Shoulders slumped, Rafiq pushed open the door to the roof terrace, spirits lower than the underground subway. There, he found Mr. Stone stretching atop a yoga mat, dressed in a tank top and sweatpants. He let out a long sign as the door to the roof closed behind Rafiq.

Mr. Stone relaxed his pose. “Ah, good morning. Care to join me?”

Rafiq raised his eyebrows, but noticed the second mat laid out beside Mr. Stone. He stretched into a familiar pose: a half-split, straightening his back and leaning forward as his knee dug into the mat. He extended his other leg forward, placing his palms on either side.

“Straighten your back more. Feel the tension being released from your muscles. It’s quite energizing, isn’t it?” Beside him, Mr. Stone continued his crescent lunge. “Your form is impressive. Those nightly stretches seem to be great for your flexibility.”

Rafiq took a deep breath. But, every further second he stretched was another second he remembered another baited kick that Tony Nine pushed with a combo. He exhaled loudly.

“Let us rest for a moment. You can take the chance to tell me what’s troubling you.”

“Hold on, how could you tell?” Rafiq released his stance, and sat down facing Mr. Stone criss-cross on the mat.

“Well, you’ve been gone all morning, and then you come back more sad than I’ve ever seen you.” Mr. Stone reached for his water bottle. “I know Carmen and Daniel are off at the cafe down the street, and Cedric’s tailing them for safety, but you’ve been gone all morning.”

Rafiq gasped. “He got her to say yes? Hell yeah!”

“Language.”

“Sorry. Is it just a hangout, or…?”

He shrugged. “As long as it doesn’t impede our goals here, whether its a friendly hangout, or anything more, I do not mind. I do mind students sneaking off unannounced, though.”

Against Mr. Stone’s narrowed glare, Rafiq sighed. “I used matchmaking to challenge someone in the range we’re looking for.”

“And?”

He averted his eyes, following a flock of birds as they fluttered from one rooftop to another in search of a perch. “I thought I had it, man, but after the first round, I…I lost my cool. In front of everyone. And they laughed, and he took the rematch, and…” He buried his forehead in his hands. “I thought I was better than that.”

“It’s as expected. You were Johnson’s student.”

“But I’m not anymore. I ain’t got shit—”

Mr. Stone tightened his stern look.

“My B. I ain’t got anything to do with him. I shouldn’t be acting like that anymore.”

“You shouldn’t. And you aren’t his student. But you were his student, once upon a time. A true teacher’s lessons never leave their students, if they were ever a teacher at all. Now, it’s up to you to grow past his version of your life.”

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

“But how am I supposed to do that? I thought I was supposed to focus more on me, but clearly that ain't working.”

“It isn’t?”

“I just got my butt handed to me four to none.”

“And who did you consult before you left to fight? Who’s advice did you ask for about your opponent’s moveset? What strategies did you borrow from your peers?”

Rafiq let his head hang.

“I wasn’t busy, Rafiq. If you had asked me to watch you spar in a training lobby, I could’ve told you that you lack awareness for low attacks, and that your aggression blinds you.”

“I didn’t think about doin’ that. Daniel and I were talking this morning at the gym, and he got me fired up, so…”

“So you went for it impulsively, without stopping to ask anyone for help.”

“Don’t I need to learn to rely on myself more?” he asked. “Ain’t that how I get past what he taught me?”

“No one can grow by rejecting help from others. There’s a fine line between self-reliance and selfishness,” Mr. Stone said. “I’m glad you vented to me about this. But, running off for a challenge without telling anyone, thinking that you were better than your peers, and insulting your opponent for being proven wrong was very selfish.”

A pang of anger struck Rafiq’s heart.

“But selfishness can be unlearned. Whenever Daniel and Carmen return, perhaps they can help provide some insight on your shortcomings. Until then, take some time for yourself.” Adjusting his glasses, he put a hand on Rafiq’s shoulder. “Do you know what’s just as important as fighting?”

“What?”

“Resting. The channels available on the hotel TV are remarkable.”

Rafiq nodded and rose to his feet. “I’ll think about checking ‘em out. See you later, teach.”

As Mr. Stone returned to his rooftop stretches, dark clouds obscured the sunlight, but Rafiq closed the door behind him and continued down the stairs, heart pounding, taking deep breaths to not give into his anger once more. Talking with him cleared his mind at first, but he fogged it up even more afterwards.

Yeah, Carmen could tell him what he was doing wrong. But, him, selfish? He clenched his fist, opening the door to their floor. He couldn’t be — what even made him selfish for that? It was his choice to go and try to fight Tony Nine. No one got hurt by it. No one lost anything but him and his dignity. Who cared if they didn’t know where he was?

You did it because you thought you were better than them.

How did Mr. Stone even know? Another part of Rafiq cursed Coach once more for putting him in this kind of situation, for kindling the flames of his anger to the point where he’d ever be such a sore loser. He swore to himself, if he ever saw Coach again, he’d—

No. He wouldn’t do anything. That was exactly the anger that was an issue, and he knew he couldn't keep giving into those impulses. Carmen probably knew what it felt like. She had done the same against Monique, back during the tournament.

Unfortunately, neither her or Daniel had returned yet, evidenced by the lack of Daniel’s presence in their shared room. Rafiq shut the door behind himself and collapsed onto the bed, pressing into his eyes with the palms of his hands, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Nothing was hurt anymore, but his chin throbbed from the phantom pain remembering Tony Nine’s ultimate.

The only one who ever gave him direction had sent him in the wrong direction. When he tried putting himself in a direction, apparently it was the wrong direction too. And yet, the right direction felt so foreign, so insulting.

Put himself first, but don’t, because it’s apparently selfish.

Which way was right?