Hard Tail(13)

As the pins-and-needles numbness in my ear settled into a dull pain, I backed off a bit, hopping lightly on the balls of my feet. "How about we take it a bit easier?" I suggested without taking my eyes off him for a minute. His hair was thinning noticeably on top, probably a result of all that raging testosterone. He looked a bit like a young Bruce Willis, if Bruce had spent his formative years chomping on steroids and then got really angry about something.

"Not going to learn anything that way, are we?" Bruce countered and lunged in with a jab punch to the solar plexus with his left fist that would have taken out several internal organs if I hadn't managed to block it. I'd swear I felt the bones in my arm vibrate from the impact-I'd have a bruise there tomorrow. I just hoped he wouldn't go for the face, as two members of staff with black eyes wouldn't do the reputation of Jay's bike shop any good at all.

I decided the best form of defence was attack, and I feinted with my left arm before lunging in with a roundhouse kick. It landed just above Bruce's kidney, the impact solid and satisfying. Even though it was barely half power, he was not a happy bunny. His chiselled features twisted in a snarl, and he drove at me like a white Ford Transit van with a red-and-brown stripe round the middle.

I danced to one side, letting all that power and aggression fly uselessly past me; then, when he turned, too slow, I was ready for the roundhouse kick. It was full power and then some, and it was aimed at a point about six inches the other side of my kidney. Message: I can do anything you can, and I can do it better.

I sidestepped again and blocked. Even though I only caught the edge of the kick on my forearm, it was a numbing blow-bruise number two on my beleaguered left arm. At the unwelcome return of sensation, I tried not to show how much it had hurt-Bruce was like a pit bull who could smell weakness and wouldn't hesitate to take advantage.

The trouble was, he already had an advantage here. Because, although he was only a brown belt, his technique was at least as good as mine, and he had all the weight and power behind it. And at the end of the day, I didn't want to hurt him-I was the higher belt; I had a responsibility here. Whereas he'd obviously like nothing better than to see me carted off on a stretcher. At which point he'd swear blind he'd thought I could handle it, me being a black belt and all. 

Okay. Maybe Mum had a bit of a point about it not being real fighting. But it wasn't like I couldn't; I just didn't want to. Get a grip, I told myself. Of course you can handle him. So what if my black belt was so new it still had folds in it from where it had been in the packet? I felt my resolve strengthen at the sight of the killing rage in his narrowed eyes as we circled each other. This guy needed to be taught a lesson.

Time seemed to slow-and when the next attack came, I was ready for it. I didn't block-just took myself out of his path and let him blunder on by. When he turned, his face had reddened. I hopped lightly on my toes and waited for him to make the next move. It seemed his Neanderthal brain managed to grasp my subtle message that I was ready for anything he could throw at me, as his lips curled in a snarl. Anger made him clumsy, and I easily spotted the feint, blocked it and danced to one side as he steamrollered past.

"Come on and fight, you bastard," he ground out from between teeth so tightly clenched his dentist would probably never forgive me. I braced myself for the next onslaught-and almost jumped out of my gi when Sensei Cole's voice bellowed past my left ear.

"Mister Pritchard, change partners, please." Sensei moved into my field of view, bouncing on the balls of his feet like the Duracell bunny with a fresh battery, despite this being his third class of the evening. "Right, Mr. Knight, let's see what you can do." Sensei Cole was the old-fashioned type-everyone in the class, down to the tiniest tots, was Mr. or Ms. Somebody.

Bruce shot me a murderous look and slunk off with the rangy Asian guy I'd already pegged as Sensei's second in command-I didn't know what grade black belt he was, but I reckoned he had to be third Dan at least. He'd probably survive a spar with Bruce, anyway. We shifted over to a vacant space, and Sensei started putting me through my paces.

Sparring with Sensei Cole was a completely different ball game. For a big guy, he was incredibly light on his feet-but it was his control that impressed me the most. He started off slow with me, then upped the speed by precise increments, testing my reactions. Fighting with a guy like that is an incredible buzz. I knew I could trust him not to go too far-and equally, to get himself out of trouble if I misjudged things.

We were both grinning like maniacs by the time the session ended. Sensei patted me on the back. "Very good, Mr. Knight. Very good indeed. Will we be seeing you again?"