she was there to support her ten-year-old nephew, Leo, who had just performed his yellow
belt kata. Maya sat with her hands folded in her lap, offering a warm, reassuring smile to
Leo whenever he looked up at her.
Master Vance was concluding his demonstration on the philosophy of dominance and
control. He believed that martial arts was not just about self-defense, but about asserting
willpower over the weak. To illustrate his point, he scanned the crowd, looking for a
volunteer—or rather, a prop.
His eyes landed on Maya. Perhaps it was her quiet demeanor, her lack of affiliation with any
dojo, or simply the fact that she looked completely out of place in the aggressive,
testosterone-fueled environment. Whatever the reason, Vance pointed a rigid finger
directly at her.