Jaime knew picking up a martial art after five years of not practicing was going to be rough, but he didn’t know it was going to change his life. The grueling workouts left him barely able to walk the next morning. He had even swallowed enough pride to put on a white belt after being so close to testing for black belt in his old club. The years he had spent in his last dojo had taught him the benefit of hard work and the importance of humility. Going to college and indulging in some newfound vices hadn’t wiped away his love of martial arts even if it had made his body soft.
Now Jaime had earned his degree in audio engineering, survived a grueling internship, and obtained a coveted entry-level job as a soundboard technician at a local recording studio, he was ready to put his party days behind him—mostly. It was time he started taking care of himself a little better.
After all, he was rapidly approaching thirty, and stumbling home at three in the morning to spend a full day recovering was becoming less and less appealing. While he prided himself on his lean physique, he was a far cry from the fighting form he had achieved in high school when he would train five days a week. It was his healthy addiction, and he loved every part of training. Well, almost every part.
When Sensei Melissa called for a partner switch, Jaime prepared himself. He had almost managed to block out the reason he’d left his old dojo. He had learned the hard way not everyone was eager to pair up with an openly gay man. While he didn’t flaunt his sexuality, he wasn’t going to hide it either. That was another painful lesson, among many, he had learned.
Jaime waited for everyone to pick a partner and was prepared to deal with whoever was left. There was no way he was going to approach one of the testosterone junkies who only saw pink when they looked at him. It was like being in high school gym class all over again waiting for someone to choose him. He’d already worked with Sarah, the only woman in class that night. With his luck, he was going to end up with one of the knuckleheads who thought he was training for a pay-per-view match. Most of the guys weren’t that bad, even if they were a little skittish around Jaime. A few of them gave Jaime the hairy eyeball every time he walked into class. He didn’t want to have to leave another dojo when he’d just started to get back into training and remembered how much he loved it.
When everyone else had partnered, Steve looked like he’d drawn the shortest stick as he headed toward Jaime. The green belt’s mouth twisted, and his gaze hardened. Jaime knew Steve was probably one of the worst of the testosterone junkies. They seemed to thrive on showing off their prowess on the lower ranks. Jaime kept his eyes fixed on the ground as they bowed. He could almost feel Steve’s laser gaze on the back of his skull. As long as Jaime didn’t do anything to antagonize him, he would just have to put up with a few extra bruises. Unfortunately, the fact that Jaime breathed the same air as Steve seemed to be enough to rev Steve up to ultimate fighter mode.
“Hajime. Begin.”
After Sempai Randy gave the first count, Jaime threw a tentative punch that barely closed the distance between him and Steve. Hopefully, he’d go easy on Jaime. Without hesitation, Steve scooted in and wrenched Jaime’s arm until he was forced to his knees. No such luck. Jaime’s gaze stayed fixed on the floor as he waited for Steve to release him. The less he moved, the less pain he would experience. As it was, his shoulder was on fire. He just had to wait it out. Sensei Melissa had never let anyone take things too far in the dojo. Otherwise, Jaime wouldn’t have been back for the next class. Jaime always believed a little pain was good for the soul, but Steve took that principle a little too seriously.
“Yame.” Mercifully, Sensei Melissa called an end to the exercise. “Steve, you’re with me. Jaime, go work with Tyler.”
“Hai, Sensei.” Jaime breathed a sigh of relief.
Once partner work was over, Jaime was glad to settle into the drudgery of kata practice. The prescribed moves were a welcome change to the unpredictability of working with someone else. He actually didn’t mind the repetition. He didn’t have to worry about what anyone else thought. He either made the right move or the wrong move. There was no chance of offending anyone.
Still, he felt the eyes of Sensei Melissa and Sempai Tyler, her assistant instructor, on him more than the others. They were always watching the students. No doubt evaluating their short-comings. And Jaime knew he had plenty. In the dojo, that didn’t matter. He could spend his whole life working on being a better karate-ka without feeling like he was wasting his time.
* * * *
“What do you think, Tyler, wheat or chaff?” Sensei Melissa asked as her keen green eyes scanned the students. They watched while Randy led the class in a one-step sparring drill.
Tyler, a second-degree black belt and assistant instructor, was familiar with this conversation. He didn’t have to ask who Sensei was talking about. Instead, his eyes focused on the pair at the far end of the dojo. Sarah—a brown belt, one test away from her black belt—corrected the stance of the dojo’s newest student, Jaime. Tyler watched and tried to figure out how best to answer Sensei’s question.
