On his way home that night, Noah couldn't shake the excitement. He could finally learn to defend himself.
At the same time, nagging questions ran through his head: should he tell his mom? Wouldn't it be proper to ask for permission? Would she be angrier later if he hid it now?
When he opened the door, the house smelled like his mother's cooking once again.
"Mom, I'm home," he called.
She stopped cooking and hugged him, then froze when she saw the cut on his cheek. "Son! What happened? Why do you have a big cut on your cheek?"
Riding the adrenaline, he had almost forgotten about the wound. "O-oh, mom, I uh-"
She did not wait for an excuse. She grabbed a cloth, wiped the blood from his face, and pulled him to the medicine cabinet. "This is going to sting," she warned, soaking a cotton pad with rubbing alcohol and pressing it to his skin. Noah hissed as the burn shot through him. She held it for a moment, then swapped in clean gauze and taped it down, stepping back to check her work.
She sighed and looked up. "Noah, how did you get this?"
He scrambled for an explanation. If he said he was being bullied, she would make the school a battleground he did not want. "U-uh, well, you see, during basketball-"
"Liar," she cut in. "Don't lie to me. I can tell when you're lying, your eye twitches. You got into a fight, didn't you? What did I say?"
He ground his teeth. "N-no, mom, I didn't. I promise."
She waited, disbelief written on her face. He tried again. "I told you, I promise! I didn't get in a fight, truly!"
He thought, this might be the perfect moment to find an excuse to take boxing.
She scoffed and turned back toward the stove. He pushed once more. "B-but... mom?"
Not facing him, she snapped, "What?"
"W-well... you see, I've been getting b-bullied lately..."
She stopped in mid-step. Slowly she turned, the sharpness in her face softening into fear and something like helplessness. "Bullied?" Her voice dropped, and Noah felt his stomach knot.
He nodded, avoiding her eyes. "Y-yeah. For a while now."
Her hands clenched. "And you didn't tell me? Noah, do you know how dangerous-" She cut herself off and took a breath. "Who is it? Give me their names and I'll report them to the school."
Panic spiked. Exactly what he'd feared. "No, Mom, please—don't go to the school. Don't make this bigger than it has to be. I don't want trouble, especially with my grades so close to failing."
She stepped toward him and read his face like a map. "Worse? Noah, it's already bad. You're coming home with bruises and scrapes every other day, now this cut. What if next time they-" She bit off the rest, the memory of what happened to his father visible in her pause.
"I know," he said softly. "But... I think I can handle it. I met someone today. Someone who—" He chose his words carefully, testing the water, "—offered to teach me how to defend myself."
Her eyes narrowed. "Defend yourself? Or fight?"
"Defend myself," he said, trying to sound firm. A small part of him felt the truth was messier. "I wouldn't go looking for trouble. But maybe if I could stand up for myself, this wouldn't happen anymore. Maybe I'd be more confident."
She was silent for a long moment, weighing the danger against his need. Finally she exhaled and shook her head. "We'll talk about it at dinner. Go get cleaned up, Noah."
At the table, they made some rules. If he learned boxing, he would never go looking for a fight, join one, or spar. He could practice movements, dodging, and one-sided counterattacks, but no fighting. He had to tell her anytime he was bullied again. And if he came home battered one more time, she would report it.
That night, Noah could not sleep. The next day passed without incident. He was glad the three were not following him anymore.
When the agreed time came, he waited at the shed and Soo Jang appeared. Soo grinned. "Oh, you really came? Fantastic!"
Noah nodded. "Yes. I'm ready to learn."
Soo rubbed his chin. "Is this what you call being nonchalant?" he teased.
Noah gave a blank, annoyed look. "What are you even talking about, you old man?"
Soo's smile flickered into mock offense as he pointed at Noah. "What are you talking about, calling me an old man? For the record, I'm only six years older than you!"
"Old man. Grandpa," Noah shot back.
Soo cracked his knuckles, a crooked smile on his face. "Ah, I see. If I'm a grandpa, then of course I must discipline the younger generation."
Noah's eyes widened and he hurriedly bowed. "Sorry! Sorry! I didn't mean it that way. I- I was just trying to joke. I don't have many friends..."
Soo covered his mouth, trying not to laugh. "Pfft. Hahah! You're funny. I like you."
Noah dropped his head, embarrassed. Soo gave him a friendly slap on the back. "All right," he said. "Let's head to my gym."
Soo jogged ahead, looking back over his shoulder. "Are you going to start running or wait for the gym to come to you?"
Noah stared. He really had to run there.
Thirty minutes later they reached the place. Noah was drenched, breathing hard, hands on his knees. Soo barely looked winded.
The gym wasn't crowded. Just the two of them. Noah had pictured something busier.
"So," Soo said, taking it in. "Nice, right? Big, clean, top of the line."
Noah had to admit everything looked new. "Yeah... but where is everyone?"
Soo scratched his head and laughed. "Beats me. Not that it matters. Think of it as a private setup. The infamous Soo Jang will be your personal trainer."
He disappeared into the back and came out with two fresh pairs of boxing gloves and rolls of tape. His voice went from playful to serious. "Pay attention. I won't do it for you."
Soo taped his hands, slapped on the gloves. Noah mimicked the motions, a little clumsy, until it looked nearly right.
"Not bad for a first try," Soo said. "You'll get the hang of it."
They stepped into a ring. Soo dropped into stance. "First thing: stance. You're not just flailing. You're building a base. Watch." He planted his feet, shoulders loose, hands up.
"Feet shoulder-width. Weight on the balls of your feet. Chin down. Eyes up."
Noah copied him, awkward but focused.
"Now jab." Soo shot a quick punch, vibrating the air. "Snap it out, pull back. Don't overreach."
Noah's first jab was timid. Soo shook his head. "Faster. Sharper. Cut the air, don't shove it."
The next one came much cleaner. "Good. Now the cross." Soo showed a straight right, full extension.
Noah felt the glove's weight and tried it. "Solid start," Soo said applauding. "Basics first. Footwork and defense after. Now, the regimen."
Noah wiped sweat off his brow. "Regimen?"
Soo folded his arms. "If you want results, you need discipline. Daily drills, conditioning. Technique only goes so far if your body won't back it."
Noah nodded.
"Every day: warm up with stretches for legs, arms, shoulders. Fifteen minutes jump rope. Fifteen minutes high-intensity running. Then jab and cross, three sets of fifty each. Footwork practice, four rounds of three minutes. Shadowbox, three rounds of three minutes, focus on form and rhythm."
Noah's face tightened. Soo wasn't done.
"Finish with strength work: three sets of 100 push-ups, three sets of 50 pull-ups, three sets of 250 squats. Three sets of two-minute wall sits, three sets of one-minute planks, three sets of 50 leg raises, and three sets of 50 russian twists. Then four rounds of three minutes on the heavy bag."
Soo grinned. "Easy beginner routine, right?"
Noah felt the air leave his lungs. "No way that's beginner. I can barely do fifty push-ups once, let alone 100 and in three sets."
Soo cocked his head. "You really are that weak? No wonder they beat you."
Noah clenched his jaw and then relaxed. "I'll do it."
Soo clapped. "Good. When you can handle that without dying, I'll move you to intermediate. Six weeks. Start today."
Noah felt his soul leave his body, but he had no other option.