We stepped into the large arena housing the mixed martial arts tournament. There were hundreds of local dojo’s present. We had driven for an hour and a half up to Sacramento to spend the day competing. It seemed like every other school was bigger than ours. Every kid wore gi’s. This is America, so there was no standard color. It was really up to each dojo sensei and what they felt their colors should be. Ours were black and stood out against the more vibrant reds, blues, greens, and even purples. And of course there were the boring schools that sported traditional white. Lame.

We were ushered into bleacher style seating as an opening welcome speech was made. The front man for the whole thing walked up on stage complete in a samurai kimono. He leaned into the lapel mic and spoke.

“Welcome to the twenty-seventh annual NorCal martial arts world championship.”

Parents and students alike applauded.

“Martial arts are about discipline, tradition, and growth. But in the news and everywhere we look around us, people have never been more divided. Children are at the heart of it, in a figurative war zone. They are being tugged and pulled in every direction. There are so many negative influences out there from social media, to the darker parts of the web, and even YouTube. Kids need an outlet, a drive, something more than hours spent in front of the TV playing video games.”

A couple of vocal dads verbally agreed.

“These young men and women need to learn not just how to block punches and kicks, but how to block hostility and apathy. I believe that Yin and Yang resides within us all,” said the man motioning to a large banner behind him with the black and white swirling teardrop shapes forming a perfect circle. “Most people out there choose what is easy, instead of what is right. They lack discipline. They walk the black path. And yet there is a glimmer of hope for within the black there is white.

“But we are doing our part to teach our children, these young adults, that they can walk the white path, the light. But we also reinforce the need for humility. We must all never grow so prideful that we forget we are still prone to selfishness, and choosing the easy path when no one else is looking. This is why we do what we do. This is the meaning of this mixed martial arts competition. So whether you win or lose today, remember to choose the light.”

I was torn between jumping to my feet and giving a standing ovation, or rolling my eyes at the cheesiness of it.

But when I saw the look on Sensei Hector’s face, the glaze in his eyes, I knew that he took the words to heart, that he agreed with the speaker. So I kept my mouth shut.

It didn’t matter anyway. The fighting was about to begin. Our little school was paired off against other little schools in the brackets. We were pawned off to some corner circle and would have to claw our way to the top today. We were true underdogs.

We moved over to where the Kenjutsu matches were taking place and the students donned their protective gear and practiced with their bokken training katanas.

Our little dojo fought all the way up to lunch time without getting eliminated. We owed most of it to little Tommy. He kept winning match after match.

We had worked out with the parents beforehand that everyone would bring a snack bag for lunch, because for dinner we were going to get In-N-Out cheeseburgers. Even though I brought a bag lunch that Rob had made for me consisting of a tuna sandwich, a banana, and apple, and a granola bar along with some Chex mix, my stomach growled at the thought of sinking my teeth into a cheesy Double Double with raw and grilled onions on it.

I saw Tommy sit in the bleachers eating a ham and cheese sandwich. I tousled his hair. “You kickin’ some major butt out there Daniel-san.”

Tommy smiled with a mouthful of sandwich. “Dank you.”

“Don’t talk with you mouthful!” I scolded jokingly.

He giggled almost choking on his food.

“No seriously though kid, you’re doing is proud.”

Tommy had a special place in my heart. His dad passed away from cancer a few years back. I don’t know how his mom, still a single mother, could afford to bring Tommy into the dojo still. But I knew that if Sensei Hector had a soft spot for me, then he surely had a soft spot for Tommy. I figured Sensei worked out some kind of deal with Tommy’s mom, probably giving her a steep discount. After all the routine focus and discipline of martial arts was exactly what Tommy needed at a time like that. I knew. I totally related, having lost my own dad. And my sister.

After lunch things got a little more cutthroat. One by one every kid in our dojo was eliminated, everyone except for Tommy that was.