In many respects, Jaime was like any other fumbling white belt. He struggled to learn in a few classes what would take a lifetime to master. Even though he looked like the last person who would want to join a martial arts school, he had so many qualities most new students lacked. His long brown bangs streaked with blonde highlights obscured his face every time he bowed, which was often. It wasn’t only his looks or extreme politeness that made Jaime standout. In his first three months at the dojo, he had attracted a lot of attention and not all of it positive.
“He hasn’t missed a class since he started.” Tyler picked his words carefully.
So few students who put on a white belt stuck around for more than a few weeks. Sensei Melissa had taught Tyler to parcel out knowledge in small increments. The students who stayed the longest learned the most. It took years of training just to get halfway decent at karate, and the hardest challenges always came from within. Most students were more eager to face an opponent in sparring than face their personal demons.
“His etiquette and protocol are impeccable.” Even as Tyler complimented Jaime, the white belt stumbled over his own feet.
Sensei Melissa nodded. “Five years in a traditional judo dojo will do that.”
That explained it. Etiquette and protocol were harder to teach than any kick or block, especially to the students who dreamed of fighting in the octagon. Jaime knew when to bow and even how deep—a rare skill among even the brown belt ranks. His Japanese terminology was better than most of the students who outranked him. All these qualities and his perseverance should have made Jaime the ideal student.
Tyler let the unspoken but hang in the air. He had seen Jaime cringe when Sensei Melissa called to switch partners. He had first noticed the problem two weeks ago. Since then, he’d been trying to figure out how to handle the situation without singling out Jaime and making things worse.
“He has trouble working with some of the students,” Tyler said finally as they watched the students working on their katas.
Sensei Melissa watched Jaime closely with a neutral expression that didn’t betray the concern Tyler knew she had for each one of her students. “Until he respects himself, he won’t be able to earn the respect of others.”
By the end of class, Tyler knew he had to help Jaime stand up for himself. It was the best way for Jaime to find his place in the dojo. His eagerness in class and attention to detail reflected his love of martial arts. But when it came to working with the guys in class, Jaime looked like he wanted to fall through the floor. That meek attitude only encouraged the other guys to be rough with him. Tyler was positive if Jaime could be helped out of his shell, Tyler would find a great martial artist.
Until Jaime faced the fears holding him back, he would never be able to progress in his training—and, worse, he could be a danger to himself or anyone he worked with. A halfhearted technique could be more dangerous than one given with full intent, especially when sparring. A grin spread across Tyler’s lips. Sparring was the answer. It was the quickest way to force Jaime to face his fears and start to build his confidence.
“Someone’s feeling froggy.” Randy walked up to Tyler, no doubt seeing the grin on his face. They’d trained too long together not to know when the other was itching for a match. “Should I get my sparring gear?”
It was a tempting offer. They had sparred every class leading up to Randy’s black belt grading. Both Tyler and Randy regularly left the dojo with cuts, bruises, and shit-eating smiles.
“Weren’t you supposed to go to the law school interview mixer with Sarah?”
An impatient Sarah stood by the door, trying to look fascinated by the dojo calendar.
“Yeah, she’s really excited about getting to the final round of interviews. Maybe I can get five minutes.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Tyler said. He wasn’t about to risk putting his best friend in the doghouse. “Besides, I was thinking of getting the new guy out on the mats.”
“That’s a great idea,” Randy said with an approving nod. “Being the new white belt is never easy.”
“It’s harder for some than others,” Tyler agreed. He remembered how often he thought about quitting before he found his stride.
“I wasn’t that bad, was I?” Randy said and wiggled his eyebrows.
“You still are.” Tyler delivered a quick shot to the arm that Randy deflected. The two exchanged a couple of punch and block combos before calling a truce.
“He isn’t completely without skill.” Randy motioned toward Jaime.
Tyler watched Jaime practicing his basic techniques in the mirrors. Each time he made a mistake he shook his head and started over. Even the tiniest of flaws a white belt would be expected to make caught his eye.
“I remember you having two left feet and nearly knocking yourself out with a high block.” Tyler chuckled as he mentally compared Jaime and the white belt Randy had been years ago.
“Oh, and I suppose you were just poured into your uniform, Sempai.”
