Seth sat in his parked truck, gi pants and loose gray Central Fighting Arts training camp shirt on, hands gripping the steering wheel and staring at the gymnasium of Grand Island High. He forced his hands to relax, and a shaky, nervous breath to leave his body. He looked down from the open doors and the registration table in front of them to his trusty black duffel sitting in the passenger seat, worn from seven years of usage and semi-abuse. It was fully boxed out with his gear, gi top, a spare gi, and mat shoes. Seth didn't know why he brought those, he never opted to wear them.

Seth snatched his keys out of the ignition, then grabbed his bag and left the vehicle. Locking the door, he set off through the parking lot to the open doors of the gymnasium. Seven years ago, when Seth had first walked into his martial arts school, Grand Island was a small tournament he'd only attended because the senior instructor at Grand Island Kickboxing and Ms. Tull were old friends. There'd been maybe five kids in each division that year. Seth had gone home with the bronze for his. Come to think of it, that had been his first-ever podium placement.

Now Grand Island attracted people from even out of state. Registration in Seth's 16-18 black belt males division had been at thirty competitors last he had seen on Grand Island's website, with an even stronger showing in the adult weight class brackets. Seth wasn't concerned with that though, he was concerned with one specific name he'd confirmed to be registered just last week.

"Seth!" A bubbly voice greeted him and he pulled out of his reverie to give Claire a smile as she pushed the registration clipboard for "B" to the edge of the table. Claire was, like Seth, a black belt, though she trained out here at Grand Island Kickboxing. She brushed a strand of curly, sand-blond hair out of her face and forced it into submission in her ponytail as Seth signed next to his name:

Blackwell, Seth. Black belt, male, 16-18.

"We haven't heard from you all summer," said Paul, the other black belt sitting at the table. His posture displayed his displeasure at the summer heat. Beads of sweat collected under his short-cut brown hair. "Usually you stop by Grand Island at least once."

"Just training too hard to really train anywhere else, you know?"

Claire leaned in, her silver-green eyes sparkling in excitement. "So this is gonna be the year, then?"

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, it is." Seth swallowed.

She smiled. "Is Madeline coming out to watch you?"

Seth looked away for a moment. "No, she had an audition."

"Oh. I'm sorry. Is your family coming out-"

"No." Seth realized he'd snapped. "Sorry, no. They're both working." Well, at least his dad was. No way to be sure what his mom was doing these days. He looked down. "It's just me."

Paul rolled his eyes. "You're still gonna send some kid to the ER like you usually do. Moral support is overrated."

Claire shot Paul a glare then looked back to Seth. "I'd say I'll be cheering you on, but our divisions go at the same time. You know I'd be watching otherwise."

"Yeah, thanks."

"Has Ms. Tull or Coach John said you're ready to test for your black tab?"

Seth shrugged. "I haven't asked."

"I'm testing in the spring. I hope you're there with me like we were for our red tabs. That was a fun time."

Seth smirked. "You have a sick definition of fun, Claire." He slapped the table. "Alright. I've gotta head in and start loosening up after that long-ass drive. I'll see you around the rings."

He walked past Claire. He felt better after interacting with good friends of his. Hopefully, the CFA crew was already inside. He didn't want to deal with these jitters anymore.

***

Seth removed his shirt and looked at his reflection in the mirror. It still felt like he was staring at that chubby, uncoordinated white belt whose one redeeming quality was the demon of strength and endurance he could tap into when sufficiently angry. He blinked, still sometimes unable to reconcile the lean, sinewed reflection in front of him now with the reflection so many people had made fun of for years. He could feel the muscles between his shoulder blades tighten into that ever-present knot.

"You're just husky," his parents had always said.

"Hey, Seth, when was the last time you saw your dick?" Seth could hear the raucous laughter of his childhood tormentors.

Seth was definitely not husky now. Seven years of having his ass kicked and kicking ass in return, rarely eating anything aside from meat and vegetables, and working out like a madman had given him a body most guys would kill to have. And yet he still struggled to see it.

Seth looked away and snatched his gi top out of his duffel, putting it on and then wrapping his black belt around his waist. He cinched it tight, making the knot as perfect as possible. He hated losing his belt in the middle of a match.

"Still tying it tight to keep your gut in?" There was the faintest twinge of a second-generation Irish accent in that voice.

Seth's back muscles stiffened and his hands made fists as he turned around. Several paces in from the entry to the locker room stood Jayson Mowry, arms folded across his chest. His steel-gray eyes looked on in arrogance, his chin raised half an inch higher than any normal person would have kept it.

"Well? You've gone deaf now, too, Seth?"

Seth forced his voice to come from his diaphragm in an even tone. "Still on that, Jayson? I've been in better shape than you have for years now. They must not do that much cardio at South City Sandou."

Jayson looked at his three teammates behind him before addressing Seth.

"I've decided."

"Decided what?"

"I'm going to break your arm this year. Yup. Sure am. Gonna give you a one-way trip to the hospital. Gonna be a real Karate Kid sweep the leg moment. I'll bet you I don't even get disqualified."

"Yeah, okay." Seth snatched his duffel up and started across the locker room. Jayson's teammate, a just-under-average-height kid by the name of Vinnie, blocked his way. "Move," said Seth.

"He's not moving until I'm done, Seth." Jayson walked up from his side. Seth was fully prepared for a fight to go down right here, right now. Jayson had never jumped him outside the ring, but there was a tension on the air right now that made Seth's anger stir within his belly. Jayson was less than a foot from Seth's side. "I've heard you've been training real hard this year. It's not gonna be for any-"

Seth dropped his duffel and turned to face Jayson so they were almost nose to nose. "You want to be tough, Jayson? Is that what you want? Let's go right here. I swear I will fucking end you if you start something right now. Yeah, let's see it, motherfucker." The veins on Seth's neck bulged and red began to tint the edges of his vision.

Jayson stared right back at him, that arrogant smirk still scrawled across his face. "It's going to be just like last year, Seth. Your angry man act doesn't scare me one bit. I know you're still the fat little bitch. Always were, always will be."

"Swing and let's see what happens."

There was a long moment of silence. Jayson broke it off with a sharp laugh before walking off towards the showers. "See you in the ring, bitch."

Seth turned and walked out of the locker room, his anger still roiling inside him.