He got to the last fight that would’ve put us in the bracket for the real tournament.

“If he wins this fight we’ll go up against real dojos,” I muttered to Sensei.

“We are a real dojo,” Sensei Hector reminded me.

But he had the same determined look in his eye, a burning fire, the desire to see Tommy go all the way to the top, slashing every other 11-year-old brat out of our way until our dojo reigned supreme.

They paired Tommy up against a kid who stood taller than him by an inch or so, with longer legs and arms. In any other setting this kid would be considered lanky, but on the fighting mat he had an advantage. Tommy fought southpaw to his right side was the weaker of the two. For some reason the kid just couldn’t dodge slashes that came from his right. And the other kid figured it out early on. Points racked up against Tommy. But to his credit Tommy took the slashes in stride. Later on he’d have bruises on his arm for sure. He scored a few hits to the other kid’s torso, and even landed a shoulder stab. At least I thought he landed it, but the ref didn’t catch it. In the end it came down to the score.

We all held our breath.

“You’ve got this Tommy. I believe in you,” I muttered under my breath.

The judges made their decision and submitted it to the ref who stood between Tommy and the other kid.

Then in a heart-wrenching moment he raised the other kid’s hand. I tried to keep my face neutral but couldn’t hide my grimace.

An audible groan arose around us from the remaining students in our dojo.

“Hey!” Sensei Hector snapped. “Let’s give Tommy a round of applause.”

I could tell that Sensei forced the words past his teeth.

The other kids gave a weak hand to Tommy. But Tommy didn’t seem to notice. He hung his head in shame.

“Don’t look so glum buddy,” I lifted his chin up. “You did real good kid.”

“But I lost.”

“But you didn’t give up fighting either. How’s that arm feel?”

“It hurts.”

“You did the right thing, not the easy thing.” I patted him on the back. “We got In-N-Out burgers to eat.”

---

By the time we reached In-N-Out Vacaville, sunset was well underway. Bodies packed the burger joint as usual. What In-N-Out burger wasn’t packed?

Sensei Hector wanted us all to eat inside together. I brought Tommy, Kendrick, and Lance in my car. The rest of the kids rode in Sensei’s twelve passenger van and they even squeezed a few parents and their too. I drove around and around in vain.

“Looks like there’s no parking,” said Tommy.

I resisted the urge to say something sarcastic. They were only eleven-year-olds. I decided that I would have to park across the parking lot. As a made my way down the aisles, up-and-down, zigging and zagging, there was nowhere for my car to stop.

“Crap! They sure are crowded today.”

The burger joint sat smack dab in the middle of the outlets. Business always booming. And it being the weekend everyone was out blowing their hard-earned cash on things they didn’t need. Good old American consumerism. Even though I was willing to walk the extra distance, it was getting ridiculous.

“There’s nowhere to park at all!” whined Kendrick.

“Keep your gi on, kid.”

I knew in the back of every store they had to have employee parking. So I found an opening between two outlet stores that led to the back where the semi trucks dropped off merchandise. Sure enough there was plenty of parking in the back.

“We’ve got to walk soooo far,” complained Justin.

“It’s good for you. Builds character.” But inside I complained just as much. My stomach growled. Starvation creeping up not only on my physical wellbeing, but my emotions too. From Sacramento to Vacaville was about an hour’s drive if you weren’t speeding. And since I had other people’s kids in my car I didn’t speed too much, what with having to stay neck and neck with Sensei Hector’s 12 passenger van.

The kids exited my car and we shut the doors. As I turned my key locking the ‘Stang, my Keening flared.

“Race you boys to the burger joint. Last one there is a pink belt!”

I feigned like I was going to put on a burst of speed, then let the kids run ahead of me. In their eagerness to compete they didn’t even look back as they sprinted across the parking lot, laughing the whole way.

I stopped just beyond my car. Eyes bore into the back of my neck. An all too familiar set of eyes.

I turned and saw him.

