Sitting in the dim light, my sensei raises my arm by the wrist and fires a quick blow: a thumb into my armpit. A quick but stiff thumb right in a soft place. He tells me, in Japanese, the strike sends immediate shock to the radial nerve. He's telling me this while I feel it. Feel the pain rush up and down my arm, down into my fingers. Hell, my toes feel it. I collapse while he still holds on to my wrist, holding up my arm. I'm squeezing my eyes so I don't cry. Biting my lip so I don't scream.
"Do you understand?" he asks me.
I nod. "Hai." It's about all I can say.
"Good," he says. "Now...we do it again."
And again.
And again.
And again.
I know what he's doing. Like striking the board with your bare fist. Like playing guitar until your blisters break and make calluses. He's making me stronger. Every night I sneak out and he trains me, I'm getting stronger. But even when you hit your hand against the board a thousand times, there's still pain. You just have to learn how to ignore the pain.
Or, in my case, turn it into something else. That's what Tantalus taught me.
So when you ram your thumb into my armpit, my body reacts. I let go of you. I don't get to swing the tip of my elbow down onto the base of your throat. I let go of you and turn, stomping into the center of the ring. Shouting as many curse words as I know. Grabbing my shoulder, squeezing it tight. Remembering the first time I felt this. Remembering the second time. The third time. The fourth time. But no matter how many times you feel it, no matter how accustomed to the pain you become, there is still pain. Red hot screaming biting pain.
And in another place, in another dimly lit room (what is it with guys and dimly lit rooms?), Tantalus binds my hands above my head. He whispers something cruel and sweet into my ear. And then he does something...terrible. And awful. Terrible because it inspires terror. Awful because it inspires awe.
And there's a look on my face in that moment. A look of agony. A look of ecstasy. And when he asks me, "Are you okay?" I look him in the eye and tell him,
"...more."
So after the initial rush of blinding screaming red hot pain, you hear me sucking air through my teeth. Then, you see me turn.
Then, you see my smile.
"Looks like mommy's little girl is finally growing up," I say, smiling at you.
I drop my arms. Lower my gaze into yours.
"Come on, good girl. Show me how bad you can be."
