The beginners class ended, and the advanced students stayed to spar. Mamoru seemed invulnerable. Playing with him in striking was just asking for injuries. It seemed trying to wrestle him down made the most sense. The issue was, he was phenomenal at grappling too. Probably better than me with weapons too, but that's not this class. There was one thing I noticed in particular, however. When he started going against some students who could keep up with him in wrestling, he seemed to hate being on his back. It didn't seem like it was just a preference either. It looked like it hurt his pride. Those were the only times I'd see his otherwise stoic face give in to a hint of anger. But no one had been meaningfully able to throw him. Maybe they could reverse a position, but that was after Mamoru had already thrown them and they were on the ground. And if they did reverse the position, Mamoru immediately found a way to get off his back. It seemed he would rather be on his arms and knees like a turtle than be on his back. I looked at my notes and thought about the plan I'd accumulated so far. Palm strikes and kicks using the heel and ball of the foot only. Going to try to use that weird kick I showed Cecily on him. Use that weird kick to hook his leg for a sweep and who knows what after that. …Damn. Cecily was right. That's not even a real plan. No one had swept Mamoru the whole class. And even if I somehow succeeded, my reward was being on the ground with a monster. He'd just stand back up anyway, and I don't think I could stop him. Or he'd just get on top and smash me like last time. Still, it was a start. The advanced students were slowly trickling out of the building. Some lingered to talk with their friends. I should probably leave too. As I put my notes back in my bag and stood up, I couldn't help but look around at all of the training dummies. I couldn't hit them yet. Even though this was kind of ridiculous. My shin was just a little sore, but I clearly wasn't injured. I could probably get away with hitting one a couple times. I felt like someone had just emptied a bucket of water over my head. Except instead of water, it was guilt. I sighed. I'd probably just talk to Lynne and tell her I'd most likely be good to take class tomorrow. And then I wouldn't be breaking a promise. And then I'd go take on Mamoru again and win! I pictured Mamoru in front of me. Alright, palm strike to the head and boom, hit your leg with my weird heel kick. Again. Maybe throw a left hand and right hand then kick. And then throw a palm strike to the head and sweep. “What are you doing?” I was pulled out of my mind. Mamoru disappeared, and I realized I was standing in a mostly empty room, flailing my arms and legs in the air. I looked over to see one of the boys I'd sparred with a few days ago. I forgot his name, but I remembered that I got him with a trip. “Oh, um, there's this sweep I was thinking of.” The boy looked at me, perplexed. “That's a sweep?” I looked down at my leg and realized he was talking about the kick I was developing. “Well, no. It's a kick that I'm going to turn into a sweep.” “How?” “So if I kick like this, and he steps in, I can hook the outside of their leg, push them backwards, and I guess reap them.” I showed him the motion of the kick along with the trip I'd developed. “Why are you kicking like that?” “'Cause hitting Mamoru sucks.” “Oh, this is about Mamoru.” He started laughing. “What? Why are you laughing?” “That would never work on him.” I was starting to get frustrated at everyone telling me my plan was stupid. Mostly because I kinda knew it was, but I didn't need them telling me that. “Didn't I sweep you, like, the first time we sparred?” “You did. I was expecting you to follow your straight punches with that well-developed body punch of yours. Everyone knows better than to attempt wrestling me, but you didn't, and you caught me off guard.” I couldn't tell if he was joking or actually being arrogant. I tripped him so easily. Why would no one try to wrestle with him? “So why would you think this sweep doesn't work?” “Because you're leaning backwards before you throw it. You'll fall over as soon as your leg hooks around his.” Not the answer I was expecting. “What do you mean?” The boy took a stance with his feet slightly wider apart and put his arms out as if he himself were a training dummy. “Show me the trip.” I stepped forward and wrapped my leg around him, then went to push him down. He simply shifted his body toward my hooking leg and gave me a push. I stumbled back, my leg abandoning the hook for balance. “Well, you knew I was going to do that. I could always follow it up with another trip or something.” “Show me.” I immediately shot my right leg around the outside of his left leg. His leg felt way firmer than a normal person's. It was like his foot had grown roots into the ground. But if this leg was solid, the other leg must be light. I pulled his upper body toward his strong leg. His entire body felt like a tree trunk. My right leg abandoned the trip attempt, unraveled, and went to sweep out his lighter right leg. Except his right leg felt like a tree trunk too. It didn't budge at all. I caught a glimpse of his face. He had such an annoyingly cocky grin. If both of his legs were rooted, then I can still attack his upper body. I turned so both of us were facing the same direction. I was going to attempt to throw him with something similar to what Mamoru had used on the boy with the green jacket. But as I tried to load him onto my hips, the boy squatted underneath me, wrapped his arms around my hips with the inside position they'd been working on in the beginners class, and lifted me into the air. He turned me so I fell toward my back but caught me before I actually hit the ground, wearing that same cocky grin. Damn. How did I sweep him the first time? He