"You really did forget your dad's karate, kid?" Takizawa asked him. "Sort of…?" Imura answered.
Two hours ago, when Imura was left to cry and miss his family. Suddenly Takizawa interrupted the sorrowing silence between them in that club. Gave him a piece of paper that contained his phone number. Told him: 'to call him after he reaches home'. And this is where they are now, standing in the middle of a yet to be lively kids park in the middle of the sunny afternoon.
They've been going at it for a few minutes now. An exploration of what they could pick up from the past: and that happened to be whatever karate his own father had taught him until fifteen years old. He didn't know the name yet, Katsumi never told him its name. Apparently it doesn't even have a name. But it had its own form— its own katas founded all by his own handiwork. But Imura had abandoned it long ago until he came back to the basics again.
Meanwhile some passerby's walked by. Some with glances of interest and some without, the two have been focusing on the stance, the movements, and the breathing technique required for one kata. Takizawa busily adjusted the young man's arms, his shoulders and his head. "Your front arm's gotta remain a bit bent like that. Keep the center of gravity down a bit. Now strike,"
Imura's head fliched to him, trying to say which, while not messing up his pose. "Punch." Takizawa continued, though he still wasn't specific. Imura did a reverse punch; in hopes that it's the right one. "Good."
Punch— block upwards, and downwards, like taking a sword's attack with one arm. Front kick, turn around— punch and repeat. Imura moved in a machine-like rhythm. Meanwhile his new coach circled around him and just watched. It wasn't perfect, it wasn't too bad either. Although there was something like passion that lacked within each movement. None but a slight demonstration to how little hope he had in karate itself.
He kept going again and again— until on the eighth try when he felt that he's had enough, he shifted his stance, turned around, and asked the old man, "How much more do I have to keep doing this?" his tone had a reasonable amount of annoyance. "What, you're in a hurry or somethin'?" asked Takizawa, almost in a shot-back kind of way.
Imura hesitated to respond. He already has many things in mind rushing around. "…Well I've gotta study. I got exams in a few days, you know?" he was truthful about that, but had a different focus set otherwise.
"If that's the case, then let's end it off with a little spar." Takizawa said, letting his arms fall to the side as if the match had already been decided. Imura protested, somewhat terrified, "Wait— I can't. I already got done with that, remember..?!"
The old man sighed, clearly disappointed like a child disapproved to play. "Whatever. You and your exams…"
Imura gave him a long stare. Was that it, or was it not? He didn't know. By the way he said it, it was as if he was letting him go. "…So?" asked he.
"So, I want you to stay here for a few more min's before y'go home."
"Oh, come on…"
"Relax kid. This is somethin' you've never been taught, and it's pretty easy. Come close," he shook his hand, gesturing for him to do so. Imura obeyed.
Takizawa told him to step closer. And closer, and closer. Until eventually they were just a few metres away, where any strike would be viable apart from kicks. Then he told him to pay attention, and throw a punch— any straight punch at him slowly.
Imura, still not following, did. The next thing he knew was the coach parrying it. Then without warning— he sent his own punch, as slow as his. Imura thought the need to parry it away. "Good."
Unspoken, but felt the need to do so— Imura threw another punch, this time with his right. Takizawa blocked it, and countered. Imura criss-crossed.
And then another. And another. And another, another, another, and another. The speed gradually went up and up and up. Each fist and movement told him to do what next; to keep going and going. Imura could feel the intensity rising, adrenaline pumping. This was no spar, but it felt like that way. No one was harming eachother, all the way figuring out how to avoid punches and react. Then came a strike from above; what will Imura do with that? Simple, he'll block it from above.
And so the cycle went on and on. And on, and on. Imura was focused. His heart was pumping blood faster like it would on sport. Like a hawk with its intense eyes, Imura remained focused. Eventually—
Takizawa grabbed a striking arm, swept him off balance, then hung a fist inches in front of his face— breaking all momentum and his rhythm.
"Always expect the unexpected, kid." Takizawa said coolly. A smirk tugged across his face. The words hung along with them both. Takizawa let him go eventually, letting Imura feel the grassy ground below after such uncomfortable moment. He stared at the sky above, watching the clouds, wondering what he just did.
Anyone who walked by and stood around to watch didn't matter to him, not to Takizawa either. He was already stuck thinking about this moment— on what has happened. "So, how're you feeling now, kid?" Takizawa happened to sit beside him.
"I'm wondering that myself, teach…" Imura dryly joked..with a smile so faint. A rare kind that left even the old man slightly surprised. He chuckled, "That so? You know what we just did there?"
"No." he said.
"Drills. We did just drills there, boy. You can call 'em, reciprocal drills."
"Yeahh…a bit too fancy for me. Any alternatives?"
