It had been one full year since my epic martial arts duel against Tyler Hauer: co-owner and head instructor of DOJO Karate in Eden Prairie, and the only man who has ever bested me in combat.
Until then, my hulking physique and finely honed reflexes had proven insuperable to every opponent who once stood in my path. But my first taste of defeat was sobering. It made me realize that I would never ascend to greater heights without better technique.
Thus did I travel the world mastering as many new martial arts as I could. I studied Muay Lao on the peak of Phou Bia under the tutelage of the great Ajarn Inthavong. I learned Bartitsu in the Roman ruins beneath London from the sole heir to E.W. Barton-Wright’s original technique. I even went to Apple Valley, where I learned the tiger, leopard, and snake styles of Shaolin kung fu for free at the zoo.
And then – as fortune would have it – I learned that an enigmatic international supercriminal was hosting an underground martial arts tournament on the remote Japanese island of Aogashima. Two elite CIA operatives told me all about it after tracking me down at my favorite bar.
“We want you to enter this tournament as a front for your real objective,” said one agent.
“Which is?” I asked, coolly.
“Take a photo of the shadowy kingpin while he’s doing something embarrassing…”
He paused to look me dead in the eyes.
“...and then post it on Facebook, where all his friends will see.”
I waved them away without so much as glancing in their direction. “Forget that,” I sneered. “I ain’t nobody’s puppet – least of all yours. And besides, I got magazine articles to write.”
“You hear that, Mr. Doe? Sounds like we didn’t pique his interest,” said the one agent to the other.
“Sure seems that way, Mr. Cardholder,” said the other. “But you know what? I might just have something here that’ll help change his mind.”
The stolid, featureless man slid a manilla envelope across the bar counter. “We’ll be seeing you,” he whispered. He and his consort then made their way silently out the door, where they quickly dissolved into the nighttime.
“Hmph,” I muttered under my breath. “What could the U.S. government possibly have to offer that I, a regional magazine publication director, don’t already have?” I took a big anticipatory sip of my chocolate milk while I opened the envelope, only to spit it all out when I discovered its contents.
A Post-it note, with a date, time, and geographical coordinates written on it…
…and a photo…
…of Tyler Hauer.
FLASH FORWARD
The frenetic voice of the tournament’s announcer scarcely overcame the din of the crowd.
“It is the FINAL BOUT of the Aogashima Annihilation Tournament!” the electric voice thundered. “Each of the world’s two mightiest martial artists has defeated every challenger between himself and this very moment. An unstoppable force meets an equally unstoppable force! The grand showdown between Tyler Hauer of DOJO Karate … and David Scheller, of Eden Prairie Lifestyle! The fight of the millennium begins … NOW!”
If the crowd roared before, it now screamed as though someone had poured mice down its collective pants. I eyed Tyler from across the arena. He stood proud. Defiant. Like his seven previous opponents that day hadn’t registered as much more than a light warmup.
I could tell right away that I’d have to resort to psychological tactics. I employed my ultra-super-secret technique that I’d learned from making phone calls: casual conversation style.
“So … Tyler,” I spoke as I subtly angled myself into the ideal position from which to throw a flaming fist punch. “It’s been a year since we last spoke. How have things been going at DOJO Karate?”
“They’ve been amazing!” Tyler answered cheerfully. “We recently celebrated a huge milestone when we promoted our first-ever brown belts. A big feat for a dojo that has only been in business for two and a half years! I can’t wait to continue helping them master the steps, forms, and sparring they’ll need in order to advance to black belt.”
Just a little longer, I thought. “Wow!” I replied. “Earning a black belt sure must take a lot of hard work.”
“Oh, definitely,” Tyler answered before dodging my flaming fist punch and then launching me 15 feet across the arena with a lightning-swift mae geri. He continued: “You’d be amazed by the physical improvements our students undergo. Especially in this day and age when so many children are on their iPads too much, it’s great to provide an encouraging yet rigorous setting where they can develop strength, agility, and coordination while making new friends!”
My insides were badly rattled, but I managed to get back on my feet with considerable effort. “I see,” I said as I began making virtually invisible motions that would subconsciously compel Tyler into opening himself up to a cyclone wheel kick. “So those kids must fight pretty good, huh?”
