AVA GLANCED AT the grimy alley. This can’t be right, she thought. Crushed newspapers, bags of garbage, and pools of muck lined the narrow street. But a faded sign with Accadamia della Spada hung above the door.

Odd. A famous establishment located in the armpit of Iron City.

She hitched her equipment bag higher on her aching shoulder and headed toward the building. Since she lived in the suburbs across town, it had taken her over an hour to reach this place by bus. Ava pulled her coat’s hood over her head as cold raindrops dripped from the night sky.

An unsettled feeling rolled in her stomach. She should be ecstatic and thrilled. This was a dream come true. Perhaps the combination of the location and the rainy Monday had doused her excitement.

A prickle of unease raised the hairs on her arms. She paused, certain someone was watching her, but the teenager lounging on a stoop across the street had his hoodie pulled down over his face as if asleep.

When she spotted two large blue eyes staring at her, she smiled in relief. A young boy peered at her through the dirty window of the building next to the Academy. He hid behind his mother when Ava drew closer.

Through the window, Ava recognized a karate dojo. Parents sat in folding chairs as their children, clad in oversized uniforms with bright colored belts, kicked in unison. A young man with a black belt wove between them, correcting postures or giving praise. His shoulder-length hair had been pulled back into a ponytail, revealing a tattoo on his neck. The two black marks resembled Chinese calligraphy.

Ava lingered by the window, observing the lesson. I’m not procrastinating. I’m learning. That shuffle-kick is very similar to fencing footwork.