The Recruit

10. Tests

Oak drove Ash across the CHERUB campus in a golf buggy. They stopped outside a traditional Japanese-style building with a single span roof made of giant sequoia logs. The surrounding area had a combed gravel garden and a pond stuffed with orange fish.

"This building is new," Oak said. "One of our pupils uncovered a fraud involving fake medicine. She saved hundreds of lives and billions of yen for a Japanese drug company. The Japanese thanked us by paying for the new dojo."

"What's a dojo?" Ash asked.

"A training hall for martial arts. It's a Japanese word." Ash and Oak stepped inside. Thirty kids wearing white pyjamas tied with black or brown belts were sparring, twisting one another into painful positions, or getting flipped over and springing effortlessly back up. A stern Japanese lady paced among them, stopping occasionally to scream criticism in a mix of Japanese and English that Ash couldn't understand.

Oak led Ash to a smaller room. Its floor was covered with springy blue matting. A wiry but cocky looking kid was standing at the back doing stretches. He was about the same height, brown chestnut hair, a lot lighter then Leaf, maybe a tiny bit leaner than Ash, in a karate suit with a black belt.

"Take your shoes and socks off, Ash," Oak said. "Have you done martial arts before?"

"I went a couple of times when I was eight," Ash said. "I got bored. It was nothing like what's going on out there. Everyone was rubbish."

"This is Gary," Oak said. "He's going to spar with you." Gary walked over, bowed and shook Ash's hand. Ash felt confident as he squashed Gary's bony little fingers. Gary might know a few fancy moves but Ash reckoned his tactics would suffice in the course for victory.

"Rules," Oak said. "The first to win five submissions is the winner. An opponent can submit by speaking or by tapping his hand on the mat. Either opponent can withdraw from the bout at any time. You can do anything to get a submission except hitting the testicles or eye gouging. Do you both understand?" Both boys nodded. Oak handed Ash a gum shield.

"Stand two metres apart and prepare for the first bout." The boys walked to the centre of the mat.

"I'll bust your nose," Gary said.

Ash smiled. "You can try, dumbass."

"Fight," Oak said. Gary moved so fast Ash didn't see the palm of his hand until it had smashed into his nose. A fine mist of blood sprayed as Ash stumbled backwards. Gary swept Ash's feet away, tipping him on to the mat. Gary turned Ash on to his chest and twisted his wrist into a painful lock. He used his other hand to smear Ash's face in the blood dripping from his nose.

Ash yelled through his gum shield, "I submit."

Gary got off. Ash couldn't believe Gary had half killed him in about five seconds. He wiped his bloody face on the arm of his T-shirt.

"Ready?" Oak asked. Ash's nose was clogged with blood. He gasped for air.

"Hang on, Oak," Gary said. "What hand does Ashy Boi write with?" Ash was grateful for a few seconds' rest but wondered why Gary had asked such a weird question.

"What hand do you write with, Ash?" Oak asked.

"My left," Ash said.

"OK, fight." There was no way Gary was getting the early hit in this time. Ash lunged forward. Trouble was, Gary had gone by the time Ash got there. Ash felt himself being lifted from behind. Gary threw Ash on to his back then sat astride him with his thighs crushing the wind out of him. Ash tried to escape but he couldn't even breathe. Gary grabbed Ash's right hand and twisted his thumb until it made a loud crack.