CHAPTER 2

  Well, that was a stressful first day. Now to the dojo. Nice way to release stress! They say stress stems from the “fight or flight” instinct. As you can see, my instinct is to fight.

  Dad started training me to fight at age 4. Seriously. Four. And he made me promise to always go to a Shōrin-ryū Karate dojo. Said it’s the only style compatible with what he’s been teaching me. And, what his father taught him, and his father’s father before him, et cetera.

  Dad calls it “The Way.” Part of our family legacy.

  If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  Also, part of a family secret, but I don’t know you well enough to tell you that just yet.

  Being that a lack of modesty is not my only flaw, I won’t delve further except to say, I’m pretty good.

  Actually, I should just say it. Only my Dad and Hanshi (our Grandmaster and a 10th Dan) are better. Hanshi oversees all Shōrin-ryū dojos (in the U.S. and Japan).

  My dojo is kinda cool. There are pictures on the wall of each Grandmaster who led Shōrin-ryū all the way back in time until there’s only names written in Japanese kanji in the picture frames. As in, photography had not been invented yet! Cool, right?

  But, I’m only a Brown Belt until I complete the required hours of training for black belt at my dojo. Started late, you see. Dad started me there only when he started disappearing from our lives.

  One time, I overheard one of the Black Belts say, “I really hate fighting that damn Brown Belt. He’s relentless! Doesn’t give me time to decide my next attack move and I broke a toe on his foot.”

  Made me smile. Wait ‘til I tell you my family secret (because this isn’t it). But, it is related to the Japanese so pay close attention whenever that comes up.