Session 4

Barefoot, Spike tiptoed through the deserted hall. Over an hour ago, Sensei had left him after the impromptu middle of the night lesson. Still pumped up from the morning's hazing, he knew he couldn't meditate on his own, as he'd been instructed to.

There were other boys.

That had been quite a shock. And yet he realized it shouldn't have been. After all, Sensei and Yenrai had mentioned others. But others his age? On the other side of the dojo? There was another side? Too great of a lure, he abandoned the small private room to explore.

Silence had pervaded the whole of his tiny little world for a full hour. Encouraged, Spike snuck through the hall discovering the locked door. He reached into his jean pocket and pulled out the lock pick. It was short work, the simple lock yielded to his skilled fingers.

He slipped into the hallway and kept tight to the wall, drawn toward the periodic chorus of shouts. Peering around the corner he beheld a large room. The walls were either windows showing the sun shining off the water or mirrors reflecting the boys standing in tight rows all mimicking the sensei's sure moves. They were drilling, performing routines in a similar fashion to what Spike had done early in the morning. Only much more advanced.

Over a dozen of them, various ages, spread out across the floor all dressed similar to what Spike had been given for training. A plain simple white gi. Though he noted many bore faint stains, splatters like diluted blood. Proof that things were going to get real at some point in the near future.

Front and center to the group his eyes caught the silver-haired boy from the other night. Flanked by the other two. The larger brute of a boy and the smaller one, who now sported two black eyes and a bruised nose. Spike grinned, he'd left his mark on that one. Granted, it had been a total accident, it still counted. Right?

But his eyes drifted back to the fair-haired boy. His stance and strikes to the air portrayed refined aggression. Violet colored eyes stared with pure venom through the mirror as he kicked and threw punches, exhaling each breath with a harsh call. He was precise. He was strong. He was a beacon drawing the others as they observed him.

Spike felt a thrill run down his spine as he imagined being among them. He didn't even know a fraction of what they were doing, and yet the smallest among them had a glint of confidence in his eyes as he turned into the forms.

Sensei called them to a halt, bringing his fist into his palm. "To the edges." The boys quickly left the center of the mat, toeing the lines that drew a box on the floor as they knelt in orderly rows. Sensei gestured to the silver-haired boy. "Vicious, as you have insisted on calling yourself, you and Gable will spar."

The other boy, the same who had been holding the cord earlier, stepped up to the line opposite Vicious. Curious name, Spike mused and pressed closer to the corner, keeping just out of sight as he watched the reflections. Gable eyed the sensei, a note of panic in his eyes. He sunk into the stance, a tremble seizing his hands. Vicious sunk down into the posture. Cold confidence oozed from him as he held out his hand leading with a palm flared.

A smile distorted Vicious's face. Something twisted. Not a smile of joy. This expression mocked pleasure, drawing from a dark well deep inside. Even before he moved, Spike couldn't deny that boy left him with a strange vibe.

Sensei dropped his hand. The match began.

Vicious lunged into Gable driving his fist through the attempt to guard. In a cracking blow to the chest, Gable bent over only to receive a follow through from a kick. He went down in a breathless pile. His hands came up to protect his head even as Vicious drew back for another strike.

"Enough." Sensei called out.

That didn't stop the follow through. Vicious's strike connected in between Gable's shoulder blades, releasing a cry.

Sensei folded his arms. "Why must you always do that?"

Vicious met his gaze, the smile vanishing, leaving behind an emotionless expression. "There is no point in showing mercy to the enemy."

"Gable is not your enemy, you do not need to destroy him. He is merely a sparring partner."

"An unworthy one." The tone was almost bored. "Just like the rest, none of them challenge me. It's hard to take them seriously."

Sensei narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms. "We're not discussing this now. You, Gable, and Kieran are still in trouble for that stunt you pulled last night."

"That wasn't a stunt. It was an impression."

"The rules are the rules. There is no fighting outside of the designated rooms. I thought I made that clear last time."

Gable had pried himself off the mat and now knelt beside Kieran. The names where easy to deduce as they both tucked their heads in guilt. The other boys all glanced at the guilty party. Some snickered, others looked worried.

"Gable, I trust you see your folly and won't be so swift to disobey my orders next time." He glanced at the other boy. "I spared Kieran because he already took a shot to the face for following Vicious."

Vicious lifted his chin, still standing in the center of the mat. "I didn't need his help. I am more than a match for that scrawny thing Yenrai dragged in."

Stepping into the mat, Sensei towered over Vicious. "What your master brings in is his business, not yours. And if you ever plan on leaving this dojo, as you feel you are competent already, you must learn respect."

"Show me something worthy of my respect."

Sensei's fists tightened so much he trembled. After a moment, he crossed the room, picked up the banner and threw the cut cord on it. "You are done training for today. Instead you will spend your time repairing the damage you have done to my grandfather's banner."

With a breath through a nose, Vicious grabbed the bundle from his arms and stalked to a corner of the room. Spike realized the boy was coming his way. He agreed with Sensei, he wasn't ready to face them yet. Silent as possible, he dashed back down the hall, locking the door behind him.

Intriguing. Every last bit of it. Spike laid down in the bed and cradled his head in his hands. That glimpse fueled his desire to train. Sure he didn't have a clue what he was doing yet. But now he had incentive.

Today's lessons were as turbulent as Leonard had suspected they would be after the night's events. Vicious, that boy. No matter what he did he couldn't convince him to drop the name. If he had his say that boy would be turned out of the dojo for his unruly behavior. Four years since entering training had done nothing to change his attitude for the better. If anything the more skillful he became, the more arrogantly he flaunted. Unfortunately, the final say in any matter was Mao's. And the Red Dragon Capo had promised the boy's mother he would forge a future. He was honor bound. One way or another, Vicious was slated to become an enforcer.

Each passing lesson he felt less confidence that Vicious would survive initiation. Not because he wasn't tough or skilled enough. Quite the opposite, because he would likely throw a punch at the biggest guy in a bar just to prove a point. It was a good thing he was only a twelve-year-old. Leonard had a valid excuse to keep him in training.

Locking the door behind him, he padded toward the small bedroom. "Spike?" The room was empty. A faint huffing sound caught his attention. He followed it to the smaller training room and paused in the doorway.

Spike, already dressed to practice, was working through the routine he'd been shown early that morning. By now it was late afternoon, and he had shown remarkable progress in shifting his balance. This was not the soft routine he'd taught the day before, but one that involved employing force. Leonard hated to rush to attack and defense strategies, but as usual his boys had other ideas. No matter what he did, Spike was within their reach.

Spike turned out of one of the moves and looked toward him, a moment of surprise crossing his features before he placed a fist in his palm and bowed. "I figured I'd get started early, Sensei."

Hope sparked in that gesture. The skittish boy that had scrambled for the safety of a high shelf now stood in the middle of the room starting his routine on his own. Not defiant, but an honorable self-initiative. Leonard dared to believe that there might be a bit of hope for this little one. "Did you eat?"

Spike nodded. "Yes, not sure what was on the tray in my room, but it was tasty. Especially the little meat chunks."

Good. The pale boy still needed a good deal to catch up.

Leonard smiled and strode to the center, facing the mirror, "Let's take that routine from the start. If you have it down, we'll add some more segments."

Immediately, Spike took the first stance before the mirror. A calm determination in his eyes.

See You Space Cowboy