"Apparently the maintenance guy is coaching now."
At first, the comments were harmless.
Some members joked that Arthur had more patience than the professional coaches.
Others said Owen looked better than he had the week before.
One member wrote:
Maybe the old guy knows what he's doing.
Then Blake commented.
"He doesn't know anything. He's just copying movements."
Someone replied:
Have you watched him move?
Blake answered:
"He's a janitor. Let's not pretend."
The discussion might have ended there.
But Blake added another comment.
"If he's so good, he should get on the mat instead of hiding behind a mop."
The comment spread quickly.
By the following morning, several members had seen it.
Marcus discovered the post while drinking coffee in the coaches' office.
He read it twice.
Then he closed his phone.
"Unbelievable," he muttered.
Diego, sitting across from him, looked up.
"What?"
Marcus showed him the screen.
Diego read the comment.
He shook his head.
"Blake again."
Marcus stood.
"I'm talking to him."
Diego leaned back.
"Don't let him drag you into a public argument."
"I'm not."
"Then don't make it one."
Marcus looked toward the training floor.
Arthur was already there.
He was checking the condition of the cage padding.
Marcus walked over.
"Have you seen the video?"
Arthur looked up.
"No."
Marcus showed him the screen.
Arthur read the comments.
His expression did not change.
"People have too much time."
"Blake is trying to provoke you."
"I know."
"He's challenging you."
Arthur handed the phone back.
"Then he should challenge someone who wants to fight."
Marcus lowered the phone.
"He's embarrassing the academy."
Arthur returned to the padding.
"That's your problem."
Marcus almost smiled.
"You're not going to help me?"
"You're the coach."
"Fair enough."
Marcus watched him work.
Then he asked:
"Would you ever step onto the mat again?"
Arthur stopped.
The question had been asked before.
But this time, something about it felt different.
"Why?"
"Because I think you could help people."
Arthur looked at him.
"I already help people."
"Not in the way I mean."
Arthur pressed the padding into place.
"I know what you mean."
Marcus waited.
Arthur said nothing more.
Blake arrived just before ten.
He walked into the academy with two friends, both members of the advanced striking group.
They were laughing about something on their phones.
When Blake saw Marcus, he approached.
"Coach."
Marcus looked at him.
"We need to talk."
"About what?"
"Your comments."
Blake shrugged.
"Just joking."
"It wasn't funny."
"People laughed."
"That doesn't make it acceptable."
Blake glanced toward Arthur.
The maintenance worker was replacing a damaged section of floor tape.
Blake raised his voice.
"Hey, Arthur."
Arthur did not look up.
"Yes?"
"Come here."
Arthur continued working.
"Give me a moment."
Blake laughed.
"See? That's what I'm talking about."
Marcus stepped forward.
"Leave him alone."
Blake turned.
"Why? I'm just asking him a question."
"Then ask it respectfully."
Blake looked around.
Several members had begun watching.
He smiled.
"Fine."
He raised his voice.
"Arthur, you seem to know a lot about fighting. Why don't you show us?"
Arthur finished pressing down the tape.
Then he stood.
"What do you want to see?"
Blake spread his arms.
"Anything."
Marcus stepped between them.
"That's enough."
Blake looked at him.
"Why? Are you afraid?"
Marcus's expression hardened.
"You're not going to turn the gym into a circus."
Blake laughed.
"Nobody's asking for a circus."
He pointed toward Arthur.
"I'm asking whether the man who keeps correcting everybody can actually fight."
Arthur looked at Blake.
Then he looked at Marcus.
"Does he have a reason for this?"
Marcus shook his head.
"No."
Arthur nodded.
"Then no."
Blake's smile disappeared.
"What?"
"No."
"That's it?"
"Yes."
Blake stepped closer.
"You're scared."
Arthur's face remained calm.
"Maybe."
The answer confused Blake.
He had expected an argument.
A denial.
A defensive explanation.
Instead, Arthur had simply accepted the insult.
Blake laughed.
"At least you're honest."
Arthur picked up his cleaning cloth.
"Have a good morning."
He turned away.
Blake watched him leave.
His friends exchanged glances.
One of them whispered:
"That was awkward."
Blake heard him.
He turned sharply.
"What's awkward?"
"Nothing."
Blake walked toward the boxing area.
But his frustration had deepened.
He had wanted Arthur to react.
He had wanted to expose him.
Instead, Arthur had made the entire exchange feel childish.
The next incident happened during the advanced training session.
Marcus had assigned Blake to work with Diego.
The drill focused on controlled combinations followed by defensive movement.
Blake began well.
He threw a jab, followed with a cross, and moved away.
Diego nodded.
"Good. Again."
Blake repeated the combination.
This time, he stepped too far forward.
Diego adjusted his position.
Blake's right hand dropped.
Diego touched his shoulder with a light counter.
"Hands up."