Thelma's approach was purely classical, yet she adapted seamlessly to his hybrid attacks. Again, neither landed a decisive blow, though Hiroshi came close with a spinning back kick that Thelma evaded by a hair's breadth. The spectators watched in awe. This was nothing like the point sparring they were accustomed to. This was combat as art, a dialogue of bodies that spoke of history and inherited pain.
Hiroshi launched a final furious assault, a combination so complex and fast that even Rick, a seasoned competitor, could barely follow it. Yet Thelma not only defended but countered at the perfect moment, slipping inside Hiroshi's guard to touch his chest with an open palm. She could have struck him. Everyone knew it. Instead, she simply made contact, a demonstration of control that was more devastating than any blow.
Hiroshi froze, his attack nullified. For a heartbeat, they remained locked in that position, her palm against his heart. Then he disengaged, bowed stiffly, and left without another word. As the door closed behind him, Thelma let out a long, measured breath. Kenji approached her, concern evident in his lined face.
"That was Kojiro's son. " he confirmed gravely. "He moves like his father, but with more restraint. He found me, Thelma said softly. After all these years? Not by accident, Kenji replied.
This is only the beginning. Later in Rick's office, Kenji explained the situation more fully. Hiroshi was raised to take vengeance for his father's downfall. Kojiro blamed Thelma, not just for defeating his champion, but for exposing his match-fixing operation to the authorities. That was 50 years ago, Rick protested.
Surely the statute of limitations This isn't about legal justice, Thelma interrupted. It's about a blood feud that spans generations. Hiroshi was raised on stories of my betrayal of his father's honor. But you didn't finish him today, Rick observed. You could have.
Violence begets violence, Thelma said simply. I learned that lesson too late once before. I won't make the same mistake again. The next morning, Erica arrived early to find the lock on her office door jimmied open. Inside, she discovered that Thelma's registration forms had been removed from the file cabinet and her name deleted from the dojo management software.
Problem solved, she muttered, carefully re-locking the cabinet. Nothing connects her to us officially now. She didn't notice Rick watching from the doorway until he cleared his throat. What are you doing, Erica? She jumped, then composed herself.
Damage control. If she's not officially registered here, we can distance ourselves from whatever vendetta she's involved in. Rick's expression hardened. So, your solution is to erase her after she brought more positive attention to this dojo than we've had in years. My solution is to protect our business, Erica snapped.