went to let me down gently when suddenly the doors of the training hall burst open violently, like someone was trying to kick them down. The loud sound erased that cheeky expression from the boy's face and replaced it with shock. He looked back to see who had so aggressively entered the room. I peeked up over his shoulder as well. I wish I hadn't. Instead of some massive, overbearing cowboy villain I'd pictured in my head, Lynne's delicate frame was shaded by the light pouring into the room from behind her. Normally, even when she was angry or trying to be serious, there was something about her that was just cute, which took away from her severity. This was the first time I think I'd actually felt true fear. “I KNEW IT!” I froze. So did the boy holding me. It didn't help that he was holding me in a position that looked like he was about to slam me. “QASIM, PUT HIM DOWN GENTLY THIS INSTANT!” Oh yeah. His name was Qasim. Qasim hurriedly obeyed. Lynne's eyes shot toward me as she made her way over. “DOES AN OATH MEAN NOTHING TO YOU?” I tried to speak, but I was scared. “NOT EVEN A FULL DAY! YOU PROMISED ME, AND YOU BROKE IT IN LESS THAN A DAY!” My hands started waving desperately, and all I could manage were some incomprehensible grunts. “Shall I stick a needle through your eye?” She wasn't yelling as loudly anymore, but now she felt creepy and unsettling on top of being scary. “It seems this is a private matter. I'll just go ahead and excuse mys—” I grabbed Qasim and used him as a human shield, placing him between Lynne and me. He got me in trouble. He better get me out. “Wait! Wait! Wait! Listen! Listen! Hold on, wait, wait! I can explain!” I waved my hands frantically. She actually came to a stop in front of us, looking up at Qasim and me. “Explain.” There was no humor in her expression. “We were just talking…” “Oh. Talking.” She smiled. This was not a smile I had seen on her before. It did not feel friendly. “Yes. We weren't training.” She continued staring at me through Qasim as if he didn't exist. “We were just talking about training.” “Oh, how convenient. I hadn't known you spoke with your hands.” “I guess you could call it body language?” Wrong dialogue option. She immediately started pushing Qasim to the side and darting around him to get to me. I instinctively scurried the other way while trying to keep Qasim between us. “Lady Daniels, if it is any consolation, Mr. Xu and I truly were merely speaking.” Qasim finally said something in my defense. “Pray tell, Sir Nusseibeh, what sort of conversation requires lifting someone over your head?” “Lynne, we really were just talking. He was just demonstrating—” I started trying to explain. Only Lynne's eyes looked back to me. I immediately regretted opening my mouth. “Ah. So first it was merely talking, now it's demonstrating.” Why was I scared of this little UK accent having school girl? I could practically see over her. “Lynne, my leg doesn't even hurt, but I still skipped training today because I told you I would. We're not even training. He was just showing me something.” Qasim looked back toward me. “Oh, were you still injured? You moved like you were fine.” He said. “I am fine, thank you! See? He didn't even know. I'm not even injured anymore.” I didn't know what I was trying to convince Lynne of at this point. I just knew a needle through the eyeball sounded rather uncomfortable. “He moved like he was fine?” Lynne turned her attention back to Qasim, but the way she said it didn't have any curiosity. It felt like a trap, and Qasim was going to drop me right in it. “Yes. He had shown me the outside leg trip but found it to be insufficient, so he tried another from the inside and even went for a follow-up hip toss. However, I lifted him from off his—” “So you were sparring…” “Well…” Qasim looked up for a moment and started nodding. “I suppose you could say that—” “No! You're supposed to say no! That wasn't sparring!” My interjection was too late. Lynne looked back up at me. This time she just looked disappointed. “You promised me.” This time she wasn't scary. It just hurt when she said it like that. “You had taken my pinky against yours and made a sacred oath. Had you taken me for a fool?” “No, Lynne. That's not it.” I stepped aside from Qasim so there was no barrier protecting me from her. “Look, I can see why this looks like training to you, but I really didn't see it that way at the time. We really were just talking. He told me the sweep wouldn't work, I asked him how, and he showed me.” “That is training!” “Okay, maybe it is, but I didn't think it was at the time. But more importantly, I didn't lie to you.” Lynne's face softened slightly. “I really did take that pinky promise seriously. I even skipped training today, and when I went home yesterday, I stopped myself from practicing the kick when I realized I was practicing it because I didn't want to break that promise.” She didn't say anything and continued to look at me. “I even listened to you and stacked my clothes on my bed and rested my leg on them like you said. And you were right! My leg feels almost back to normal.” “Almost healed is not fully healed.” “How did I know you were going to say something like that?” “If you knew, why didn't you listen?” “I did listen. I guess I just didn't think our conversation would count as training.” I pointed back at myself and Qasim, who very clearly wanted to leave. Lynne crossed her arms, but she was listening. “And besides, I'm pretty sure my leg is back to normal. You said I could train when I could run around.” “I had said you shall do nothing to further aggravate your leg.” “But that didn't aggravate it at all!” Lynne continued to stare at me. “No, really. Look.” I hopped on my right leg. “See? There's no pain.” Lynne stared at me. I continued hopping. I was pretty sure I won that argument.

Chapter 32