“Without question,” he answered. “Although, to be sure, our students don’t begin sparring until they’ve earned their green belts. They have to learn the basics first, as well as demonstrate their understanding that fighting is strictly for self-defense. ‘Might for right.’ That’s the axiom we all say at the beginning and end of each class. It reminds us that power is a gift, and must only be wielded for good reasons. But you know what? At the end of the day, karate’s not about fighting–”
At that instant, Tyler executed a perfect age-uke, repelling my cyclone wheel kick as though he’d read a letter warning him about it a week prior. He countered with a choku-zuki that sent me spiraling through the air.
“–it’s about confidence,” he continued. “That’s the biggest change I see in our students, who learn that discipline, respect, and self-improvement are three of the greatest virtues one can have in life. They see that they don’t have to be perfect. All that truly matters is that they try!”
My muscles burned. My bones creaked. Every nerve ending in my body felt like it had been dipped in strong acid. Even so, I managed to rise. I needed to buy a little more time before I could focus my last remaining reserve of strength into one final all-out attack. I wheezed: “Heh … yeah … (huff … huff) … so … you must have seen a lot of great kids come a really long way, then … right?”
“Totally!” Tyler answered brightly. Good, I thought to myself. I see I’ve touched on one of his favorite subjects. “For example, we have this one awesome 11-year-old, who I won’t refer to by name in front of all the people watching this martial arts tournament. This guy was super introverted the first time he came in. I soon learned he had been born with a physical disability that makes it hard for him to play sports, and for which he had been bullied a lot. But by his fourth class, he was completely into karate. Glued to every instruction. Even practicing at home! He’d bring in his iPad not to play games, but so he could show me the forms he’d been practicing in his free time. I’m proud to say he’s now one of those brown belts I first mentioned. It’s unreal how sure of himself he has become!”
I still wasn’t ready to unleash my ultra-super-duper-secret technique. I had to stall Tyler just a moment longer. “It seems like karate really brings kids out of their shells, then, huh?”
“Every single time,” Tyler replied. “We have another great student – a cheery little girl whose homeschooling had left her unsure of how to behave around kids her own age. She was also a bit standoffish at first, but it wasn’t long until she started making real meaningful connections with her peers. She’s even started helping out in some of our classes! She has also gotten a lot more coordinated. She could barely balance on one foot for five seconds when she first joined us, but now she’s executing pretty complicated sequences of movements with surprising fluidity. With outright gracefulness, really!”
NOW. I tilted into a dead sprint toward Tyler, leapt eight feet into the air until I was right above his head, and then shot straight down like a bolt of lightning. “AIR-RENDING MOON-BENDING BONE-CRUNCHING DRAGON SHOT!” I screamed at the top of my lungs as I plunged with the force of a thousand very powerful somethings.
But I never felt Tyler beneath me. I landed on the ground where he had just previously stood in utter befuddlement.
I felt a light tap on my shoulder. Stunned, I turned to behold Tyler, who then appeared before me like a deva carved into a mountainside set alight by fire of otherworldly origin. I could only look on in awe as I watched him unleash a shutō-uchi capable of crushing solid iron into powder.
I closed my eyes and waited for the blow that would end my magazine writing career once and for all. But it didn’t come. Instead, I felt a gentle pat on the cheek.
“Karate instruction isn’t about dragging people up,” Tyler shouted to me over the deafening cheers of the crowd. “It’s about cultivating a community; a place where students support one another and have each other’s backs. It doesn’t matter how much of an uphill battle awaits you. You’ll find your people at DOJO Karate.”
My eyes filled with tears at the beauty of Tyler’s words, as well as all the immense pain he had inflicted on me. “Please … tell me how…” I entreated as I dropped to my knees in reverence.
“That’s easy!” he chimed. “Just drop by 7916 Mitchell Road Monday through Saturday to see what we’re all about, or visit DOJOKarate.com to check out our martial programs for preschoolers all the way up to adults. We also offer fitness kickboxing, and provide the perfect venue and activities for kids’ birthday parties!”
And that’s exactly what I will do – as soon as the CIA stops looking for me for not doing that thing I had promised them I’d do.