Beware The Water

Need To Tell

The gym air was thick and warm, reeking of sweat leather and disinfectant. Shorter had been training for hours straight, constantly losing track of his time once the world became just him and the bag. Hour long kids classes would go by in an instant then the next would begin and Shorter continued punching.

His fist slammed rhythmically into the heavy bag, booming thuds echoed in the gym. Each strike was controlled and deliberate. He learned to be focused and disciplined instead of allowing wild aggression to control his fists.

Across the gym were a group of young boys, aging between eight and twelve, lingering near the benches, gym bags at their feet as they waited for their parents and guardians to pick them up.

The boys all pretended not to stare. They were terrible at it. Some, when thinking they were caught, became laser focused on a corner in the room, others suddenly dropped their heads to the floor and counted the rings within the planks of shiny wood.

One boy, not so subtly, nudged another and whispered. Their eyes kept flicking back to Shorter- to his purple hair, the scars that they knew held stories, to the way the bag swayed violently after every one of his punches.

"Guys, that's him." One whispered, "The gangster."

"My cousin told me that he used to be King of Chinatown." An older boy added to the growing lore.

"No way."

"Yes way."

An eight year old chimed in, "What does that mean?"

His older brother rolled his eyes, "It means he has an army. Duh!"

"Wow....." the boys were amazed.

To them, Shorter Wong wasn't just some guy.

He was a myth. A name that they had heard before by older boys hanging at the park, and officers who strolled during their rounds. The younger boys then learned the bad habits of their eldest brothers and some cousins who were adopted into the mafia by none other than Shorter Wong. His name was the wind in Chinatown. They expected a scary man like from the movies. One with serpent eyes and high cheekbones, nails that curled into sharp claws. What they saw wasn't that at all. He could have passed for any one of their older brothers.

Shorter noticed them between combinations but remained focused on his own tasks. Their curiosity didn't bother him. If anything it warmed something in his chest that he hadn't felt in a while.

When he was King, everyone looked up to him. Especially the new recruits. Something as simple as him remembering their names, brought each boy such pride. They felt seen. They felt like they belonged. Each of them saw Shorter as their big brother. They knew that they could trust him. And since relinquishing his title as King, that brotherhood had become something that he deeply missed.

Shorter caught the bag with an extended arm and kept it from moving any further. He wiped the sweat from his face and slung the towel over his shoulder. He reached toward his phone to send a quick text and began cleaning his station. When he looked up, that's when he caught eyes with Coach Shibata across the gym.

"Shorter." Shibata called out. "Come here."

Shorter jogged over, respectful and aware of the relationship that had grown between them. Shibata was a positive force in his life. A different kind than Lux, but one that he needed.

Shibata crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe of his office. "You've been putting in a lot of work. You're thinking more instead of reacting. Your footwork is cleaner. Your aim is sharp. Your punches-" he whistled, letting it speak for itself.