Shoes placed where Marcus had just swept.
Small acts.
Childish acts.
The kind Derek could dismiss as jokes if anyone challenged him.
Henry noticed some of it.
Not enough.
One evening, assistant coach Rachel Kim finally said,
“You need to tell him to stop.”
Henry looked toward Derek.
“He’s being an idiot.”
“He’s being an idiot to an employee.”
“I’ll handle it.”
“When?”
Henry did not answer.
That was his second mistake.
Marcus did not need protecting because he was helpless.
He needed a workplace where another person’s success did not excuse disrespect.
There was a difference.
Three weeks after Derek won the title, Titan held a Friday open mat.
About thirty people came.
Competitors.
Beginners.
Several teenagers from the youth program.
A few parents stayed to watch.
Derek brought the championship belt.
He placed it on a chair beside the cage.
People took photographs.
A fourteen-year-old named Tyler asked if he could hold it.
Derek smiled.
“Earn one.”
The boy laughed uncertainly.
Derek eventually handed it over.
But Henry noticed the boy’s expression.
He filed it away.
Again, later.
Always later.
Marcus arrived at eight.
He had already worked nine hours at the community college.
His right knee hurt.
His younger sister had called that afternoon because their mother’s assisted-living facility had raised its monthly rate again.
Marcus had taken the extra cleaning job partly to help cover it.
He was tired.
He wanted to finish by ten-thirty and go home.
Derek wanted an audience.
The problem started near the cage.
A beginner named Lucas was practicing takedown entries with another student.
Derek watched for thirty seconds.
Then laughed.
“You’re begging to get flattened.”
Lucas stopped.
“What am I doing?”
“Everything.”
Derek stepped in.
He corrected him aggressively.
Lucas tried again.
Still wrong.
Derek sighed.
“My grandmother moves faster than that.”
A few people laughed.
Lucas forced a smile.
Marcus was wiping the cage door nearby.
Derek continued.
“Commit.”
Lucas tried again.
Derek stopped him.
“No.”
Again.
“No.”
Again.
“No.”
Lucas’s face reddened.
Marcus said quietly,
“He’s tired.”
Derek turned.
“What?”
Marcus realized he had spoken aloud.
“Nothing.”
“No.”
Derek smiled.
“I heard you.”
Marcus kept wiping.
“I said he’s tired.”
Derek looked toward Lucas.
“He’s tired?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“When people get tired, they stop hearing ten corrections at once.”
The room became quieter.
Derek laughed.
“You coach now?”
“No.”
“Then how about you clean and I coach?”
Marcus nodded.
“Fair enough.”
He went back to the cage door.
The exchange should have ended there.
But Derek had thirty people watching.
He wanted the last word.
“So what would you tell him?”
Marcus ignored him.
“Come on.”
No response.
“You had an opinion.”
Marcus finally turned.
“I’d tell him to breathe, slow down, and do one thing correctly.”
Derek looked at Lucas.
Then back at Marcus.
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
“Brilliant.”
Marcus shrugged.
“Usually simple works.”
Derek stepped closer.
“You ever train?”
Marcus paused.
“Years ago.”
“What?”
“Judo.”
A few fighters looked interested.
Derek smiled.
“There we go.”
Marcus immediately regretted answering.
“You a black belt?”
“Yes.”
Derek’s eyebrows lifted.
“How long ago?”
“A long time.”
“Still got it?”
Marcus picked up his spray bottle.
“Probably not.”
Derek laughed.
“Honest.”
Then another fighter asked,
“You compete?”
Marcus did not answer.
Derek caught that.
“Oh.”
He smiled wider.
“He competed.”
Marcus looked at him.
“I said years ago.”
“What level?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Regional?”
Marcus wiped the cage.
Derek followed him.
“State?”
Marcus stopped.
“Derek.”
It was the first time he used the champion’s name that evening.
“I’m working.”
That should have been enough.
Instead Derek took the silence as an invitation to invent the answer.
“Probably local tournaments.”
Marcus resumed cleaning.
Derek laughed toward the others.
“You know how every old guy who did martial arts in 1997 suddenly becomes a secret killer?”
A few people laughed.
Marcus did not.
Lucas looked uncomfortable.
Rachel Kim stepped closer.
“Derek. Enough.”
Derek raised both hands.
“I’m joking.”
Rachel looked at Marcus.
“You okay?”
“I’m fine.”
That answer gave Derek exactly the excuse he wanted.
“See?”
Then he pointed toward the mat.
“Come on, Marcus.”
“No.”
“Thirty seconds.”
“No.”
“Not even sparring.”
“No.”
“Just grappling.”
Marcus looked at him.
And for the first time that evening, the room seemed to hold its breath.
The Challenge
Marcus stared at Derek.
The younger man stood in the center of the mat with the confidence of somebody who had never been forced to question his own ability.
“Just grappling,” Derek repeated.
Marcus shook his head.
“I said no.”
Derek laughed.
“Why?”
“Because I don't want to.”
That answer should have ended everything.
But Derek was no longer interested in training.
He was interested in winning a social battle.
“Afraid?”
Marcus looked at him.
“No.”
“Then why not?”
“Because I know what happens when people turn training into something it isn't.”
Derek tilted his head.
“What does that mean?”
“It means you're not asking me to train.”
A few people exchanged glances.