Black Belt in Martial Hearts

© 2024 by the author using the pen name UpperNorthLeft.

This story was submitted for the YAY TEAM 2024 event.

All sexual activity is between adults 18 years of age or older.

Many thanks to Jalibar62 for casting his keen editorial eye on this story, for spotting grammatical faux pas, and for making numerous other suggestions that improved the story greatly. Any remaining errata and mental lapses are all mine.

* * *

A four-foot hardwood staff went whistling by my head, and my sedate Saturday morning suddenly got a lot more interesting. The staff missed my skull, but not by much. It brushed the hair on my head in passing, and my hair is pretty short.

I turned and automatically brought my own staff up into a guard position to block any subsequent strikes.

However, my attacker stared at me in horror, and said, "Oh my God! I'm so sorry!"

We were fellow students at the Sakura aikido dojo in Seattle's Green Lake area. We had been separately practicing the strikes, parries, whirls and thrusts of a 31-count kata with the jo -- the Japanese short staff. When you do the jo kata slowly it is almost a meditation. At full speed, you become a whirling wall of fast-moving wood, and any sensible person will stay way the hell away from you, even if they're armed with an Uzi.

If you're not an oblivious asshole, you try really hard to keep your own personal whirling wall of wood from whacking your pals. The woman next to me was clearly aghast at having nearly split my skull. I decided to take the high road, and smiled. "No blood, no foul."

"But I almost hit you! I should have been paying more attention."

"It's okay. I know you'll be more careful next time." I paused. "However, if you really feel that bad, then buy me a cup of coffee after practice."

She gave me a pained smile. "Okay, it's the least I can do."

We resumed our jo katas -- this time with a lot more space between us. No further mishaps occurred.

After practice, I changed out of my gi, took a shower, and waited for her in the front of the dojo. Huh -- I had a date for coffee with the Ice Queen.

* * *

I earned several computer science degrees from Texas A & M, and then moved to Seattle three years ago to become a software engineer. After baking in the summer sun of Texas for most of my life, life in the cool mists of the Pacific Northwest suited me just fine. Several years here among the neutral speech patterns of the Upper North Left had morphed my Texas drawl into what my Aunt Alice in Austin referred to as "Aidan's Yankee clip". I love her dearly, but it tickles me no end to imagine how shocked she would be to hear words coming out of the mouths of true Yankees from New Hampshah or Lawn Gyland. But I digress.

One does not live by code alone. After buying a cool house in the Green Lake area and a Subaru Outback, I needed a social group. I had a few friends at work and met a few more going on hikes organized by the local REI mother ship store. However, some of my best friends were folks I had met at the Sakura aikido dojo, which is located just north of Green Lake. I had discovered the dojo while walking home one evening. I was entranced by the whirl and flow of bodies on the mat, and how they tumbled gracefully in a swirl of black and white uniforms. After a newcomer's workshop, I was hooked.

I'd been practicing aikido for about three years, and no one had ever attacked me on the mean streets of Seattle. However, aikido gave me confidence and a sense of community. I had just earned the rank of 1st kyu, which would be equivalent to a brown belt in other dojos. The next step up the aikido food chain for me would be shodan -- a first degree black belt. Making the final leap to black requires a huge amount of work. I had to learn a zillion new techniques, and also polish the ones I already knew. This goal brought me to the dojo several times during the week, and at least once on the weekend.

* * *

Not long after I became first kyu, the Ice Queen joined our dojo. As we knelt in seiza position on the mat, waiting for Sally Sensei to begin our practice, Bill -- one of my dojo mates -- leaned over and whispered "Hey, check out the hot chick in the hakama."

Hakama are the baggy, black samurai pants worn by our black belts. The woman he indicated was kneeling two rows in front of us and I couldn't tell much about her, other than that she was slender, and wore her straight, dark hair in a ponytail.

Sally Sensei knelt in front of the class and led us in our bowing-in ceremony. She then said, "Nyssa just moved here from Houston and is joining our dojo. Please make her welcome here at Sakura."

We spent the rest of the class practicing various throws and joint locks. We shifted among partners, and I ended up with Nyssa several times. Now that we were standing, I could see that she was about two inches shorter than my middle height. The first time we paired, I bowed and said, "I'm Mac. Welcome to the dojo."