Tyler shook his head. “No, I thought I was going to be the next Chuck Norris defending the innocent and powerless with my amazing karate moves.”
Sarah started pulling out books in the dojo’s library.
“I’d better get changed before she starts cleaning the windows,” Randy pointed over at Sarah. She seemed to be trying not to look like she was impatiently waiting for him as she rearranged the books for the third time.
“Subtle.”
“It’s one way to look like she isn’t two steps away from dragging me off the floor regardless of rank.”
No matter how much Randy joked about Sarah, he still looked like he was staring at the moon whenever he watched her. Their honeymoon stage didn’t end even after the first year of marriage. It was something Tyler envied. “Doesn’t Jenny practice passive aggressive cleaning?”
“Jenny doesn’t clean—passively or aggressively.”
Randy just shook his head. He was a good enough friend not to ever say too much about Tyler’s girlfriends. Considering none of them had stuck around for more than a year, Tyler didn’t hold it against him.
“See you on Wednesday.” Randy bowed. “Sayonara, Sempai.”
“Sayonara.”
Soon the dojo emptied as the remaining students changed and headed for home. Jaime continued to practice, seemingly oblivious to the departing students. It wasn’t long before they were the last ones left.
“Jaime, get your gear,” Tyler said as Randy and Sarah left the dojo.
“Excuse me, Sempai?” Jaime’s wide eyes were partially hidden behind his long bangs.
“We’re going to spar.”
“Hai, Sempai.” Jaime stumbled over the words.
“Don’t worry.” Tyler smiled, trying to be reassuring. “I’ll go easy on you.”
“Hai, Sempai.” Jaime didn’t seem convinced, but he got his gear on nonetheless.
* * * *
Jaime hadn’t sparred much since he’d joined the dojo. It used to be his favorite part of class, but he was so out of practice he wasn’t sure jumping right in was a good idea. Besides, Sempai Tyler was a real ball-buster. Nothing was ever good enough for him. No technique sharp enough. No kiai loud enough. No punch hard enough. Jaime could always feel the man’s disapproving gaze on him whenever they worked together. The only consolation was Sempai Tyler held himself to the same high standard. The guy was good, and that only came with years of dedication.
“I haven’t sparred in a long time,” Jaime explained as he pulled on his sparring gloves and warily advanced toward Sempai Tyler, who waited for him at the center of the dojo.
For the first time, Jaime realized how empty the room was. He and Sempai Tyler were the last ones left. An uneasiness fluttered in the pit of Jaime’s stomach. It was always dangerous to be alone with someone he barely knew. Usually Jaime controlled those situations. Now he would have to see how Sempai Tyler behaved when no one was looking.
“We’d better get started then.” Sempai Tyler offered his hand. His grip wrapped firmly around Jaime’s. Even if Sempai Tyler was intimidating, there was no trace of maliciousness about him, unlike with Steve or the other testosterone junkies.
When they squared off in fighting stances, Jaime wasn’t sure what to expect. His body hummed with so much nervous energy he leaped halfway across the room to avoid the first obvious back-fist Sempai Tyler threw. Jaime stayed glued in place and waited for Sempai Tyler to take advantage of the situation. Instead, Sempai Tyler just frowned and signaled for Jaime to return to the center of the room. Jaime’s eyes never left Sempai Tyler.
The next time Sempai Tyler attacked, he matched Jaime’s retreat until Jaime slammed into the wall between the weapons racks. Jaime raised his arms to shield his head and tucked his elbows to cover his ribs. Even if he hadn’t sparred in a long time, it didn’t mean he hadn’t found himself on the wrong end of some homophobe’s fists or boots. The best thing to do was to protect and wait them out. Hitting back only made things worse.
“You can only run for so long.” Sempai Tyler tapped on the wall beside Jaime’s head. “Eventually, you are going to have to stand and fight.”
An angry heat suffused Jaime’s cheeks. Sparring in the dojo was one thing. Getting the crap beaten out of you in a back alley was another matter altogether. Jaime had to fight all his life just to be who he was.
“Hai, Sempai.” Jaime forced the words out.
Sempai Tyler gave him a quizzical look as he backed off to the center of the room and waited for Jaime to follow.
“Have you ever gotten into a real fight?” Sempai Tyler asked.