Me.

The other Sean. The Fetch.

Whereas my black martial arts gi covered me, he stood mocking me in what I usually wore, jeans, a T-shirt, and my brown jacket thrown on for good measure. He smirked and I waited for him to run so I could chase his cowardly self.

But instead of running away, he charged me.

Before I could even fall into a defensive stance, OtherSean evaporated into thin air only to reappear at my side. His fist rushed at me, catching me in the gut. Any assumption in my mind that OtherSean was some sort of phantom or ghost or intangible apparition rushed out of me along with all the air in my lungs.

I crumpled to my knees. Man, I hit hard.

OtherSean didn’t give me a break and kicked me in the side of the head sending me tumbling.

I performed a kip-up right into a barrage of furious punches that dug into my chest. OtherSean beat me back up against the outlet store wall, pummeling me some new bruises. I reached inside for my Good Luck fully expecting emerald energy to spread from my chest and travel down my arms into my fists until they glowed green. But nothing of the sort happened.

Instead, I felt that sickening sensation I did the night before when I touched the Oak. Something inside me writhed behind my Keening, behind my chest. OtherSean punched my chest on the outside again and again so that I was threatened both from the inside and outside at the same time.

He stopped punching me long enough for me to slide down the wall onto my butt. He took a few steps back and then charged me again, launching himself into the air with a flying kick aimed at my head, intent on finishing me.

I did the only thing I could do. I reached inside to that writhing foreign power. I closed my eyes and imagined myself wrestling with the snakelike tendrils that forbade me from accessing my Luck. I intended to wrangle them all up, strangle them, and toss the dark mass out of my inner self and then tap into the Good stuff. But instead when my inner self grabbed onto those writhing tendrils unexpected power flooded into me.

In an instant the power rushed from my Keening spreading out all over me like red hot veins. All the while my Keening itself burned, but it felt amazing, like basking in the sun at the beach.

I spun out of the way and OtherSean’s kick collided with the wall. He recovered by backflipping off of the wall. We circled one another.

Goosebumps don’t even begin to describe the eeriness I felt while staring at this imposter. He stepped like me, his body moved like me. Heck, he even smiled like me. But he wasn’t me. Because I was. Although to be fair, I didn’t quite feel like my usual self either.

But why now? Why had he chosen to fight instead of run? Why taunt me at all? Why not go on impersonating me and frame me for whatever it is OtherSean wanted to do? It seemed like all this clone lived for was to interrupt my life at odd moments, rile me up, and then vanish without a trace as soon as I was pissed off and vulnerable.

But now he seemed intent on injuring me, possibly even killing me.

Perhaps the Keening got even worse since last night. If the Fetch was some sort of harbinger of my death, perhaps death was closer at hand then I realized. Still hard to believe with all of the foreign power that flooded my body. I felt like those guys in Red Bull commercials: hopped up and ready to dive out of an airplane without a parachute.

My fist rushed at his face but he dodged it. My leg arched towards his ribs but he rebounded out of the way. In fact, every move I threw at him he anticipated milliseconds before I acted. It was as if he could read my every thought and intention, as if he knew what attacks I planned to throw at him. Like he was inside my head.

Doubt crept into my thoughts. How could I beat myself, if I could anticipate every move? Not only that, but OtherSean knew my style, knew what my default moves were, knew which crutches I relied on most.

He switched from defense back to offense landing a punch to the side of my head. My eyes swam in their sockets. I tried to focus, tried to clear my head.

If I didn’t anticipate his moves, then that meant there were things he couldn’t anticipate about me. But my martial arts moves were an open book to him. And my Good Luck was off limits to me at the moment. Delving even deeper into my newfound magic was the only thing I could do. Even I couldn’t anticipate what would happen.

So I did.

But as I tried to focus, imposter Sean wouldn’t let up long enough for me to get a handle on it.

