CHAPTER THIRTEEN - A LESSON IN HUMILITY

The rhythmic thud of fists striking pads echoed through the dojo. Taylor wiped the sweat from her brow, adjusting her stance as Hiro barked corrections at another student on the far end of the mat. Her muscles burned from an hour of drills, but the pain was a welcome—almost meditative—distraction, the discipline of training becoming a constant in her life. A grounding force amid Gotham’s mess

“Your form is improving,” Hiro said as he passed by, his tone approving but clipped. “But don’t get overconfident. Overconfidence is the enemy of victory.”

Taylor stepped back into position for her next sequence with a nod, though her confidence had been growing steadily. Her reflexes were sharp, her strikes faster and more powerful than they had been just weeks ago. She felt ready for more.

And as if that was the cue the universe needed, she noticed someone new enter the dojo.

The man’s presence drew immediate attention: tall, wolfish, with dark hair slightly tousled, and a lean frame clad in athletic wear that hinted at a lifetime of physical conditioning. His dark blue eyes and easy smile gave him a disarming, almost casual air, making him look out of place in the dojo’s gritty, no-nonsense atmosphere.

Hiro noticed him immediately and nodded in acknowledgment. “Grayson.”

The man returned the nod. “Sensei.” His voice was warm, confident.

Taylor didn’t give him much thought until Hiro gestured toward her. “He’ll be your sparring partner today.”

Taylor blinked. “What?”

Hiro’s sharp gaze silenced any protest. “You’ve been asking for a challenge. Now you’ve got one. Grayson, take it easy on her.”

The man—Grayson—grinned, stepping onto the mat and gesturing for her to join him. “No promises.”

Taylor took a deep breath and squared up on the mat, trying to suppress the feeling bubbling in her chest. She wasn’t sure what to make of this Grayson. He didn’t carry himself like a professional fighter, but there was something about his movements—their flat, predatory intentness—that made her uneasy.

She shook it off. She could hold her own against most of the other students in the dojo—and that was without using her powers to compensate, even a little. This would just be another test.

Grayson settled into a loose and unassuming stance, his hands relaxed. “Ready?”

“Always,” Taylor replied, her voice steady.

Hiro called out, “Begin!”

Taylor moved first, testing him with a quick jab. He sidestepped effortlessly, his smile never wavering. She pressed forward with a combination of strikes, her fists and feet lashing out in rapid succession, aiming for his torso.

But he was always so out of reach.

“Not bad,” he said lightly, sidestepping her next punch. “But predictable.”

However, when she tried to switch up her rhythm, he adapted instantly, countering her every move.

Frustration began to creep in. She feinted a high kick and pivoted into a low sweep, aiming to catch him off balance. But he leapt over her leg with an almost acrobatic flair, landing lightly on the balls of his feet.

“Too aggressive,” he added, his tone almost teasing.

Taylor gritted her teeth, resetting her stance. This wasn’t just sparring—he was testing her like she did earlier, dissecting her technique with infuriating ease.

She surged forward, throwing everything she had into a punch at his ribs. For a moment, she thought she’d caught him off guard. But he shifted at the last second, deflecting her strike with enough force to send her arm off course.

Then, with a blur of motion, he stepped inside her guard.

Before she could react, his leg swept behind hers, and his palm pressed against her shoulder, sending her tumbling to the mat.

The world tilted as she hit the ground, her breath escaping in a sharp gasp.

Grayson crouched beside her, offering a hand. “You okay?”

Taylor ignored it, pushing herself to her feet. “Again.”

He raised an eyebrow, impressed. “Sure.”

. . . . .

The second round went no better than the first. Grayson was faster, obviously more experienced, and infuriatingly calm. Every move Taylor made seemed anticipated, every strike met with a counter.

By the third round, her frustration boiled over. She charged at him, abandoning technique in favor of brute force. Grayson caught her wrist mid-strike, pivoted, and used her momentum to flip her onto the mat again.

She landed hard, the impact knocking the wind out of her.

“That’s enough,” Hiro called, his tone final.

Grayson offered his hand again, and this time, Taylor took it, though her pride stung more than her bruised body.

“Good effort,” Grayson said, his voice kind. “You’ve got potential, but you’re letting your emotions get the better of you. That’ll get you hurt.”

Taylor narrowed her eyes, wiping sweat from her brow. “Who are you?”

The man chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “I’m Dick Grayson. Nice to meet you.”

Her eyes narrowed. The name tickled something in the back of her mind, but she couldn’t quite place it. “Why are you here?”

“To train, same as you,” he replied, his easy smile returning. “I drop in on Hiro sometimes when I’m in town. He’s an old friend.”

The aforementioned man stepped forward, his gaze shifting between them. “Taylor, Grayson’s right. You’ve got skill, but you’re reckless. Work on your focus, and you’ll be harder to beat.”

Taylor nodded stiffly, her mind still reeling from her loss.

As Grayson headed for the door, he paused and glanced back at her. “You’ve got fire, though. Don’t lose that. Just learn to control it.”

Control. The word struck Taylor like a well-aimed blow, and her jaw tightened reflexively. Wasn’t that what this city—this whole new chapter of her life—was demanding of her, too? To control her powers, her emotions, and her decisions.

“Control,” she repeated under her breath, bitterness creeping into her voice as she watched him leave, fists clenched at her sides. She hated the implication that she was so easy to read that a veritable stranger had figured her out over the course of a sparring session.

But as much as she resisted the idea, there was a kernel of truth in his words, and she knew it. She’d seen it tonight on the mat. All her strength, her instincts, her experience—none of it mattered when someone like Grayson, with his discipline and grace, stood against her.

For a moment, Taylor stared at the door as it swung shut behind him. Then she let out a long, slow breath, forcing her shoulders to relax. She had always learned through adversity, and this wouldn’t be any different.

Control. Fine. If that’s what it took to survive Gotham, to make a difference in this broken city, she’d learn it by force. But it would be on her terms.

Hiro clapped his hands, breaking her free of her thoughts. “That’s enough excitement for today. Everyone, back to your drills.”

At some point, she had been distantly aware that most had stopped what they were doing to watch her spar, so as the others returned to their routines, Taylor lingered for a moment. She had come a long way since arriving in Gotham, but tonight had been a stark reminder of how much further she still had to go.

And as for Dick Grayson… she was certain now that there was more to him than he was letting on.