but the wounds of a warrior. He knew something within him had changed from that moment. He had won confidence in himself. He continued his walk with a smile, massaging his hands.
* * *
“Danny, I would like to introduce you to Mook Jong . He will be your new training partner when I’m not here,” said Sifu Kwan, presenting the wooden dummy.
“I’m going to start practicing on the dummy?”
“Yes, your training is going well and it’s time for you to learn the techniques on the figure. The Mook Jong will help you to dissect your movements, correct your positions, harden up your forearms. When you train with him, it’s as though you’re in combat with a real adversary.
“Ok, Sifu.”
Danny began to train with the dummy. Danny’s blows were audible throughout the training space. Sometimes, he became too concentrated and put out too much force so that he hit too hard and hurt himself.
“Ow!” cried Danny, holding his fist. He had thrown a straight punch and hit the dummy with a jerk. He felt shock waves vibrate his bones.
“ Mook Jong has won this round!” cried Sifu. “You need to learn how to control your hits. Continue!”
* * *
Over the months, Sifu Kwan noticed on Danny’s impressive progress and after three years at his school, he had already surpassed many older students, despite his young age. Sifu Kwan had often remarked on Danny’s skill from the beginning, but he really took conscious at age twelve. Sifu arrived one afternoon at the school when he saw him train in combat with an advanced student. There was no-one but them at the Kwoon. The radio played in the school and the two didn’t notice Sifu enter. He stayed there, watching the two in friendly combat and watched Danny beat his adversary. The movements were sharp, rapid, parse and precise. He chained the hit sequences with a speed too great for the eye. He stayed calm and relaxed. He dominated his opponent who was twice his age and double his size. He continued to admire Danny performing the art to which he had dedicated his life benefitting from each movement that he made to imagine how he would do against his attacks. He couldn’t stop himself from watching the flurry of Danny’s attacks and hearing his impacts which resonated through the school.
* * *
Adolescence was hard for Danny. He was closed off. He never stopped grieving for his parents. What made him sadder was that he didn’t have but a vague memory of them and that made him angry. He forgot them. A sadness and rage within him burned and the only peace he found was in his training.
He didn’t like school and he got into too many fights. One time, a group of kids had tried to steal his pocket money in the lockers. The three kids were found unconscious. He had to explain to the staff later that he’d been simply defending himself. The event came hot on the heels of a warning to control his temper. He had average grades, but he put no effort into them. The lit teacher, a mildly obese man who loved the sound of his own voice, detested Danny’s attitude of flagrant disinterest. Known among the students and faculty for being one finger short to be an alcoholic, it wasn’t rare for a smell of alcohol to accompany him into the classroom. Danny found him condescending and ridiculous with his fat stomach. He found that he preferred to show his knowledge to appear intelligent more than to inspire a love of literature in his students. He often joked at students’ expense in front of the class in expressing certain comments that Danny considered disrespectful to their face. He watched him gesticulating at the front, sweating just from talking. Danny found that he resembled a huge talkative pig pulled right out of a child’s fairytale. In the last year of high school, nearly done his studies, Danny was at the back in the process of reading a magazine as the fat teacher blabbed at the front. However, Pork chop had caught him
* * *
“Danny, I would like to introduce you to Mook Jong . He will be your new training partner when I’m not here,” said Sifu Kwan, presenting the wooden dummy.
“I’m going to start practicing on the dummy?”
“Yes, your training is going well and it’s time for you to learn the techniques on the figure. The Mook Jong will help you to dissect your movements, correct your positions, harden up your forearms. When you train with him, it’s as though you’re in combat with a real adversary.
“Ok, Sifu.”
Danny began to train with the dummy. Danny’s blows were audible throughout the training space. Sometimes, he became too concentrated and put out too much force so that he hit too hard and hurt himself.
“Ow!” cried Danny, holding his fist. He had thrown a straight punch and hit the dummy with a jerk. He felt shock waves vibrate his bones.
“ Mook Jong has won this round!” cried Sifu. “You need to learn how to control your hits. Continue!”
* * *
Over the months, Sifu Kwan noticed on Danny’s impressive progress and after three years at his school, he had already surpassed many older students, despite his young age. Sifu Kwan had often remarked on Danny’s skill from the beginning, but he really took conscious at age twelve. Sifu arrived one afternoon at the school when he saw him train in combat with an advanced student. There was no-one but them at the Kwoon. The radio played in the school and the two didn’t notice Sifu enter. He stayed there, watching the two in friendly combat and watched Danny beat his adversary. The movements were sharp, rapid, parse and precise. He chained the hit sequences with a speed too great for the eye. He stayed calm and relaxed. He dominated his opponent who was twice his age and double his size. He continued to admire Danny performing the art to which he had dedicated his life benefitting from each movement that he made to imagine how he would do against his attacks. He couldn’t stop himself from watching the flurry of Danny’s attacks and hearing his impacts which resonated through the school.
* * *
Adolescence was hard for Danny. He was closed off. He never stopped grieving for his parents. What made him sadder was that he didn’t have but a vague memory of them and that made him angry. He forgot them. A sadness and rage within him burned and the only peace he found was in his training.
He didn’t like school and he got into too many fights. One time, a group of kids had tried to steal his pocket money in the lockers. The three kids were found unconscious. He had to explain to the staff later that he’d been simply defending himself. The event came hot on the heels of a warning to control his temper. He had average grades, but he put no effort into them. The lit teacher, a mildly obese man who loved the sound of his own voice, detested Danny’s attitude of flagrant disinterest. Known among the students and faculty for being one finger short to be an alcoholic, it wasn’t rare for a smell of alcohol to accompany him into the classroom. Danny found him condescending and ridiculous with his fat stomach. He found that he preferred to show his knowledge to appear intelligent more than to inspire a love of literature in his students. He often joked at students’ expense in front of the class in expressing certain comments that Danny considered disrespectful to their face. He watched him gesticulating at the front, sweating just from talking. Danny found that he resembled a huge talkative pig pulled right out of a child’s fairytale. In the last year of high school, nearly done his studies, Danny was at the back in the process of reading a magazine as the fat teacher blabbed at the front. However, Pork chop had caught him
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