“I’ve had to defend myself, if that’s what you are asking.” Jaime’s voice strained against the memories of black eyes and bruised ribs. Sempai Tyler looked surprised, but Jaime wasn’t going to sugarcoat the reality of his life.
“Then do it now.” Sempai Tyler was determined to antagonize him. Jaime couldn’t figure out how he’d ended up on his shit list. “When you don’t give it your all, you cheat yourself and the person working with you.”
The comment struck Jaime as hard as any punch. This wasn’t a fight for Sempai Tyler. It was a sparring match. There was nothing personal about it, the guy just wanted to practice. Jaime still couldn’t detect any animosity in Sempai Tyler. The man had had more than one opportunity to press his advantage over Jaime and inflict pain, but he hadn’t. It had been a long time since anyone had treated him like just a man and not a gay man.
“You aren’t afraid that I’m going to hit on you or touch you inappropriately?” Jaime wasn’t sure whether to trust his instincts or the friendly vibe Sempai Tyler gave off.
At first, Sempai Tyler didn’t respond. How he answered would show his true colors.
“Are you planning to?” Sempai Tyler asked. Then he smiled.
Jaime couldn’t hold back a chuckle from bubbling out of nowhere. The tension drained from his shoulders, and a smile tugged at the corners of his lips.
“No, Sempai.”
“Good.” Sempai Tyler struck his gloved hands together in anticipation of the next exchange. “Then it’s settled, no more holding back. Let’s spar.”
“I’m not really good at karate yet.” Jaime hesitated. If he was pressed to defend himself, there was no telling what techniques he’d resort to. “I might slip into some judo moves.”
Sempai Tyler shrugged. “All the better for me. My ground work doesn’t get much practice.”
Jaime nodded and raised his hands as he resumed his fighting stance. Finding some confidence, Jaime led with a back-fist and reverse-punch combo. It was one of the first moves he’d ever learned. His body responded with a fluidity he’d forgotten. Even though Sempai Tyler was slow to respond, he blocked the attack before it had a chance of landing. Jaime didn’t even see Sempai’s fist until it struck his temple. He stumbled backward, shaking his head to clear it. The shot wasn’t hard enough to cause any damage, but it wasn’t a love tap either.
If Sempai Tyler thought a little pain was going to discourage Jaime, he was wrong. Determination fortified Jaime’s resolve.
The next time Jaime attacked, he moved diagonally, leaving his ribs open. Sempai Tyler took the bait and launched his attack. Instead of taking the incoming blow, Jaime slipped just out of range and grabbed Sempai Tyler’s wrist. The distance between them evaporated. With a slight tug, Jaime sent Sempai Tyler tumbling forward over his hip. In a flurry of movement, Sempai Tyler hit the ground but didn’t stop there. Jaime flipped him around until Sempai Tyler’s face was pressed against the mats.
With one arm behind Sempai Tyler’s back and his knee pinned between Jaime’s legs, Sempai Tyler was trapped. Considering how long it had been since Jaime had practiced judo, he was surprised at how securely he’d pinned Sempai Tyler. If Sempai Tyler tried to force his way out, he would dislocate his shoulder or knee, or both.
Suddenly Sempai Tyler let out a sharp grunt. He was pissed, and it was Jaime’s fault. He should never have pinned a higher rank. Guys hated being underneath Jaime, unless it was in the bedroom. Jaime quickly released Sempai Tyler. He scurried to his feet, palms raised to let Sempai Tyler know he wasn’t trying anything funny.
“I’m sorry, Sempai,” Jaime muttered and continued to back up. The last thing he wanted to do was to piss off a higher rank, especially when Sempai Tyler had been kind of nice to him.
“Where are you going?” Sempai Tyler hissed. “I didn’t tap out.”
Jaime froze. It hadn’t occurred to him to wait for a tap out. He was sure he’d upset Sempai Tyler and didn’t want to be on the receiving end of the man’s anger and insecurity. But Jaime saw neither in Sempai Tyler’s eyes, only disappointment at being robbed of a chance to test his ability.
“I don’t want you to cut me any slack just because I’m a black belt.” Sempai Tyler rose to his feet. “You get me on the ground again, and you had better keep me there until I tap out. Otherwise, the match isn’t over.”
“Hai, Sempai.” Jaime was relieved. He was having too much fun sparring with Sempai Tyler.