She bowed without speaking, and we took turns throwing each other around on the mat. Throughout the practice, she didn't smile or talk, and her aikido technique was flawless. I was familiar with all the throws and pins we practiced together, but mine seemed clunky and crude compared to her precise and graceful moves.

One of the first things you learn in aikido is how to fall. At first, you fall with a lot of crashes and crunches and it hurts. With practice though, you slowly polish the rough edges off your technique, and your falls begin to flow into graceful rolls. The pain eventually goes away, and you actually look forward to falling. Your falls also start making a lot less noise, and become swooshes rather than splats. Nyssa's rolls were whispers, and made my own rolls sound like a threshing machine by comparison.

* * *

So it went for the next few months. Nyssa came to several evening classes per week. She was polite, but rarely spoke to anyone other than Sally Sensei. She never smiled, and one of the other men in our dojo dubbed her "the Ice Queen". That nickname initially caught on among our aikidoka, but its usage stopped dramatically after the first time Sally Sensei heard it used.

The word "aikido" is often translated as "the way of the harmonious spirit". Sally Sensei is an exemplar of such a spirit. She is one of the merriest people I have ever met, and joyfully shares her mastery of the art with every one of her students. We all adore her and would do anything to make her proud of us.

Having said that, you can imagine how we feel during the very few times that she gets truly pissed off. The sunshine goes behind a cloud and the joy is temporarily gone. You feel like you have shamed your parents, your grandparents, and all of your future children and grandchildren. So when Sally Sensei said, "'Ice Princess.' What a mean thing to say," the light went out of her eyes, we all felt like the mutant scum that festers on the bottom of the deepest, darkest septic tanks.

The rest of that practice was a joyless motherfucker of an hour. We all went home depressed, and I had trouble sleeping.

The next day in the dojo, the sunlight was back in Sally Sensei's eyes, and I suspect that we all silently vowed to never, ever disappoint her like that again. I know that I did.

However, as much as we all now deplored the term "Ice Queen", I couldn't help feeling that the phrase contained a tiny grain of truth. Something about her indeed seemed frozen, and I had no idea what that might be.

Nyssa's technique continued to be precise and elegant, and Sensei frequently called on her to help demonstrate new techniques.

* * *

Nyssa had been at our dojo for about four months when her jo came whistling by my skull and launched us both into a completely different trajectory in our relationship. After that fateful practice ended, we walked to one of the many coffee shops that ring around Green Lake.

Seattle is blessed with the nicest summers on earth -- long, endless days in which it might get up to 80° F on a scorcher. Our official summers are then often followed by a brief "second summer" in September or October. Seattle dwellers love their second summers like hobbits love their second breakfasts. Our caffeination trek took place on just such a lovely October day.

At that point, all I knew about Nyssa was her first name and the quality of her aikido. It was time to learn something new, and I decided to start with the basics. "We haven't been formally introduced. I'm Aidan McBride -- Mac to my friends."

"Nyssa Anderson -- Nyss to my friends... what there are of them."

"Could I be one of those?"

She pondered for a bit, and said, "Okay."

"And what do you do when you're not flinging me around the dojo, Nyss?"

"I'm a pediatrician -- just started my first year of residency over at U Dub and Seattle Children's."

"Do you like working with children?"

"Yeah, kids are great. With them, you don't have to deal with a lot of the chronic and degenerative diseases of adult medicine. When kids do get sick, they usually heal a lot faster than grown-ups."

"How many years do you have to train to be a pediatrician?"

"Three years after internship. So, I've got two more years to go after this one."

"What will you do then?"

"I'm not sure. Probably a year of fellowship training in some subspecialty."

I nodded, and we walked along in silence for a block. Finally, she asked, "So what do you do when I'm not flinging you around the dojo?" Did I see just a hint of a smile?

"I'm a doctor too."

She arched her eyebrow. "Oh? What specialty?"

"My doctorate is in computer science. I write code and bang bits about. They also pay me modest bags of money to design AI systems." I paused for a moment. "How long have you been studying aikido?"

"About six or seven years. I started going when I was an undergrad at Rice. After that, I continued training all during med school at UT Houston. I got my shodan right before my internship started at Texas Children's."

