Marcus smiled.
“What?”
“You're young.”
Then Elijah walked toward the ring.
The gym fell completely silent.
Marcus grinned.
He had finally gotten what he wanted.
Or at least, he thought he had.
The First Lesson
Elijah climbed through the ropes.
The movement was slow.
Marcus smiled.
“Take your time.”
Elijah ignored him.
He walked to the center of the ring.
A young fighter handed him a pair of gloves.
They looked enormous against his hands.
Marcus laughed.
“You really want to do this?”
Elijah looked at him.
“No.”
Marcus frowned.
“Then why are you here?”
“Because you asked.”
There was something about that answer Marcus didn't understand.
Coach Harris stood outside the ring.
“Light sparring.”
Marcus nodded.
“Of course.”
Elijah raised his gloves.
Marcus raised his.
The bell rang.
Marcus moved forward immediately.
He threw a jab.
Elijah slipped it.
Marcus threw another.
Elijah stepped away.
Marcus threw a right.
Elijah wasn't there.
The young fighters around the ring began murmuring.
Marcus smiled.
Fast feet.
That was all.
He had expected the old man to be slow.
Instead, Elijah was simply... economical.
He didn't waste movement.
He didn't bounce.
He didn't show off.
He moved only when he needed to.
Marcus increased his speed.
Jab.
Cross.
Hook.
Elijah blocked the jab.
Moved away from the cross.
The hook passed in front of his face.
Marcus attacked again.
Elijah stepped inside.
For half a second, Marcus felt something touch his chest.
A glove.
Not hard.
Just a tap.
Marcus froze.
Elijah had hit him.
He didn't even know how.
The gym went quiet.
Elijah stepped back.
“Again.”
Marcus's jaw tightened.
He attacked.
This time he threw six punches.
Elijah avoided five.
The sixth landed against his shoulder.
Marcus grinned.
“Got you.”
Elijah nodded.
“Yes.”
Marcus stepped forward.
Elijah tapped him on the forehead.
Marcus stopped.
“What?”
“You leave your head open.”
Marcus's smile disappeared.
He raised his guard.
Elijah nodded.
“Better.”
Marcus came again.
He was no longer playing.
His punches were fast and powerful.
Elijah kept moving.
A jab.
A step.
A hook.
A turn.
A body shot.
A pivot.
Marcus became frustrated.
He chased.
That was his mistake.
Elijah moved sideways.
Marcus followed.
Elijah suddenly stepped forward.
His glove touched Marcus's ribs.
Tap.
Then his shoulder.
Tap.
Then his chin.
Tap.
Three strikes.
Three openings.
No power.
But perfect placement.
Marcus backed away.
Everyone was watching.
He felt embarrassed.
The old man wasn't beating him.
That would almost have been easier to accept.
He was teaching him.
And Marcus hated it.
“Stop moving,” Marcus snapped.
Elijah raised an eyebrow.
“Why?”
“So I can hit you.”
“That isn't how boxing works.”
Marcus charged.
Elijah waited.
At the last second, he stepped to the side.
Marcus's momentum carried him forward.
Elijah placed one hand against his shoulder and gently redirected him.
Marcus stumbled.
The gym erupted.
A few fighters laughed.
Marcus turned sharply.
His face burned.
Elijah didn't laugh.
That made Marcus angrier.
“You think this is funny?”
“No.”
“You're making me look stupid.”
“No.”
“Then what are you doing?”
Elijah lowered his gloves.
“Showing you something.”
“What?”
“That you don't have to hit hard to control a fight.”
Marcus stared at him.
Elijah continued.
“You have power. Everyone can see that.”
Marcus said nothing.
“But power makes you impatient.”
The words landed harder than any punch.
Elijah stepped closer.
“You believe every problem can be solved by hitting harder.”
Marcus clenched his fists.
“Maybe it can.”
Elijah shook his head.
“That belief will eventually cost you something.”
Marcus stepped toward him.
“What would you know?”
Elijah looked at him for a long moment.
“More than you think.”
The bell rang.
Coach Harris climbed into the ring.
“That is enough.”
Marcus didn't move.
Elijah removed the gloves.
As he handed them back, Marcus noticed something.
There was an old scar running across Elijah's left eyebrow.
Not a small scar.
A long, pale line.
Marcus stared at it.
“Where'd you get that?”
Elijah touched the scar.
“Somewhere I shouldn't have been.”
“Fighting?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
Elijah smiled sadly.
“A man who thought he couldn't lose.”
Marcus looked away.
“Sounds like a fool.”
Elijah nodded.
“He was.”
Marcus expected the old man to leave.
Instead, Elijah sat on the bench outside the ring.
He watched the next fighter train.