Pawn’s Ninjutsu black belt hung on the wall of his basement dojo next to his Taijutsu black belt, which now sported a second-degree stripe. Other than that, the room looked much the same as it always had. But all was not as it had been.
Soaked with sweat and dressed in only his black gi pants, he beat the living crap out of his heavy bag. The bag rocked and swayed so violently that he had to counter each of his strikes with a follow-up on the opposite side of the bag to keep the whole thing from falling over. He couldn’t get his mom’s face out of his mind.
“Nice lady,” he rasped between breaths.
His strikes were leaving deep welts on the bag. He shifted to the right.