple of breaths, desperately trying to get my nerves under control, bringing my hands up to close my knife I didn't fail to notice my shaking hands.
Suddenly I felt a hand on my shoulder, and barely withheld a flinch.
"Come on, sonny, I drive you back to Peppe's."
I nodded, but glanced down the street, and was somewhat glad to see the woman gone.
It was five minutes into the ride when I finally noticed, that Paulie wasn't heading directly to Peppe's and was actually seeming to do some rounds around the blocks.
I shot him a questioning look, which he seemed to have noticed.
"You did good, was a damn fine show, kiddo." He said, and I heard the sincerity in his voice, but I couldn't help but note that he seemed uncharacteristically distracted.
"Alright," He said finally, apparently having come to a decision. "You think you could recognize those three bastards?"
Caught off guard, I closed my eyes, and the memories practically assaulted me. A jumbled mess, but…
"Yeah," I nodded. "Yeah, I could." I said after some concentration with conviction.
Suddenly, he slowed and pulled over.
He turned and looked me straight in the eyes. Excitement shining through.
"This stays between us, you hear, not a word to Peppe, alright?!" He said and continued when I wordlessly nodded.
"Tomorrow you going to call your yogi and you will tell him that you are sick for the rest of the week. You will still go outside at the usual times and walk a few blocks in his direction." He instructed and carried on when he saw that I was still following.
"I will get Bobby and a van, and together, the three of us will take a look around the neighborhood for those lowlifes." Suddenly a big smile spread across his face. "We are going to show you the ropes of the family business."
'Oh fuck.'
The doorbell jingled above, and Paulie playfully shoved me into the pizzeria, now his usual self again.
"Peppe!" He cried joyfully, uncaring of the handful of guests enjoying their dinner, and steered me right towards my cousin, who had been quietly conversing with his brother at the bar.
I kept my face blank and held Peppe's questioning look until I was unceremoniously hoisted on top of the barstool between my cousins by Paulie.
He clapped them both on the shoulder and this time luckily mindful of listening ears crowed with honest elation.
"You should have seen the boy." He swooned.
And then he told the story, Italian gesticulation rampant, while I tried to reach the bottle of Coca Cola behind the counter and ignore the gazes of my family members burning in my sides.