He approached Samuel, trying to sound casual, and asked how long they were going to be doing beginner drills. Samuel did not look up from his clipboard at first, and when he answered, his voice was even and final. They would do beginner drills until the beginners understood what they were doing. Marcus laughed a little and said that was going to take all morning, and Samuel replied, without any change in tone, that he hoped Marcus had cleared his schedule. Marcus felt the warning and pretended not to notice. He told Samuel that people had come to watch something exciting and that they should be given a proper demonstration, and Samuel answered that they had a schedule. Marcus said that he was on it, and Samuel confirmed that his name was on the schedule for a controlled grappling demonstration with another experienced student. Marcus asked who, and Samuel said, simply, Daniel Price.
Daniel was a disciplined brown belt who had competed against Marcus twice, and both matches had ended in Marcus's favor, although neither had been easy. Marcus said that Daniel had pulled out, and Samuel corrected him without hesitation. Daniel had not pulled out. Marcus said Daniel would pull out when reminded what had happened last time. Samuel looked at him directly and said his name once, in the way a coach says a name when he does not intend to repeat himself. Marcus asked what, as if he had missed something, and Samuel told him to leave Daniel alone. Marcus said fine, that he would find somebody else, and he turned away before Samuel could add anything more, carrying the bottle in one hand and the irritation in his chest like a second, invisible weight.
The beginner drills began soon afterward, and Marcus found himself watching them with a restlessness he could not quite hide. On the far mat, an instructor repeated a basic movement slowly for a line of white belts, and Marcus felt his muscles twitch with the desire to complete it at full speed. He watched a young student fumble a grip, reset, fumble again, and then laugh nervously, and he felt a flash of impatience that surprised him with its sharpness. He was wasting a Saturday morning that could have been spent sharpening his own game. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, rolled his shoulders, and took another drink of water, telling himself that patience was part of being a senior student, while privately counting the minutes until the drills gave way to something that resembled real grappling. Around him, parents applauded a small, successful repetition, and Samuel moved between groups, never rushing a student who was still thinking. He told himself the morning would pass quickly enough, yet every slow repetition seemed to stretch the minutes longer, and his attention kept drifting toward the center mat.
As the morning wore on, his impatience hardened into a restless search. He moved around the edges of the mats, scanning the experienced students for someone free and willing enough to make a demonstration feel real. The brown belts helping beginners were occupied, and interrupting them seemed a poor choice while Samuel was watching. His usual training partners were running warm-ups, staffing the table, or already paired off. Daniel Price was somewhere in the building, Marcus knew, but Samuel's instruction still echoed in his ears, and even Marcus understood that going directly against it in front of parents and visitors would be noticed. He kept moving, rehearsing a fast, decisive exchange that would make the crowd lean forward.
That want revealed the two behaviors that governed his life in the gym. Against a genuine challenge, he became obsessed with winning, narrowing his attention to grips, angles, and the next advantage. Against someone less experienced, he became obsessed with proving that person beneath him, turning the exchange into a lesson in hierarchy. Both came from his belief that his worth was measured by his distance from the person across from him. Marcus thought only about the crowd, the photographs, and the belt in his bag. He took one more lap around the mats, still looking for someone to give him the demonstration he wanted.
Near the water station, a nineteen-year-old student named Ethan Cole was adjusting his white belt.