A visit to the dojo
The next morning, Parvat woke up, still feeling the dull ache in his legs from yesterday's training. But today was different. Today, he wasn't just practicing in his backyard.
He was going to train for real.
At breakfast, he sat across from his uncle, who was reading the newspaper, and his aunt, who was setting plates on the table.
"Uncle, I want to train properly. I need to join a dojo."
His uncle lowered the newspaper slightly, raising an eyebrow. "You're serious about this?"
Parvat nodded. "Yeah. I've already been practicing, but I need a real instructor."
His aunt sighed. "As long as you don't come home with a broken face, fine."
His cousin, a younger boy who barely spoke to him, mumbled, "You'll probably quit in a week."
Parvat smirked. "We'll see."
With that, he packed up and headed out.
---
The Dojo's Challenge
That evening, he arrived at the Taekwondo dojo, a modest building squeezed between two larger ones.
As he stepped inside, the sound of sharp movements filled the air.
Students were training in perfect sync. Their kicks landed with loud smacks against heavy pads, and their shouts echoed through the hall.
At the front, an older man in a black belt watched the class with a sharp gaze. He didn't even need to speak—his presence alone commanded discipline.
Parvat walked up. "I want to train here."
The instructor glanced at him before speaking. "You sure? We don't turn away anyone willing to work. But I have an annoying son. If you can tolerate him, you can stay."
Parvat raised an eyebrow. "Annoying?"
The instructor smirked. "You'll see soon enough."
Then he handed Parvat a uniform. "For now, let's see if you can even handle the basics."
---
Stretching – The First Painful Lesson
Parvat had always thought stretching was just a warm-up.
But after just five minutes, he realized it was the real test.
"Flexibility is key in Taekwondo," the instructor explained. "If you can't kick high, you're useless."
Parvat was instructed to sit on the mat and spread his legs wide.
At first, it felt fine.
Then, the instructor pushed his back forward.
A sharp pain shot through his thighs. "Argh—!"
The instructor chuckled. "Hurts, doesn't it? Get used to it."
For the next thirty minutes, Parvat went through agonizing stretches. His legs felt like they were being torn apart.
But he gritted his teeth and pushed through.
---
First Techniques – Low Block and Front Kick
Once the stretching was done, the real training began.
"First, learn how to defend yourself." The instructor demonstrated a low block, deflecting an imaginary attack to his side.
Parvat copied the movement. It seemed simple, but the instructor corrected his stance over and over again.
"Again."
"Again."
"Lower your arm."
"Now, front kick."
Parvat lifted his leg and kicked forward, but—
—he lost balance and nearly fell.
The students watching snickered.
The instructor didn't react. "Do it again."
Parvat tightened his fists. He wasn't going to let them look down on him.
He kicked again.
And again.
By the time training ended, his legs were shaking.
---
The Three Styles of Taekwondo
As Parvat wiped the sweat from his forehead, the instructor stood in front of him.
"There are three common types of Taekwondo," he said. "Sports Taekwondo, Traditional Taekwondo, and Military Taekwondo."
Parvat listened carefully.
"Sports Taekwondo focuses on speed and scoring points in tournaments."
"Traditional Taekwondo is about discipline, forms, and full-contact strikes."
"Military Taekwondo is brutal—designed for real combat, not games."
The instructor crossed his arms. "Which one do you want to learn?"
Parvat didn't hesitate. "All of them."
The instructor laughed. "Then be ready to work harder than anyone else."
Before Parvat could respond, someone called the instructor outside.
As the instructor stepped out, Parvat stretched his arms and looked around—
That's when he noticed a group of students gathered near the firing section of the dojo.
Curious, he walked over.
Standing there was a kid with red hair—about the same age as him.
And he was surrounded by students who all knew Taekwondo.
The red-haired kid turned toward Parvat and smirked.
"Hey, you're the new one, huh?"
A Kick That Shook the Dojo
Parvat wiped the sweat from his forehead, still feeling the soreness from training. He had barely gotten through the basics, and his legs were on the verge of giving out.
But before he could even rest, the red-haired kid stepped forward.
"Hey, you wanna spar with me?" he asked, his tone casual but his eyes filled with excitement.
Parvat froze.
"No," he said instantly. "I don't want to die."
The red-haired kid smirked and stepped closer.
"I want to—"
Parvat narrowed his eyes. "What? What kind of psychopathic behavior is this?"
Before he could even process what was happening, the fight began.
---
The First Strike – A Near Knockout
The red-haired kid, Tahun, moved like a blur.
Before Parvat could even raise his hands, a roundhouse kick came flying straight for his head.
SMACK!
Parvat's vision blurred. His mind blanked out for a second, and his body almost collapsed.
"Damn… one hit and I'm already dizzy?"
He instinctively ran backward.
But something was wrong.
He wasn't just running—
He was dashing back insanely fast.
His legs, reacting on their own, carried him away at a speed he didn't even know he had.
Tahun grinned. "Oh? You're fast."
And then—
He was in front of Parvat again.
Just like that.
No matter how fast Parvat moved, Tahun was already there.
"My kicks are fast enough to kill anyone," Tahun said, a sharp grin on his face. "And you can do the same. That's cool, huh?"
Parvat clenched his fists. He was getting cornered.
"I can't even see his movements. He's way too fast…"
Tahun dashed forward again, this time aiming to finish it—
---
A Kick That Shook the Dojo
And then, it happened.
Without thinking, without even knowing how—
Parvat's body moved on instinct.
His leg shot upward, a perfectly timed front kick.
It wasn't normal.
It wasn't just strong.
It was devastating.
BOOM!
His foot slammed directly into Tahun's jaw.
The impact was so powerful that it echoed through the dojo like a gunshot.
Tahun's head snapped back. His entire body lifted slightly off the ground before stumbling backward.
Silence.
Everyone stopped training.
Eyes widened. Mouths hung open.
Even the instructor, who had just returned, stood there in shock.
Parvat, still in his kicking stance, slowly lowered his leg.
His own heart was pounding.
"What… was that?"
Parvat stared at his own leg, still feeling the impact of that devastating front kick.
His mind raced.
"That… that wasn't normal. How did I even do that?"
Then, a thought struck him.
"Maybe… it's because of my ability."
It made sense. The way he dodged, moved, and reacted—none of it was something he had trained for. It felt like his body just knew what to do.
And if that was the case…
"If I fight this guy properly, I might figure out how to use my ability."
His hesitation disappeared.
He wasn't running anymore.
---
Tahun's Excitement
Tahun, the red-haired boy, wiped the blood from his lip.
Then, he grinned.
"Now that's what I'm talking about."
His body leaned forward, his stance more aggressive. His eyes burned with excitement.
"Let's do that again."
Parvat exhaled, raising his fists.
"Alright."
They were about to clash again—
But suddenly—
---
A Fight Interrupted
"Tahun, you started fighting again?"
A loud voice boomed through the dojo.
Both of them froze.
A man stepped between them.
It was the dojo instructor.
Parvat's eyes widened. "Wait… the instructor knows him?"
Tahun groaned, rolling his eyes. "Come on, Dad! He's at my level. I wanna fight him!"
"Dad?!" Parvat's mind snapped.
The dojo instructor was Tahun's father?
The instructor crossed his arms, looking disappointed. "You don't even know discipline, and you're already picking fights."
Tahun shrugged. "I just wanted to test him."
"No more fights today." The instructor's tone left no room for argument.
Parvat relaxed his stance, his mind still processing everything.
"So, the best fighter here is actually the instructor's son…?"
The fight stopped.
But something inside Parvat had awakened or not.