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- “Yes,” he said. “I can live with this.”
- With greater and greater speed, Art began his kata, the practice routine which limbered him up and fixed the sequences of moves in his mind. He leapt and whirled, blocking invisible opponents, attacked, retreated, all in time to his inner senses. Art felt the strength and sureness flow through him. Higher and higher he jumped, spinning faster and faster.
- “Hey, look at the dojo ballerina,” he heard a man’s voice from somewhere outside of his personal space.
- “Sure dances pretty,” said another voice. “Think he can fight?”
- “What, and mess up that cute little face?” said another. “Don’t reckon he’s got the guts to fight. Not against real men.”
- Art landed on his feet, legs together. Not allowing the voices from outside the ring to disturb the serenity which the kata had given him, he bowed to his imaginary opponent, then relaxed and opened his eyes.
- “Think he can hear us?” one of the voices from outside said.
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