All is quiet for the next seven days. I call Naz during that time and surprisingly he answers his phone. There’s a distinct drop in his mood. He’s not getting what he hoped for in his quest, and it’s bringing him back down.

When we get to the Cage, I’m 100 percent recovered—no more sensitivity to bright light, and my head is clear. It’s been a mild winter, and I can’t imagine a warmer day at the end of January, perfect for what I have in mind. I told Naz to dress in sweats.

I get there before he does to stretch and warm up. Five little boys are playing twenty-one. I didn’t expect it to be this warm, and I hope the court doesn’t get too crowded. They don’t pay me any attention until I start doing martial arts forms. They laugh and point for a few minutes then go back to their game.

I’m deep in a stance when Naz arrives.

“Where’s the basketball?” he asks as he comes around the corner. “Perfect weather for it.”

“Perfect weather for anything.” I take a deep breath and come out of my stance.

“You didn’t get me out here to work on martial arts, did you?”

“Of course. I might have to face Skinny again.”

“Doubt it.”

“My mother told me every day is a day to celebrate a success or learn from a failure. I failed out here the last time.”

“Is that what this is about?”

“What else? You said never allow myself to be surrounded by superior numbers, that I should’ve used the fence, put my back up against it. Is that what you did last week?”

“Well, there wasn’t a fence.” He laughs.

“You know what I mean.”

“Come on.”

We walk over by the fence. Naz stands with his back a few inches from the fence and motions for me to do the same on his right side. He looks at me and then straight ahead. He bows and steps with his left foot over his right. Then, he steps with his right followed by an open hand strike with his right hand and an elbow strike with his left. It’s exactly what he used to dismantle the Apostles last week. I know the form well.

“Naihanchi Kata,” I blurt out a little more excited than I meant to. “It’s the third form in Isshinryu Karate.”

“If you say so.”

I start doing the form with him, although I don’t remember it as well as he does. It’s amazing what he remembers and what he doesn’t. “It’s a form that teaches fighting in close quarters.”

He nods. We keep going over the form, and the boys on the court start watching again.

Naz jumps up exhilarated. The boys start clapping, and we both bow and then laugh. They go back to their game.

“How do you know what form that is?” Naz asks.

“Cause I studied Isshinryu,” I say with pride.

“With me?” Naz asks.

“Huh?” Taken by surprise, I’m not sure how to answer.

“Did we study together?” he clarifies.

“Yeah, in a past life,” I recover.

“Uh-huh.”

He’s starting to figure things out. It’s just a matter of time now. But if he thinks he can break me, he’s mistaken. I ignore his sarcasm and prevent any thoughts of our past from surfacing.

After a few moments of silence, Naz gives up on his feeble attempt at coercion, opting for philosophy instead. “Legend has it that Samson fought within a valley so narrow that the thousand Philistines he annihilated trampled on each other to get at him. Those behind pressed forward and those forward were pressed back upon the weapons behind them. It was a storm of death.”

“Samson?”

“Yeah, you know, Samson in the Bible, Samson and Delilah.”

“I know. Samson the Nazarite.” I laugh. “It’s just that you said legend like it’s not true.”

He shrugs.

We continue to do more forms and until we’re sweating. That’s when I hear the beating.