Power comes from proper foundation." Michael's jaw clenched, his hands forming fists at his sides. Marcus felt his brother's anger as if it were his own, their twin bond amplifying every emotion. When one of them hurt, both did. When one felt humiliated, the shame doubled.
Time for sparring drills," Sensei Mitchell announced, clapping his hands twice. "Partner up with someone near your skill level." Marcus wiped his sweaty palms on his GI pants and looked around for another yellow belt. But Jake Harrison was already approaching them with that same predatory smile. "Fresh meat," Jake said, his voice pitched for his friend's amusement.
"Let's see what these two can actually do. "We should partner with other yellow belts," Michael said quietly, his usual analytical approach trying to find a way out. "Don't worry," Connor Mills joined them, his black belt a stark contrast to their yellow ones. We'll teach you some real techniques, unless you'd rather go back to whatever you learned on the streets." The casual racism in his tone made Marcus's vision blur with anger.
He started to step forward, but Michael's hand caught his arm. Their twin awareness preventing a confrontation that would only make things worse. "Bow to your partner," Sensei Mitchell instructed from across the room. Marcus found himself facing Connor while Jake positioned himself opposite Michael. The twins exchanged a quick glance, a wordless communication that had served them since childhood.
"Stay calm. Stick together. Survive this." "Light contact only," Sensei Mitchell called out. This is about technique, not power.
The sparring began, and immediately Marcus knew they were in trouble. Connors first kick allegedly pulled at the last second, caught him solidly in the ribs with enough force to drive the air from his lungs. The impact sent him stumbling backward, his inexperienced footwork making recovery impossible. Oops," Connor said with theatrical concern. "Guess these yellow belts are even softer than they look."
On the adjacent mat, Michael was experiencing the same treatment. Jake's light contact punches were landing with precision that spoke of deliberate targeting. When Michael tried to counter with one of the basic combinations they'd learned, Jake easily deflected it and responded with a sweep that sent Michael crashing to the mat. "Stay down there," Jake said. not offering to help. That's where you belong anyway.
Michael pushed himself up, embarrassment and fury warring in his expression. Marcus felt every bit of his brother's humiliation, their connection making the abuse doubly painful. The sparring continued for 10 more brutal minutes. Both twins accumulated bruises while Jake and Connor maintained their facade of instruction, their comments growing bolder as Sensei Mitchell remained conspicuously focused on other students. "Maybe your daddy should have signed you up for basketball instead."
Connor panted after landing another accidental elbow to Marcus's shoulder. "Stick to what your people are good at." "We're not quitting," Marcus said through gritted teeth, tasting blood from a split lip. "We'll see about that," Jake replied, helping Michael up from another hard takedown with unnecessary roughness. "This dojo has standards."