Disclaimer: The views and opinions in this story are not intended to be viewed as those of the author. The following is a fan-written fiction. Gravity Falls, Star vs. The Forces of Evil, Kim Possible, and Big Bad Beetleborgs are property of their respective owners, creators, and publishers. Please support the official releases.

TW: This story will contain references to physical and psychological abuse, murder, and torture.

|The First Peak|

Saturday morning at the Hill-Trank Plaza normally meant a full class for Sensei Brantley and his new assistant instructor, Marco. However, a few notable faces were missing from the students. Jeremy, who probably was never coming back to the dojo, was noticeably absent (to everyone's relief), but so were Roland and Jo–two of the three special cases that Marco was directly tutoring parallel to Sensei Brantley's regular instruction. Drew was here, though, once more wearing an unrolled turtleneck shirt under his gi to hide his face, though what was visible of his face was still plenty bruised.

He was standing opposite of Marco away from the rest of the class, who were all lined up to listen to Sensei Brantley's instructions.

"Class, today we are going to revisit the importance of breathing."

His class wasn't exactly focused on what their sensei was saying, because Marco and Drew squaring up after only a week of classes was… unexpected. The two bowed to one another, before Marco assumed a front stance, with his left foot forward pointed at his opponent, while Drew was in the opposing back stance–though it was a little sloppier.

"We've gone over how it is vitally important that you must breathe naturally. No holding your breath while striking, or while moving. Breathing brings oxygen to your lungs and spreads it through your body. If you're breathing naturally, you're moving naturally, there's no wasted energy."

As if to provide a perfect example of that, Marco breathed in and moved as he exhaled, firing a straight punch at Drew's face with his right hand. As Marco's punch approached, Drew's left hand came up, the back of his forearm connecting with Marco's wrist to direct the punch away from his face. The sudden and surprising speed of Drew's defense turned more heads of Brantley's students.

"Your breathing must be a rising and falling ocean wave. When you breathe in, your centers take in energy and diffuse it through the body. It's like an engine, you know?" Brantley continued.

Marco advanced and continued to strike as if his punches were pistons alternating in the engine Brantley described–each punch chambered and released with his breathing. Drew, withdrawing from him, used both his hands and forearms to block and deflect each blow while he was driven back towards the edge of the mat. That he could defend each strike competently had every student watching now in silence.

"How well you control your breathing, both in volume and efficiency, can determine many things. With concentration, something as deceptively simple as breathing can unlock the potential lying hidden within your body."

When Drew ran out of mat, Marco turned in place and his right leg came up in a spinning roundhouse kick aimed for the side of Drew's head–air hissing from his lips as he struck. Drew ducked under the kick before it even reached him. Marco brought down his right foot and with his left lashed out with a front kick that Drew evaded with similar ease.

"When you can master your breathing through total concentration, you may find yourself able to increase your heart rate and blood flow, sending more oxygen–more energy–to your muscles. Your body will be stronger, your blows will hit harder, and your movements will be faster."

Marco dropped down, his left leg sweeping across the mat towards Drew's ankles, but his defensive opponent moved quickly back to the center of the mat. Drew watched Marco move like it was in slow motion, because he could feel it before he could see it and process it as he could see it. That was the nature of his telekinesis–within the range of his power he could feel it. If he could feel it he could grasp it. If he could grasp it, he could move it.

It was a little frightening, everything that implied.

"As you breathe, your body strengthens, as your body strengthens, your breathing strengthens. On and on, every breath gives you the strength to fight, like, demons and stuff. It's pretty crazy."

Marco was rising from the floor, shouting a kiai as he turned his ascent into an uppercut. Drew followed the trajectory of his fist and raised his arm to meet at the point where he could deflect it.

So focused he was on Marco's movements in the present, however, that Drew did not think of his instructor's movements to follow. Marco's uppercut connected with his raised forearm as intended, but then he caught his forearm while his other arm caught him under his armpit. Still holding him, Marco turned and pivoted, and Drew was off his feet, rotating over his shoulder, and crashing to the floor on his back with a loud slap.

"This is called Total Concentration Breathing, as described by the author Agatsuma Zen–" The sudden loud impact interrupted Brantley, and he finally noticed his class wasn't paying attention to him.

Eyes shut tight, Drew thanked his stars that he had remembered his falling training and relaxed his body before impact. Opening his left eye, he looked up at Marco, who knelt down closer to him.

"Are you okay?" He asked in a whisper.

Drew nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine…"

Marco smiled. "Using your telekinesis like that is really cool, and really scary."

As Marco helped him up, Drew lamented. "It kind of sucks that I can't use it to predict grapples or throws."

"It can," Marco replied, "You were just holding back because we're in class."

Drew conceded to the point, as the rest of the class in question broke into applause. Stepping back from one another, Drew and Marco bowed to one another, before facing their classmates and Sensei Brantley, who walked over.

"Well done, Mr. McCormick, your defense against Marco's moves was excellent," the Master of the school congratulated.

Drew was a little confused, he was pretty sure Brantley had been just lecturing the class the whole time. "… You noticed?"

