Her Son's Hero

When the beginners had all lined up, Mako introduced Sensei Dominic Payette as his most prized student and a gifted teacher. The novices, as young as eight and as old as eighteen, greeted Dom with the same precision and etiquette Sensei had drilled into him, but some of the boys clearly recognized him from the UFF.

After Mako introduced their newest student, he paired Sean with Blake Anders, a seventeen-year-old from the advanced class who drove in from a neighboring town just so he could learn from Sensei Miwa. The young man was an exceptional martial artist and eager to share his skills with others. He was also patient and kind. He would be a good mentor to Sean, and Dom in turn would reward Blake by teaching him new skills.

That was the way of the dojo: wisdom and skills were passed from student to student. Seniors would not disregard younger or less advanced students, and juniors were expected to respect and be grateful for anything their teachers passed on. It was an environment that had once been totally alien to Dom, who’d never known respect and honor.

The class went through a warm-up and some basic exercises. Sean followed along as best he could, with Blake at his side correcting his posture and the placement of his feet. Dom noticed Sean didn’t need to be told twice what to do.

As Dom followed along with the beginners’ class, he recalled the day Mako had caught him trying to steal his car. That had been the lowest point in Dom’s life. Who knew where he’d be today if the old man hadn’t stopped him?

And stopped him he had. Before Dom even knew someone was there, he’d been thrown to the pavement with his arm pinned behind his back.

“Tap out?” Mako had asked, a note of laughter vibrating through his words.

“Get off me, man! I didn’t do anything!”

“I asked you a question, boy. Tap out?” Mako pulled his arm snug against him, sending a sharp pain through his back.

“Ow! Yes! I tap out! Stop!”

The karate master let go and Dom scrambled to his feet, prepared to flee. But the dojo owner had scrutinized him with those fathomless eyes and smiled. With a firm grasp on his wrist that made Dom realize he wasn’t going anywhere without breaking a femur, the sensei had led him inside his dojo and offered him a cup of tea.

And they’d talked. About why Dom was trying to steal his car; about why a young man like him was on the dangerous New Orleans streets in the middle of the night rather than safe at home.

It had taken some time, but eventually Dom had poured his heart out to the dojo owner about his self-destructive father, the death of his mother, the destitution her illness had left them in.

Mako offered him a path then: join the dojo and learn karate. Dom could take up a custodial position at the center, and Mako would pay him minimum wage and give him lessons for free.

Dom had nothing else to look forward to, so he’d accepted. In time he’d climbed the ladder of belts, and eventually became involved in mixed martial arts. When Dom had told him he was going to compete in the UFF, Mako hadn’t been as supportive, preferring that his surrogate son continue to study karate-do, but he’d understood the young man’s need to compete and bring honor to himself.

And Dom was so close.