Mojo Dojo

Marcus had cleared the first hurdle—his dad was on board. Now came the tricky part: actually finding a dojo that fit his needs. He needed a place that took training seriously, but it also had to be low-key enough that he wouldn't accidentally expose himself. The last thing he needed was someone connecting the dots between his casual love for martial arts and the skill level he actually had.

So, after school, Marcus did what any rational teenager would do.

He Googled it.

Sitting in his room, he scrolled through nearby dojos, chewing on a piece of gum while he skimmed through reviews.

"Great place for beginners!"

Nope.

"Excellent for families and children!"

Hard pass.

"A no-nonsense, traditional dojo that emphasizes real combat efficiency."

…Now that sounded promising.

The place was called Iron Fist Dojo, run by a guy named Master Kenji Sato. From the reviews, it seemed intense—strict training, real sparring, and a strong focus on discipline. Exactly what Marcus was looking for.

He glanced at the clock. It was still early. If he left now, he could check it out before dinner.

Making sure no one was around, he grabbed his bag and slipped out the door.

---

Iron Fist Dojo

The dojo was tucked between a laundromat and an old bookstore, the kind of place most people would walk past without a second glance. Marcus liked that. Less attention.

He stepped inside and was immediately hit by the scent of sweat, wood, and faint traces of incense. The floor was lined with mats, and a group of students—ranging from kids to adults—were practicing under the watchful eye of an older man.

Marcus immediately knew who he was.

Master Kenji Sato.

The man exuded experience. He wasn't overly muscular, but his posture, the way he moved—it all screamed control.

Kenji turned his gaze toward Marcus, eyes sharp. "New student?"

Marcus nodded. "Thinking about it."

Kenji studied him for a moment before gesturing for him to step forward. "Why do you want to learn martial arts?"

Marcus met his gaze. "Because I love it."

Kenji nodded, as if approving of the answer. "Many people love martial arts. Few are willing to commit to it."

Marcus smirked. "Guess I'll have to prove I'm not like most people."

Kenji raised an eyebrow. "We'll see."

He gestured toward the mat. "Take off your shoes. Show me your stance."

Marcus kicked off his sneakers and stepped onto the mat, settling into a balanced stance. He kept it basic—nothing that would raise suspicion.

Kenji watched for a moment before nodding. "Not bad. You've had some training."

Marcus shrugged. "A little."

Kenji didn't push the subject. Instead, he gestured toward one of the students. "Spar with him. Nothing too serious. I want to see how you move."

Marcus grinned, popping his gum. "Sounds fun."

---

The First Test

His opponent was a teenager, probably sixteen or seventeen, wearing a white gi and a black belt. He looked confident—probably one of the dojo's best students.

The match began.

The black belt wasted no time, stepping in with a textbook front kick aimed at Marcus's midsection. Marcus shifted to the side, letting the kick pass harmlessly before tapping his opponent's foot with his own, forcing him to quickly recover his balance.

The guy didn't hesitate. He followed up with a quick one-two punch combination, sharp and precise. Marcus read the movement instantly, his body reacting before his mind even registered it. He slipped the first punch by tilting his head, then lightly parried the second one with the back of his hand.

The black belt frowned. Clearly, he wasn't used to someone avoiding his attacks so effortlessly.

Marcus kept his stance loose, hands slightly raised but not giving away any real openings. He wanted to see how far this guy would push.

The student suddenly shifted gears, launching into a spinning back kick. It was fast, well-practiced. The kind of move that could catch someone off guard.

Marcus, however, had already seen enough.

As the kick came toward him, he ducked under it at the last second, pivoted smoothly, and struck out with a sweeping leg kick. His opponent's footing was compromised mid-spin, and the moment Marcus's leg connected, he lost balance entirely.

The black belt crashed onto the mat with a solid thud.

Silence filled the dojo.

Kenji's expression remained unreadable, but Marcus caught the slight twitch of amusement at the corner of his mouth.

The other students looked between them, whispering.

Marcus stepped back, offering a hand to his opponent, who took it with a nod, looking more surprised than angry.

Kenji finally spoke. "You have talent."

Marcus grinned. "I try."

Kenji crossed his arms. "Training here won't be easy. Are you willing to work for it?"

Marcus nodded. "That's why I'm here."

Kenji studied him for another moment before nodding. "Then welcome to Iron Fist Dojo."