I had been in the Insurance office down on Main Street to pay my auto insurance for the year. As I stepped out the front door of the building, a blurred figure came flying at me from my left. All I caught besides a foot in the chest was an impression of someone in a black costume. The kick had enough force to knock me off balance and into the light pole on the corner; otherwise I would have ended up in the busy street.
I caught my balance on the pole and looked up the street in time to see someone in black go around the corner at the end of the block. I took off in pursuit. Why anyone would want to attack me, was a question that wandered around in my brain as I ran. No one and nothing had come to mind as I turned the corner and headed up the gentle incline towards the railroad tracks that crossed this street just behind the buildings. There was no one in sight. The only sign of activity was a door closing on the first building past the tracks.
I made a wide detour away from the blind corner at the tracks and came to a halt in front of the building where the door had closed. It was a small storefront building and this space held a sign for a Thai-Chi studio. Something was familiar about it but I couldn't put my finger on it. Wait, it was at one time, over on Main and quite prosperous, I had gone there several times to work out. The Master had even offered to spar with me if I wished. I had taken him up on it one time and found him to be a very competent man. That was when I first came to this area and before I got things set up in my own backyard.
I chuckled as I thought of something, maybe this was an elaborate advertising scheme to get old customers back. More likely a rebellious student. I took a deep breath, walked up to the door, and opened it. There were no lights on in the place; the only light coming through the rice paper covered front windows. There was a glass fronted office to the right and a mat covered practice floor to the left. There was no one here that I could see.
Slipping off my shoes, using just my feet, I moved slowly forward. Past the office was a pair of restrooms and what I figured was the store room. A cross wall had been installed across the width of the room, with a raised floor. The wall was rice paper and bamboo and probably had living quarters behind it. Whether the walls were fixed or sliding, I had no way of telling. I remained on my guard, why I wasn't sure but I did.
Not wanting to blindly enter someone's living space, especially with it dark and not knowing if my attacker was really here or not, I moved back toward the front windows and out to the end of the mat area. This gave me the advantage of space and distance but the disadvantage of being silhouetted against the windows.
I took a square stance facing the center of the room, just off the mat edge, grasped my left wrist with my right hand, and relaxed to wait. I didn't have long to wait. The center panel of the wall slowly slid back to reveal a dark square opening.
There was a sudden, loud yell and the figure in black appeared at a dead run in the opening. At the edge of the platform, it took a rolling dive and ended up in the center of the mat, in a perfect fighting stance. Left foot slightly forward of the right, slightly crouched, right hand balled at hip level, elbow up and out. The left fist was just below chest height, the left elbow low and away from the body.
Whoever it was, they knew their art and they weren't the master of this place. At least not the one who had been here before. This person was far too short and slight. A black mask hid their head completely.
I smiled and gave a slight bow. "Good morning." I said softly and then I asked, "Why did you attack me on the street?" There was no answer and after a time, I shrugged and turned toward the door.
As I reached my shoes, a harsh muffled voice said loudly, "Wait, you can not leave without meeting my challenge."
"Oh and why is that? I don't know you and since I don't know you, I have no reason to answer your challenge. Now if you want to spar, then give me a call sometimes, and we'll set up a date and time." I said as I slipped one shoe on.
"Then you are not the one and can not be my teacher." The voice said.
"You are lucky that I'm not your teacher. The first thing I'd do is turn you across my knee and spank you for what you pulled out there on the street. That is no way to get a teacher; it's a way to get hurt or to hurt someone." I said as I slipped on the other shoe. I turned toward the figure in black and bowed slightly, "Good day to you."
As I turned to the door the figure yelled, "Wait." As I continued to open the door, it added in a softer voice, "Please. You are my last hope."
I turned back and let the door close. "I do not take students for my discipline and you should know that, if you know who I am."
"No, I do not know you. Your name was on a list my father kept. I found it after his death. I consulted Wounded Bear, at the reservation and he just frowned when I mentioned your name and would say nothing more." The muffled voice said slowly and softly.
I slipped my shoes back off and moved back to the side of the mat. "Why don't you train with Wounded Bear, he is a good Master and well disciplined." I asked.
There was silence for a moment, and then the figure said, "He won't take me as a student. He and my father had a few problems over the years, what I do not know, but enough for him to refuse me. I have checked out the others around this area that were on the list and find most of them wanting in one respect or the other. Some told me the same as you, that they do not train people, that they are out of shape and no longer follow the ways. You are the last name on the list and a total mystery."
The figure paused, slumped slightly, and went on, "There is a group that tried for years to ruin my father and to put him out of business. They may have even killed him; the accident that took his life was very suspicious to me. The police said he was drunk and ran off the road, flipping his car. He never drank in his life."
"What has this to do with me? Like I said, I've never taken a fulltime student. I've tutored a few over the years but they already knew the art. Your art, I know something about but I am no Master of it. My discipline is not for everyone and takes years to even be accepted in, much less trained in. The mental part has to come first." I said softly.
"Time is not a luxury that I have at the present. I need to do something to save this school or I'm out on my ear." The voice shot back.
Suddenly, the figure was in motion and I was blocking a flurry of punches and kicks. The last punch thrown was aimed at my face and I caught the fist six inches from my nose and held it there. My large hand completely enclosed the small fist and as I squeezed and pressed downward the figure froze and then dropped to one knee. The shot to my groin missed as I turned my hips and my backhand slap to the side of the mask, sounded like a gunshot. The fight went out of the black clad figure as it rolled sideways to lie on the mat, not moving.
I released the fist and reached down to pull off the mask. The next moment, I was flying over to land on my back. If the throw had been better executed, then I could have rolled out of it, but I think I was a lot heavier than the person in the black suit expected. Either way, I hit hard and rolled sideways, as the figurer jumped from flat on its back to standing vertical in one smooth movement.
I ended up in a sitting position and then slowly stood straight up. I took up my waiting stance and did just that, waited. The figure had slowly circled to their right and back to the center of the mat. "Your father was Vietnamese, if I remember correctly." I said softly.
"Yes, he was retired military, a full Cornel in the South Vietnamese army back in the war. The American Government pulled him and my mother out as they redrew, I was born here a year or so later." The figure replied.
"The men who were trying to ruin him, they were Vietnamese, also?" I asked.
"I do not know for sure but I think so. Father never would say." Came the reply. "Do you know of Vietnam?"
"I spent a lifetime or three there, in my younger days. I was attached to a South Korean Marine group. They are the ones who started me on my path in martial arts." I said.
"My father fought hard for the freedom of his people and all he got for his effort was exile. That was bad enough, and then the vendetta started soon after my mother died and those two together nearly killed him. I will not let them kill the last things he loved, me and this studio. I cannot allow it." The figure said.
Suddenly the figure was in motion again, only this time away from me. Executing a series of back flips that ended where the figure had first appeared, at the open panel. The figure took a step back and pulled the panel shut in front of it.