Sensei Brantley closed his eyes and nodded sagely. "Your ability to block and deflect Mr. Diaz's strikes was impressive. It was as if you could see them coming–even his footwork, which is his most dangerous strength."

Drew looked to Marco, seeking out an explanation for how Brantley seemed to notice their fight without looking, but only received a shoulder shrug. He dismissed that as he replied. "Well, for all the good being able to evade did… I couldn't do anything to Marco back."

"A good defense means that you have longer to decide how to end any situation you may be in. Don't sweat that you may not be able to strike, and definitely don't obsess over a win condition. Escaping one fight now means winning another fight later." Brantley's words were reassuring to Drew as they were correct. Surviving long enough against Saberizer gave Drew what he needed to win, there was no shame in trading distance for time.

Drew smiled a little, though it could not be seen through his raised collar and nodded towards Marco. "It'll be a while before I have a win condition against him."

"Maybe not as long a while as you think," Sensei Brantley replied before he hooked a thumb back to his students. "Anyway, I gotta get back to leading the class, try not to be too distracting with your epic clashes, okay?"

Marco and Drew both bowed. "Yes, sensei."

As they turned and walked back over to their set aside mats, Marco whispered aside to Drew. "He's right, you know. You'll catch up to me real soon at this rate."

"I'm not sure; knowing where my body is relative to everything else is one thing, actually using it to fight back… it doesn't feel right to me, like I can't trust my body to follow through with what I plan, sometimes," Drew admitted.

He looked towards the floor. "Against Saberizer I just had no choice."

"We don't have a choice against any of the Magnavores," Marco reminded him. "But we'll get that self-doubt out of you, yet."

With that in mind, he held up a fist. "Let's work on that, in fact. We're gonna practice some strikes."

Drew nodded and assumed a ready stance in front of Marco as he began explaining the form and function of basic strikes.

While Marco instructed and Drew quietly and attentively absorbed the lesson, Sensei Brantley glanced towards his assistant instructor's lesson. With a small hum, he returned his focus back to his students. "Where was I? Oh yeah, breathing and why this book I read means it might actually give you superpowers."

By the end of the class and numerous explanations and demonstrations, both Drew and Marco were a little struck out from all the striking, but Marco felt like some progress had been made. Drew didn't need much to develop a competent form in his strikes, and that was very good. Getting the basics down quick meant moving on to more advanced forms sooner.

Most of all, though, it meant he could do better in real battle.

As they left the changing room back in their regular clothes, he asked Drew. "Are you going to be all right going to the dance? I was pretty rough on you today."

"I'll be fine, thanks," Drew reassured him.

"What about your Dad?" Marco asked. "Aren't you still grounded?"

"I am, but I don't really care. My parents won't even be home tonight, so why should I?"

Marco, who would gladly follow rules and respect boundaries set out by parents, wanted to suggest against it–but he was interrupted by Sensei Brantley. "Mr. Diaz, I need to have a word with you before we lock up."

"Yes, Sensei," Marco said, before addressing Drew. "Well… you do you, I guess. Have fun at the dance."

Drew bowed in respect to Marco. "I'll try. Thank you for looking out for Jo tonight."

"Buddy, you and I both know that I'm not going to be the one watching her."

Both pursed their lips and nodded in agreement. Dipper was in for a long night.

With a shrug of his shoulders, he turned to leave. "Well, good luck anyway."

"Yeah, later." Marco followed Drew to the door and closed it after him. After locking it, he turned to Sensei Brantley. "So, what's going on, Sensei?"

"A serious matter," Sensei Brantley said as he gestured for Marco to join him at the center of the dojo's mats. He was seated, with his legs folded in the lotus position.

Serious? From his sensei? Marco walked over and sat seiza before him. "Is this about the raccoon in the dumpster out back? I'm not fighting that thing again, I had to get rabies shots."

Sensei Brantley looked haunted for a moment at the mention of that vile creature, but soon shrugged it off. "No, nothing so dire. I actually wanted to speak with you about your recent battles against the forces of evil."

Marco brightened. "You've seen the fights?" He bounced a little where he sat, now interested in what his teacher thought of them.

His master nodded. "That is correct, Marco. The last couple of fights this week are all over the internet–though they keep getting taken down."

"I've seen a few of them too," Marco agreed. "Some of the angles are kind of bad, but some are so good that they put music to them. It's awesome."

Sensei Brantley perked up as well. "Yeah, dude, the one set to "Given Up" by Linkin Park was pretty tight–" He stopped himself. "But we're not here to discuss sick IRL AMVs."

He took a deep breath. "I've been paying attention to how you fight the Magnavores specifically, Mr. Diaz and…"

Marco leaned forward slightly, expectantly. "Yes?"

In a tone unbecoming of Sensei Brantley thanks to its gravity, he continued. "… The Magnavores have been holding back on you, bro."

A brief, but heavy silence hung in the air after that, as Marco's expression shifted to one of confusion. He was not at all sure of what his sensei was talking about.

"Uh… are you sure you were watching me fight?" Marco asked. "Because I was there and let me assure you that Typhus was not holding back. Neither were his Scabs."