I nodded. "I got my degrees at A & M, just 90 minutes up the road from you."

She quirked her lip. "An Aggie, huh?"

"Yep. Gig 'em."

She snorted. "Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, an Aggie walks into mine."

"Hey, I moved here three years before you did. Technically you walked into my gin joint."

"A fair point. So that makes us two Texas refugees seeking sanctuary in the Pacific Northwest."

"Yup. How did you like your first summer here?"

"Let's see -- 70° F most of the time and no humidity? After Houston? It's like heaven."

We arrived at the coffee shop, where she paid for the ridiculously complex mixture of almond milk, syrups, shots, drizzles and sprinkles that I ordered. She rolled her eyes, and ordered an americano. "Geeze, I've never heard such a foofy drink order before. Are all Aggies such pussies?"

I affected a hurt expression, and said, "The slander I must endure in order to quaff the Nectar of the Gods."

She made a retching noise and said, "I'm starting to wish that my jo actually had connected with your skull. Then I wouldn't have to watch you slurp down that Crime Against Coffee in your hand."

We ambled back to the dojo, each sipping our antipodean ideas of ideal coffee.

As we neared the dojo, I said, "Before today, I've probably heard you say three words total. How come you're such a blabbermouth today?"

She gave me a sardonic smile. "Not the Ice Queen you were expecting, huh?"

I blushed. "Umm... no. Uhh... Care to explain the change?"

"Nope. That's a story for another time."

"Going to remain a woman of mystery in the dojo?"

"Yes, if you don't mind."

"Okey doke. I won't out you as an actual human being. But I did enjoy the walk and the coffee. Can we do this again?"

"Maybe." She quirked a half smile for a second, then got in her car and drove away.

* * *

That day set the trend for the next two months. We'd practice aikido without a word other than a brief "onegai shimasu" (please do me this favor) when we were paired up to practice a technique. Then we'd go out for a walk. Sometimes we'd only get coffee. Other times we'd walk all the way around Green Lake. Occasionally we'd grab some food. Mostly we'd talk. Once in a great while I could even make her laugh.

However, she maintained a certain reserve. Whenever I asked personal questions or suggested getting together in other ways, she'd change the subject.

* * *

That changed in December. As I walked to practice one day, I spotted Nyssa's car parked a block from the dojo. Inside I saw her slumped over the steering wheel, sobbing quietly. I walked up to the passenger-side and pulled the front door open.

She sat up abruptly and said, "Go away."

I got in and sat down in the passenger seat.

She said, "Go away!" This time a bit louder.

I shook my head and sat there.

"I mean it! Get the fuck out of my car!"

"Nope. Not going to do that."

She slumped against the wheel and began to sob again. I let her cry for a while, and then said, "Would a hug help?"

"Fuck off!"

"Nope."

She grimaced, "Why can't you just..." I slowly reached my arms out toward her. She took in another breath, and then let it out. Then she leaned slightly toward me. I put my arms around her and pulled her to my chest. As I held her, she began to cry again. She cried for several more minutes with a series of gasping sobs, which eventually tapered down to whimpers. I kept holding her and murmured the usual things one utters to a crying friend.

Finally, she pulled back and groped in her pocket for some tissues. She wiped her face and blew her nose. "I suppose you're wondering what this is all about?"

I said, "If you want to talk about it."

"Not really."

I started to say something, but stopped.

"What?" she said. I shook my head. "C'mon, what were you going to say? Some goddamn platitude like 'grief shared is grief halved'?"

"Umm... Maybe...?"

"Oh, for fucks sake! I'll tell you." She let out a long sigh. "One of my patients died this morning."

"Oh my..."

"A twelve-year-old girl. Leukemia. After a year of misery and pain and needles and chemotherapy, she slipped away this morning. I was there with her parents and siblings when she passed."

I was speechless.

"I've been on her care team for the past month and got to know her. She was so smart, and so brave, and it's so fucking unfair!"

She leaned back into me and wept some more, then said, "Just when they needed me the most -- I lost it! I started crying and ran out of the room. I don't think I can do this job."

I managed to choke out, "I think you're exactly the kind of doctor she needed," and then my own sobs began.