"Partner drills. There you go."
For a moment there was something that he felt. Peace…he felt that right now. And he felt that in a way that made him keep any other problems pushed hidden under his mind for now. Hope, peace, and maybe a bit of excitement after all of that. It didn't feel all the way right— sure. But it felt right. It sure did.
And it felt so right, he thought that he could joke and smile for once. "…Say, teach, how long have you been doing karate?"
"I don't know— ten years? Why?"
"I don't know…I just wanted to ask. Made me wonder after all this time, you know?" Imura replied.
Takizawa was noticing something. "Well, you sure should've asked somethin' else, kid. That's not much of an interesting question, really."
"Oh yeah?" Imura said, now sitting up, "Then what should I?"
"You could start by askin' me what's my favourite car!" Takizawa replied. "And I love me one of those AT models they've been releasin'."
Imura chuckled.
"Oh yeah, those are cool."
Ever since the moment he got to talk with this young man after such a long absence, Mr.Takizawa couldn't help but figure that there was something disturbing his heart, even during the moment he just made a small talk with him. Even during the moment he fought with him, it was as though something dark was motivating him to push forward like that. Again and again.
Then when this young man broke down finally—
It all made sense.
But now…now he could see something else. Something new just a few hours laters.
"Yeah…Those are real cool." That this young man could smile and laugh.
Imura joked passionately for the first time in a while. Even if something gnawed at him at the back of his mind.
And those minutes went by just like that for the both of them. The more they chattered, the more the ties grew. That tie that kept them as teacher and student broke. More like it was replaced with…
A man and uncle form of tie. That tie only ever came back years later. And it took a little familiarizing to get to that point. But wasn't it just worth it.
"Listen, kid, you're no boy no more. So you gotta keep strong with the future, you get that? I'll be headin' away now."
"Yeah…"
Imura watched him go. Not as a martial arts coach— No. Rather as an uncle of his. He watched him walk away with his hands tucked under the pockets of his green jacket. Imura remained stood there. Standing in the middle of the small streets as dozens of children cheered their ways into the park beside him. Their parents talking to them, and also playing with them.
It's time to go home now.
------------------------
8:30 PM,
Only been a day since he went, and yet the gym felt like a distant memory. Inside was the usual chaos of intense training, bag punching, sparring, pad training, and exercise. Mr.Keichi taught his youngest student, Nakamura how to uppercut with sharp demonstration— There was Himuro, a battle-loving boxer, sparring a rival and yet a friend, Kazuki Natsumoto. Their fighting styles clashed with each punches, like a tiger and a lion. Thrill and adrenaline flowed through them so much that they just couldn't stop smiling in their fight.
But there was something a little…interesting. Some interesting fellows appeared within the gym. And Imura was yet to find out, even though he barely knew.
He pulled the door open and then went inside. Felt as though he was somewhat lost, but he knew the drill. He took his sneakers off, and the next thing he knew were unfamiliar people eyeing on him with interest. That included Keichi himself, his coach, who just happened to be interrupt the pad training.
The first glance Keichi gave was skeptical and strong, "What's with those bruises?" he said, pointing at his face while approaching him. Imura wasn't sure how to reply…"I got into a fight yesterday…Nothing much." He chuckled, deliberately brushing it off.
"A what now?" that only raised the coach's suspicions. He raised an eyebrow. "What'd you do now?"
Imura hesitated, but then tried again: "Self defense…?"
The coach had every right to be skeptical. Just what happened yesterday wasn't something to take lightly. The news echoed all around town that reached the homes of even Himuro's, that Kazuki fellow's, and even Nakamura's. The description they got: a young man with a lean build in a school-esque uniform. One that looked as young as maybe a highschooler at most.
Yesterday just wasn't a day worth remembering at all…He was nervous. Uncomfortably with the fact that his coach may know just what happened yesterday, and he might start pursuing answers out of him more and more.
—But the coach let it slide for now. "Alright." He said, a part of him believed Imura wouldn't be involved in something like that. "You doing okay, nonetheless?"
"Sure am." Imura smiled faintly, nodding. Keichi told him to prepare up then, walking away like he wasn't bothered.
These guys though.
Three people, nothing about them spoke 'boxing' out of their body language. Maybe some kind of different martial art. The aesthetics to the clothing, one on the center— a foreign looking man, possibly European, or anything else of origin, with designer sleeves, tight trowsers combined with shorter pants above it— hanging outside of the ring ropes, watching two people box and spar wih interest— laughing, joking, and even bantering. Loud were they? Definitely not. They weren't loud at all. They carried a rather sporty mannerism, aesthetics that make them three stand out in the gym.