Sensei Brantley expected that response. "Mr. Diaz, who closes the fights you've been getting into with them?"

"The Beetleborgs and Star," Marco quickly replied like it was obvious. "What, do you think I can't run with them, or what?"

"Not at all," Sensei Brantley corrected his student. "Heck, the fact that you can keep up with the Beetleborgs and your girlfriend–"

"We're not dating," Marco interjected, still not wanting his relationship status to leave his house.

Brantley stopped again, before he resumed. "Sorry; the fact that you can keep up with the Beetleborgs and your friend who is a girl that you do everything with and who lives with you–not jealous–is great…"

Marco anticipated the size of the "but" to follow accurately.

"… BUT…"

It was a big but and he could not lie.

"… They have the firepower to do what your fists can't."

That was… not untrue. Marco looked at his hands and closed and opened his fists. He said so himself a few nights before: that Star was the one carrying the team with both her magic and years of fighting experience that well-surpassed him and the Beetleborgs' put together handily. It also stood to reason that while he was good at cracking Scabs, none of them could put Typhus down in a straight fight without Star's magic on their side.

"I guess you're right," he copped before growing more serious. "But that's not going to stop me from fighting. They need my help, we need all the help we can get, actually."

"That is most righteous of you, Mr. Diaz, but you're already at your limit… and you need to start exploring how you're going to go up to the next level," Sensei Brantley replied.

"The next level?" Marco looked down at the red belt holding his gi closed, then looked back up. "… You mean, going to Black Belt?"

Sensei Brantley shook his head. "This is going to sound totally nuts coming from me, but… there is nothing this school can teach you that will help you out there. Not with what you're up against, at least."

Marco drew back, struck. "Uhh... everything I've been using out there is stuff I've learned from this school."

"And I am super proud that you think that Mr. Diaz."

Another big one was coming.

"BUT."

There it is.

"… This is still a barely above-board Tang Soo Do dojo smack between a record store and a froyo spot. The oldest student here only has a month on you, and you're already at the penultimate level of advancement within the school's curriculum."

Shouldn't that be evidence to the contrary, of how good he's been doing? Marco was more confused. "Yeah, but I've been kicking butt."

"You haven't even begun to kick butt, Mr. Diaz. I'm not thrashing my own dojo, I'm just aware of where it stands in the whole wide world of martial arts, and you gotta respect where it is… and where you are, too." Sensei Brantley opened his eyes and looked dead straight into Marco's. "Think of martial arts as mountain climbing. This dojo, is one such mountain and you're almost at the top of it."

Marco nodded. "Okay?"

"… But this is only the first peak of an endless range, and you won't be able to see their summits from here."

Just like that, Marco understood what his master was saying. It surprised him that Sensei Brantley could say something so profound and yet perfectly explained what the situation was. "Wow, I get it. I understand what you're trying to say! There's only so much that what I learned here can do for me, but… then where do I go to learn how to fight something like monsters?"

He paused to think. "I could ask Star to train me…"

Sensei Brantley held up a hand. "You don't have to go as far as another dimension or summon things from comic books to see some really crazy stuff, Mr. Diaz. You'll find that past the walls of this dojo, the stuff people out there can do will blow your mind." As if it were an afterthought, he added. "If I were you, though? Totally ask your so-not-your-girlfriend for pointers, bro. She's a killer, raised to be one, and can be one. I can tell."

Marco glared neutrally at Sensei Brantley before he bowed deeply to his master. "Thank you, Sensei. This was really good advice; I'll take it to heart."

"It's no big deal; I'm your sensei, after all, and I gotta look out for my students–especially my assistant. Do you have any idea how much better this place has been since I gave you the spot? I mean, it was already running good with you crunching the numbers, but now there's not even a backlog of paperwork anymore, it's crazy."

He began to sit up from the lotus pose. "Like, I have so much free time that I've started online dating, and I'm killing it out there, bro."

Now Marco was proud of his Sensei. "No kidding?"

"For real! I thought it would be hard or something. But do you have any idea how many ladies are into a guy who stays fit, runs his own business, and takes care of his Mom?"

That pride dimmed a bit as Marco's expression slipped back into a flat glare. That sounded suspiciously like a lot of broad things a guy would put on his dating profile to make himself sound better than the details would show.

Sensei Brantley flinched away from Marco's gaze. "Don't give me that look! Nothing I said was false!"

"Uh huh, sure", Marco replied, "Just, um, don't bring any dates home and expect them to clean your windows for you, bro."

Sensei Brantley winced again. "That hurt, Mr. Diaz." He brought a hand to his heart. "Right here."

Marco smiled at Sensei Brantley, who smiled back, and both laughed. Getting up, Sensei Brantley gestured to himself. "Let's grab some lunch, what do you say?"

"I say you're buying," Marco replied.

Sensei Brantley was fine with that. "Very well, we shall go grab Britta's, but uh… if you want extras in you're burrito you're gonna have to cough up a bit."

Marco rolled his his eyes, and shrugged his shoulders in agreement as master and student headed off.

A/N: Short and sweet, we're having a look at how the team's holding up.