A spark of irritation grew into a small flame of anger. As he continued to land strike after strike of my own kata that I’d developed and perfected over the years, I snapped.

A death metal growl rumbled deep in my chest and worked its way up my throat like lava exploding from a volcano. A horrific guttural yell escaped my lips. Sonic sound waves shot out colliding with OtherSean.

The scream hit him like a pinball struck by the flippers at the right time, ricocheting him off of the ground. He flew through the air until he hit an adjacent wall of the outlet store. He slid down the wall landing in an open dumpster. The lid closed like I’d planned to take out the trash.

But I wasn’t done. I wanted to finish this pretender.

As I stepped up to the dumpster I made a plan of action. With one hand I’d throw open the lid, with the other I’d reach in and retrieve poser Sean by his neck. Then I’d lift him into the air and pound him into oblivion.

I threw open the lid but there was no imposter. A phantom wisp of smoke stretched into the sky.

OtherSean had done it again. He’d escaped me.

My blood boiled. I just wanted to end this madness.

I punched the dumpster denting it, but that didn’t sate my rage. I struck it again and again. Sometime during the episode of rage, claws extended out of my hand and I ripped the metal dumpster like my hands were can openers.

Another guttural cry left my lips sending the dumpster flying across the asphalt behind the store.

My chest heaved up and down as I tried to settle down.

Wait?

What had just happened?

A wave of nausea hit me and I keeled over, vomiting up the lunch Rob made for me.

I wiped my mouth with pale clawed hands.

Claws?

No sooner did I notice them did they retract.

My head spun and I staggered to my feet looking for some place to see my reflection. The only thing in sight was my Fastback driver’s side window.

Falling and vomiting again, I crawled the rest of the way to my car on all fours.

What was happening to me?

Using the Fastback door handle to pull myself up to my knees, I steadied myself as another wave of sickness came and went. This time I kept everything in. That, or I didn’t have anything left to hurl.

Closing my eyes I tried to mentally prepare myself for what I would see in the reflection.

Blood orange orbs burned like collapsed stars looking back at me from sunken eye sockets underlined with black bags. Sickly pale skin hung over a face that was mine, but wasn’t. And my hair. It was white too.

I almost fell again, but my shaking hand held onto the door handle for dear life.

I closed my eyes. “Okay Sean. You’re just seeing things. You’re sick. That vampire bit you…”

But I didn’t like any of the answers I came up with. Either I was super late at turning into a vampire, or the Keening curse had awakened and gone into overdrive. No matter what, something was wrong with me and getting worse. Rapidly.

I opened my eyes again and the normal me stared back. Normal red-orange hair, normal freckled face, normal white skin.

How long had I been standing there?

The foreign power receded, but it still resided within. In fact it burrowed deeper within my subconscious. My chest heaved and I resisted the urge to hyperventilate.

“Okay, Sean. You’ll be okay. Think. Think.”

Another pair of eyes stared back at me behind my reflection on the other side of my Fastback. Tommy crouched on the passenger side of my car. He hadn’t gone into In-N-Out after all. Or maybe he had, but Sensei sent him back to see where I was. There was no way to know how much he witnessed. And there was a chance that he had not witnessed a thing besides me talking to myself. It all could have been in my head.

“I see you Tommy. Trying to scare me huh? Nice try.” I tried to act like everything was normal. “Thought I locked my keys in my car. Turns out I placed them in the wrong pocket.”

My voice sounded hoarse and hurt to use. I needed some tea. I walked around the other side of the car and noticed that Tommy did not want to meet my gaze.

“Sensei Hector sent you out to check on me?”

Tommy nodded, but still wouldn’t look at me.

I patted him on the shoulder. “Well come on. Aren’t you hungry?” I hoped he didn’t feel my arm shaking.

As much as I needed to know if I’d honestly turned into a monster, I didn’t look back at the dumpster.

I was so disturbed by what happened I completely lost my appetite. Even for an In-N-Out cheeseburger.