The next time Jaime had the opportunity to take Sempai Tyler to the mats, he didn’t hesitate or take it easy. The more Sempai Tyler struggled, the tighter Jaime’s hold became until Sempai Tyler had no choice but to give up. There was nothing more rewarding than pinning a stronger opponent and forcing him to admit surrender. Much to Jaime’s surprise, Sempai Tyler seemed to enjoy it as much as Jaime did. Each time Jaime pinned him, Sempai Tyler waited longer and longer before he tapped out.
“Tap out already, Sempai.” Jaime’s breath was hot against Sempai Tyler’s ear. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Not yet.”
* * * *
The pain spread through Tyler’s arm and down his side until he could feel the muscles slacken in spite of his determination to fight. The pain was both a warning and a reward. Nothing thrilled him more than finding out he could take a little more punishment before his body forced him to concede defeat. Only in the dojo was he safe to explore the limits of his body, mind, and spirit. All that punishment came with a rush of endorphins and a better knowledge of who he was and what he was capable of. That knowledge was priceless.
Surrender was inevitable and warranted, given his inferior position. After their little chat, he hoped Jaime wouldn’t simply let him out of the hold. When Jaime didn’t even loosen his grip, Tyler smiled in spite of the pain. Now it was a matter of strength of will. To his astonishment, Jaime’s strength was much more subtle than appearances would have suggested. Finally, the dull thud of Tyler’s free hand hitting the mat signaled to Jaime to release his hold.
With a heavy sigh, Jaime released Tyler but stayed close. Jaime’s watchful eyes remained fixed on Tyler as he sat up and rubbed his arm. Tyler was amused to see Jaime’s concern.
“That was good.” Tyler grinned. “You’ve got to show me how to do that move.”
Between the worry and relief in Jaime’s eyes, Tyler was pleased to see a good measure of triumph. If it were he, Tyler knew he’d be damned proud of pinning a higher rank. The more he worked with Jaime, the more he found they shared a similar spirit when it came to the tenacity required in the martial arts.
“You’re a masochist, Sempai.” Jaime extended his hand to help Tyler up.
Grateful for the assistance, Tyler took Jaime’s hand with the one he could still feel. The sensation was only beginning to return to his other arm.
“Just a little.” The grin on Tyler’s lips widened. “Again?”
“Hai, Sempai.” Jaime beamed.
After nearly half an hour of sparring, Tyler was convinced Jaime was a keeper. Once he got past worrying about his partner, Jaime’s love of training took over. Gone was the wall of insecurity Jaime hid behind. Instead, Jaime was single-minded about the task at hand—which was whupping Tyler’s ass. When it came to grappling, Jaime had Tyler beat hands down, and he knew it. Tyler had to respect Jaime for enjoying a good pin as much as he did.
“You really do like making me eat mat, don’t you?” Tyler asked as they went to the changing room to get out of their sweat-soaked uniforms.
“I love anything that’s a challenge,” Jaime replied and stopped outside of the changing room. “I’ll just grab my bag and go. It’s getting late.”
That familiar wall of nervous energy enveloped Jaime again. The confident martial artist who had spent thirty minutes toying with Tyler and wrapping him into a pretzel was replaced with a shy, hesitant boy. Jaime bolted into the changing room ahead of Tyler but only stayed long enough to grab his bag and leave. Driving anywhere in a sweaty gi, no matter how close, was not something anyone would enjoy. Jaime kept his eyes on the ground as he bowed to Tyler.
“Sayonara, Sempai.”
He might not have known Jaime for long, but Tyler was determined to figure out why the man was so nervous around guys. For someone who obviously loved training as much as he did, Jaime flip-flopped between cautious defensiveness to downright passivity, depending on who he was working with. This was not the Jaime he’d seen on the dojo floor five minutes earlier when Jaime had him in a choke hold so secure he would have lost consciousness if he hadn’t tapped out. All Jaime’s confidence and self-assurance were gone.
Jaime didn’t even look up as he walked past Tyler.
“Sensei Melissa said you trained in high school. Why did you stop?”
Jaime turned and met his gaze with a pained expression.
“I made a mistake.” Jaime shrugged then shook his head. “I won’t make it again. Sayonara, Sempai. Thanks for the sparring match.”
“Sayonara, Jaime.”
Whatever had caused Jaime to abandon his training still ate at him and kept him from being the best martial artist he could be. Tyler was more determined than ever to help him out. In helping the students, Tyler inevitably learned more about himself.