Chapter 7: The White Belt Responsibility
The evening humidity clung to the green puzzle mats of the dojo, smelling faintly of disinfectant and old canvas. I stood by the edge of the wall, wiping the sweat from my forehead with the sleeve of my white jiu-jitsu gi. The kids' transition class was wrapping up before the adult session rolled over, and Coach was rounding up the stray equipment. Near the doorway, a small boy stood frozen, clutching a brand-new, stiff white uniform. His jacket hung slightly too loose over his shoulders, and the cotton trousers pooled around his bare ankles.
Coach spotted me across the mats and waved a hand, beckoning me over.
"Hey," Coach said, clapping a heavy hand on my shoulder as I jogged up. "Leo here just transferred from the rec center program. His knot keeps slipping off. Show him how we tie it here, keep it secure through the warm-ups."
I looked down at the boy. Leo couldn't have been more than nine years old, his eyes wide behind round glasses as he stared up at my white belt. I knew that exact look. It was the same hollow, nervous stillness I had worn on my first day here, when the walls felt too tall and the space felt entirely too loud.
"Come here," I said, my voice softening as I knelt down to his eye level.
Leo shuffled forward, his bare feet squeaking slightly on the green foam. I unraveled the white belt from my own waist, holding it out flat between us so he could see the texture of the weave.
"Watch my hands," I instructed, keeping my movements deliberate. "Take the center of the belt right against your stomach, just below your navel."
He fumbled with the fabric, pressing the middle against his stomach while I wrapped the long ends around his back. The cotton was stiff, resisting the bend, but I guided his small fingers to cross them cleanly behind him, bringing them back around to the front.
"Cross them over," I murmured, mirroring the exact technique I had been taught months ago by Coach on my very first afternoon. "Left over right, then tuck it under everything from the bottom up."
Leo pulled the ends tight, the knot forming a neat, flat square against his stomach. He looked down, adjusting the two hanging tails so they were even, just like mine. A small, proud smile broke through his nervous expression.
"There," I said, giving the knot a gentle tug to test its hold. "Now it won't go anywhere when we start drilling."
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"Thanks," Leo whispered, straightening his jacket before running off to join the other kids lining up by the wall.
As I stood back up and stretched my legs, I caught movement out of the corner of my eye. Marcus was leaning against the equipment rack near the office door, arms crossed lazily over his blue BJJ gi. He had his black belt tied securely around his waist, the dark fabric a sharp contrast to the bright white of my uniform. For a long moment, he didn't look away or offer one of his usual sharp grins. His expression was quiet, thoughtful, and entirely unreadable as he watched me walk back to my spot on the mats.