Imura didn't bother with them that much. He found himself a seat to slouch his bag over to sit. He went straight into warm ups. Stretches, axe kicks that made the ball of his feet almost look above at the ceiling. Few light punches, before intensifying it into a proper shadowbox. Weaving, striking, jabs, uppercuts, straights, dodges, in a way like he's fighting an opponent already.
'Aaaaa…AHHH!!!' a loud scream echoed suddenly, interrupting his rhythm. It was like a scream almost, but also like a dramatic groan to defeat. And you would be correct to think that was it. Imura looked over at the ring— laughs played out like a party. There, there was Kazuki with his head down in utter defeat, ropes gripped as tightly as he ever could with those gloves on. Imura went to check to see what was going on.
"Man, I told you not to try something you can't do, man." Himuro said behind the man with ragged breathes. "Shut up…" Kazuki replied, gravelly like he was holding down the lump of venom in his throat.
"What's going on here?" Imura begged. Looking at those newcomers and at the two inside of the ring.
"Oh, nothin' much," Himuro brushed it off with a swing of his right hand. "Kazuki's just angry that he lost. Nothin' to worry about."
"You..ELBOWED me-!!" he whipped behind himself with attack-like speed. "Woah— woah, calm down now, what is this now?!" Imura tried to resolve the situation.
"Hey, hey, look, I'm sorry, alright…?" Himuro surrendered. "Alright, I cheated. Shouldn't have elbowed you back there…I'm sorry, okay?"
Kazuki snorted, "Punk." A growl that came almost sincere with the meanings it conveyed. He walked out of the ring, not caring if he bumped shoulders with Imura or not. His movements fueled with frustrations.
Just what was that about…?
"By the way, Imura, these guys're our guests." Himuro called, pointing at the trio with his gloves. He apologized to them meanwhile for what just happened. The crew just laughed it off.
The one at the center, the one who piqued most of his interest, approached Imura with a chill smile on his face. Coming up to him with an extended hand, "Harold Kaiser,"
"Kashiwada Imura.." Imura shook it. The man had a noticably british accent.
"You doin' good, I suppose?"
"Sure. You?"
"Me too, mate." Harold nodded, "These're my friends…" he pointed at the two other with a flat hand, introducing them both, "Kenji Ehara, and Walker Holmes."
Imura greeted them both with a nod and a grin. The two did the same. So far, the atmosphere was feeling fresh. "We're uh…Just checkin' around the gym y'know? Hope that doesn't bother you or anything,"
"Huh?" Imura flinched, it was just too absurd to hear he thought. "No, of course not! You can check around all the time."
"Thanks," Harold chuckled. His grin never left.
"See, Mr.Harold here's a traveller from the overseas," Himuro chimed in, out of the ring and standing beside Imura now with a towel. "Travels around with his friends. Helps kids see things around the world too. Mostly kindergarten kids."
"Kindergarten kids…?!" Imura repeated, he was kind of surprised.
"Yup," Himuro nodded. "This time, though? He's out in Japan with his friends just to take a lil' break from work. And ain't these guys good fellas."
"Oi, enough with the flattery!"
Laughs filled the air again, and Imura was in on it too. Harold then said, "No— but seriously. Himuro and I are real close friends. We both attended highschool."
Imura looked at the man for a bit with a stern face, then at Himuro, like he was telling him: why didn't you tell me this before? "Did you now?" he actually told him.
"Yeeee…yeahhh…" Himuro said.
Imura looked at him for a bit longer. "Alright, now I do…" he looked back at Harold.
"Oh— yeah! I got a glimpse of you warming up there," Harold pointed to the mat where Imura was. "You do taekwondo or something, mate?"
"Wha— Oh…" Imura felt a little embarassed to talk about that. If only he did that somewhere else, he thought. "No, I used to do a lot of karate back in the days, hah…"
"That so?!"
"Yeah."
"Yoooo…check this guy out!" he jerked one thumb toward the young man's face, motioning for his friends to 'look' at the awesomeness of his story. "A karateka turned boxer, why'd that happen?
"Guess I just wasn't that interested…That's all."
"I see, I see." Harold nodded, acknowledging his response.
It fell on a short silence for them all for a bit. Then before anyone could speak, Kazuki stepped back in. This time more the less tempered. He walked over and slouched an arm over Imura's shoulder, like a sneaky snake: "What're you guys talkin' about huh?" he asked that more to Imura than anyone else. "Well…we're—"
Kazuki interrupted: "Listen here, Imura, coach's getting' real fed up with you just chitty-chattying with these guys over here." He pointed at them, and even though he knew they could understand, he personally didn't even care at all. "Now he said if you slack around, you're welcome to get outta the gym anytime."
"I'm not slacking around."
"Convo' seems like it."
Imura's cheeks bubbled up in annoyance, he sighed. "Alright, I'll get to it…Just tell the coach not to kick me out, okay?"