She quickly switched gears and started holding me. When I finally ran out of steam, she looked puzzled, "What was all that about?"

"I flashed back to my cousin Lizzie. She died of leukemia when she was eighteen. We were really close -- more like siblings." I took a few deep, slow breaths. "Her last year was pretty much like what you described: needles, pain, exhaustion... Her doctors were competent, but not very personable. A little more compassion and even a few tears from her doctors would have helped make that whole process a lot more humane for her."

She looked skeptical, so I said, "It must be hard working around death and dying. I imagine that you doctors and nurses learn to somehow insulate yourselves from all the misery and suffering. But every so often, one of Lizzie's nurses or doctors would drop their shields, and relate to her as a person, rather than as a patient. That let her know that they were also scared and uncertain -- and human, which gave her a lot of comfort."

I blew my nose, and said, "So don't quit medicine. Your tears don't mean that you're weak -- they mean that you've aced the goddamn exam. Okay?"

She sniffled, and in a small voice said, "Okay." She paused, for a moment and sighed. "Thanks for what you said. I'm going to skip practice today, but I'll see you next time." She gave me one more hug, and then I got out of the car and watched her drive away.

* * *

After practice, I asked Sally Sensei for a word in her office. When we were alone, I said, "I'm a little worried about Nyssa."

Sally nodded. "Her work's getting her down again?" When I raised my eyebrows, she said, "We talk sometimes. I know that her oncology rotation has been pretty rough on her."

My face must have given me away. She looked at me closely, and said, "Did that little girl die?"

I nodded. "Yeah, and Nyssa's pretty devastated. I don't think she has any friends here outside the dojo. She was talking about getting out of medicine."

Sally thought for a moment, and then said, "I've got an idea." She shooed me out of her office, but said, "I'll keep you posted."

* * *

The next day I got a cryptic text from Sally Sensei:

> Dojo. Saturday 9 am. Be there.

In our dojo, mere suggestions from Sensei are treated like commands. Actual commands are treated as inevitabilities. I got there just as Nyssa walked in. Sensei nodded at us. "Get your gi on. On the mat at 9:30."

By the time we got to the mat, Sally was kneeling in seiza, facing six little kids. Each kid was bundled up in a tiny gi, tied with a bright yellow belt. Nyssa and I knelt along the side of the mat.

Sally bowed to the kids, who bowed back to her. Then she said, "When I clap my hands, attack me!"

She stood up, clapped her hands, and then skipped about the mat, chased by a ravening horde of children. From time to time, she would lift up one of the kids and then gently lay them back down on the ground in a mock throw. Then she would scamper away, followed anew by the Wild Hunt. Eventually she let them catch her and pull her down, a chiaroscuro Gulliver trapped on the mat by giggling Lilliputians.

Nyssa and I watched this, her eyes wide as saucers. Her eyes got wider still when Sally clapped her hands again and said, "Now, attack her!"

Nyssa had just enough time to leap to her feet and dodge the first wave of marauders. Then she was off to the races, dodging and weaving. She lifted the kids up in mock throws similar to Sensei's. Then she added an innovation of her own. She hitched up her hakama with her hands, and swished it around like a matador's cape, goading each tiny bull to come and charge her. She would then step aside at the last second and let them go flying past her, as she swept her hakama around in a credible verónica.

Up to this point, I had seen occasional grins and chuckles from Nyssa. But I had never before seen her with a blinding smile like the one she now wore. I had never seen her giggle before. Eventually she allowed the mass of gi-clad berserkers to pull her down into a quivering puppy-scrum on the mat. Seeing a joyous Nyssa covered with giggling children was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, and my heart sang.

When Sensei clapped her hands, the gang of tiny bushwhackers gave Nyssa sloppy hugs, and then ran off to their parents, yelling variations on, "Mommy! Daddy! Did you see what we did?"

Nyssa gave me and Sensei a mock-severe glare, and said, "You two are pretty proud of yourselves, aren't you?"

Sheer serenity shone from Sally, and she said, "Doctor McBride and I felt you could use a dose of perspective. I decided that an introductory class for three-year-old kids was just the sunshine enema that you needed. Do you agree with our prescription?"