Grant staggered to his feet, breathing heavily.

His students had never seen him lose control.

His face had turned crimson.

"You cheated," he growled.

"No thirteen-year-old can move like that."

June remained calm.

"My grandfather taught me."

Grant laughed bitterly.

"And who was this mysterious grandfather?"

June looked at the faded wooden plaque hanging on the dojo wall.

Her eyes softened.

"Kenji Sato."

The dojo froze.

Every student looked toward the plaque.

There it was.

A framed black-and-white photograph of the dojo's founder.

Grandmaster Kenji Sato.

The man who had created Red Crane Dojo fifty years earlier.

Grant's smile vanished.

"That's impossible."

June quietly reached into her backpack.

She removed an old cloth bundle.

Inside lay a worn black belt.

Its embroidery had nearly faded with time.

But one name could still be read.

Kenji Sato.

Naomi wiped tears from her face.

"My father never wanted fame," she said softly.

"When he became ill, he left this dojo to Grant because he believed it would protect people."

Her voice trembled.

"Instead..."

"...it became a place of fear."

One elderly man standing among the spectators suddenly stepped forward.

He had been watching in silence from the entrance.

Everyone recognized him.

Mr. Tanaka.

The oldest surviving student of Grandmaster Sato.

His eyes filled with tears.

He bowed deeply toward June.

"I would recognize Master's movement anywhere."

He turned slowly toward Grant.

"You abandoned every lesson he ever taught."

Grant's shoulders slumped.

For the first time...

He had no defense.