I know many of you are looking for the "good stuff." I'll warn you, I like to establish the characters, setting, and premise for what happens. Just stick with me! I'll make it worth your while.
If you haven't read "A Karate Love Story, Ch. 01" yet, please do -- the character development is important.
I crave and appreciate your feedback! Please vote and leave comments. -- ynona
A Karate Love Story
Ch. 02 "The Tournament"
A confusing, exhilarating din of voices and shouts surrounded me, not assaulting my ears but rather pressing against my entire body, holding me up as if I could float into the arena rather than descend the wide ramp by foot. Sensei Tom reached back and grabbed my hand as we threaded our way through hundreds of closely-packed, slow-moving bodies. I could feel Lisa's hand on my upper arm and hoped Jack was keeping up at the rear, as the four of us tried to stay together in the crush.
My heart felt like it was going to pound its way out through my stomach in its excitement. The floor below swarmed in a riot of color as people dressed in street clothes and a wide variety of white and colored
gis
found their places for the morning's first events, set up their gear, and began warming up with stretches and
kata
. I could see why Sensei was reluctant to bring younger students -- I found myself yearning to join those gathered around the enormous mats. Not from a desire to show off, I told myself, but as a personal challenge. A quieter, more honest voice inside told me I desired to sparkle and to amaze those around me.
"Tom!" shouted a hearty, disembodied voice somewhere to the right. Sensei's hand pulled roughly out of mine, and he strode forward to bear-hug a tall, pot-bellied man who materialized from the crowd.
Sensei was grinning so widely I thought his ears would start hurting. He slapped the other man hard on the back and said, "Marcus! I haven't seen you in, what -- eight years? Nine?"
"Ten, but who's counting?" said the other man with a smirk. "I thought you didn't come to these things! Change your mind?"
Sensei glanced at us slyly, then said, "Nah, I just have some nice, incorruptible students who'd like to watch, that's all."
Marcus waggled his bushy eyebrows at us. "Incorruptible, eh? We'll just see about that! Come on, Tom, I've got some front-row seats for you and your choir of angels . . ."
A path seemed to open magically before the big man, and we made our way to the floor with little trouble. Squeezing between piles of sparring gear and gym bags, we followed him to a section of seats that faced the center mat. A group of young men and women in
gis
with matching insignia turned and looked at us appraisingly. As introductions were made all around, I discovered that Marcus was sensei at another dojo, and these were his students -- the best of them, at any rate. It was funny to think of this fleshy man as being not just a black belt, but a sensei, but I knew that appearances could be deceiving.
By happy coincidence, I ended up sitting by Jack. I couldn't help examining him furtively under the guise of looking around the arena. It was strange not to see him in a
gi
. The white uniform and black belt had always conferred a mystical aura of authority and distance on him, and seeing him in regular clothes seemed to make him more human than angel, and tantalizingly more accessible. He looked deliciously fresh-from-the-shower in his dark jeans and crisp, blue polo shirt that complemented his blue eyes. It was hard not to stare at his collar where it brushed against his tanned neck, and I couldn't help breathing slowly and deeply of his aftershave.
He turned to me with a pleasant smile and said, "So, this is your first time at tournament, isn't it, Audra?" As always, hearing him speak my name sent a thrill down my spine.
"Yes," I replied. "It looks confusing, with all these different things going on at once. It reminds me of my cousin's gymnastics meets."
"They are very similar," he said. "Would you like me to explain the rules and point systems?"
"Please!"
We spent the rest of the morning discussing the various events, critiquing competitors, and applauding everyone enthusiastically. We seemed to be in our own little bubble, surrounded by all these people and the noise, but set apart. This was the first time I had ever had a sustained conversation with him -- his correcting my movements in training didn't count -- and I found myself falling for him more every minute. We had to lean our heads close together in order to hear each other over the noise, and sometimes it was loud enough that we had to practically shout in each other's ears to be heard. Being so close to him, with our arms brushing frequently, felt comfortable and
right
. We weren't
sempai
and
kohai
-- senior and junior, black belt and blue -- we were a man and a woman enjoying each other's company and opinions.
A loud, clanging bell that signaled the two-hour lunch break took me by surprise. I couldn't believe we had been there four hours already! I looked around and saw Sensei down the row with Marcus and Lisa at his shoulder, signaling for us to follow. Since the crowd threatened to cut us all off, Jack grabbed my hand and began to sidestep his way toward Sensei.
I was a little surprised when we emerged from the arena and turned not toward the parking lot, but toward a nearby intersection. It made sense that we would walk to a nearby restaurant, though: the parking lot was choked with cars trying to get out. It probably would have eaten up thirty minutes going that way.
To my disappointment, Jack let go of my hand when the crowd thinned out, but he remained at my side and continued our conversation about the morning's events. Lisa walked ahead of us with two other women from Marcus' dojo, and Sensei and Marcus strolled at the front, obviously recounting old times together.
The arena itself was on the edge of downtown proper, so within a block or two, we were walking between skyscrapers twenty to fifty stories high. Even now, with the sun just past high noon, we were nicely shaded. This part of town had lots of trees and wrought-iron accents -- old-fashioned street lamps, balcony bars, and so forth -- that gave it a comfortable, old-world charm, despite the acres of glass and steel towering above us.
We turned into an alley that had been transformed into a little paradise of cobblestones and greenery that sprang up on both sides and hung from a lattice that curved overhead. Hidden speakers played cheery big-band jazz, and vari-colored lanterns hung here and there among the vines. I could see that this alley housed several restaurants -- Italian, Greek, and a couple others I couldn't quite see -- and at least one shop that I definitely wanted a closer look at later.
Sensei and Marcus led us to the Italian restaurant, and we filed in the door. This was obviously a popular place for lunch. Men and women, mostly wearing business suits, crowded the tables and booths, some chatting animatedly, some with papers and laptops, apparently on a working lunch. Marcus stopped, turned back, and gathered us all together.
"Tell ya what -- it's awful crowded, how about you all go out and get us some nice seats outside? I'll order a couple of pizzas and some drinks and meet you out there," he offered.
"That's nice of you," said Sensei with a smile. "I'll be sure to save you
two
seats!"
