It was my first day of training in the art of sparring. There was so much to learn, not just in form, but how to thoroughly incapacitate my opponent.

“Your moves are flimsy,” Sensei roared. To demonstrate this remark, his wooden staff connected to my ankles and sent me crashing to the floor, knocking the wind out of my lungs.

As I coughed, the butt end of a staff entered my vision.

“And therefore makes you clumsy,” Sensei continued. He smacked my arm with the wood. “Stand up!” I hastily jumped to my feet, picking my own staff back up, wobbling over my still-throbbing ankles. He whacked those, too. “Spread your feet! Solidify your stance!”

I planted my feet to the mat, bent my knees to maintain balance, and raised my staff at shoulder level.

Sensei had already readied his, with more fiery calm in his stern face than I felt in my entire body.

“BEGIN!”