"Oh I will, but he's got something else he wants you to do now, and that ain't training pads nor punching bags." Kazuki grinned out his teeth, knowing whatever's on his mind, it seemed to amuse him. "What?" Imura asked.
Kazuki then looked at those foreigners, jabbing his chin at them and said: "You guys wanna give it a go?"
That seemed to shock them.
"Us?" Harold said through a slight laugh out of his nose.
But Himuro wasn't having it with that offer. He chimed in, holding Kazuki but his right shoulder behind him while saying, "Hey, hey, you've got any idea what you're asking for here, Kaz?"
"Coach wants to see it." He replied simply.
"Coach…?"
Now, if anyone's up for the offer, raise a hand. That's what Kazuki told them next. The attitude he brought was one unwelcoming surprise; not just to them, but the gym as well. And that's what Himuro hated about this guy. Always full of energy, energy used in the wrong way. He couldn't see why the Coach looked upto him even still. "No one?"
Walker raised a hand. A man from Canada. "Me." he said, polite yet playful as well. Kazuki was amused by that. "Imura,"
Imura was hesitant. He wasn't expecting three foreigners come up to the gym for a visit— sure. But he definitely wasn't expecting a little sparring session with one of them ASWELL. "…Sure?"
The fight's been accepted. And interestingly, this wasn't happening within the boxing ring itself. No.
It was happening somewhere else. In the middle of the training mat that got cleared out momentarily for this fight. Interestingly, Walker obliged that he doesn't wear any head gear since he's not used to that. Not any gloves either. To keep matters fair, Imura decided not to go with any of those either. Fortunately, Keichi didn't refuse. Instead, he watched from the background with folded arms, spectating the events unfold.
This was definitely a strange offer…but what could Imura do now, really? He couldn't back down from this.
But at least he was interested in knowing just how one of these foreigners fight. Travelling and martial arts are an interesting mix.
"Hey, Imura, right?" Walker said. "You wouldn't mind me using my things and you do yours, right?"
"Sure. Boxing against whatever you're using…let's get it."
"Sure thing boss." he wore his mouthpiece. The plastic clenching into his teeth below.
Kazuki was the referee of this match. And he felt so in control. "STANCE!"
Imura's orthodox stance awakened.
Nothing interesting out of Walker's, though.
Why's he just standing still like he's standing in the middle of the park for…?
"Ohhhh— Mr.Walker!" Kazuki called him mockingly. Walker chuckled, like it was a small mistake he just made. "Okayy…"
His posture bent down. And his arms remained loose to his sides like they were to fall. That's interesting.
Kazuki said forget it, and went straight in: "BEGIN!!"
…
Nothing. Nothing happened for a moment.
Imura's definitely seen stances like this before in TV. Boxers who used it as a form of style. It didn't work great for the most part, but the tactics were interesting. He didn't know just what to expect from something like this. Not at all, and it wasn't that he was underestimating his opponent…
That was until he started to laugh a bit, like he was trying to cheer the crowd up. And it was just a simple play. "I'm actually kind of nervous, man."
"Is it now?" Kenji said from the background, "It is." Walker snapped his head to him then back at Imura.
That glare he gave just wasn't it. Speculatively as nervous as he admitted to be.
The boxer stepped in with the usuality of his rhythm. A JAB.
Light, fast, didn't hurt much. But this Walker fellow caught it with one shoulder in a way that looked like he was actually trying to dodge it but failed. Imura took a step back, just testing the waters. And to test it even more, threw another stone— a jab. Walker flinched.
But then something incredible happened…
Walker STRODED toward him like an athlete— closing the distance so much with such a reckless tactic— Imura threw a punc—
Four consecutive blows right to the upper and lower body. The thigh, stomach, liver, light as like a feather, but intimidating like a lion's claw. Imura didn't know what else to do other than to throw swings uncalculated. But Walker had already stepped away like smoke.
Two eyes batted against another two eyes for a moment. Imura rushed in with a swing, Walker slipped through it— only grazing the back of his skull. Imura followed it up with a hook— it was took short. And then—
Walker stepped in with a tackle. Imura was completely alert, he had to deal with it somehow. But the man let go and climbed his body up following it WITH—
A punch square to the side of Imura's already damaged face. Not strong enough to fall him crashing onto the floor. Imura faltered back trying to regain his full senses. What was that just now…?!
And yet there was Walker just standing in front of him, barely surprised, barely flinched— from what he had just done. It was as if he had done things like that many, many times.
"So, you wanna keep goin' pretty face?" A deliberate insult came straight out of his mouth. Unlike how he's been this whole time.
"Of course…" Imura said boldly.
"Alright. Let's keep it up a notch, huh?
This was just the beginning of an already intense fight.