Makoto Martial Arts. Unequivocally, one of my favorite places in the world. It was November 24th 2008 when my life changed drastically. Fighting in the tournament was minutes away from my grasp. I was sitting on the decrepit benches, anticipation building up inside of me. My mind knew the referee was going to call on me, I just did not know when, which drove me insanely berserk. Four or six contestants had already fought one another at least once, which meant I was next. Suddenly, out of nowhere, I heard the words, “Krishna, your up,” in a voice I could easily recognize, as my sensei. Rapidly, I placed my mouthpiece in my mouth, gloves on my fist, stood up and approached the ring thinking I was ready for anything to be thrown at me. My chin was raised and my chest puffed up as I stared my opponent down eye to eye. His name was Jeff. I despised this extremely annoying, arrogant, and immature boy. He was a purple belt, which was three belts higher than I was. Positioning myself into ‘fighting stance,’ ideas on how I would crush him raced through my already stressed mind. Not even a millisecond after I had a plan all put together, the whistle blew, and the fight began. Losing my train of thought, a fist landed in my face, and a foot struck my hip. My ears could adequately identify the faint whistle blowing in the background. One point for the guy I loathed, zero for me. The whistle blew again, we fought again. This time, the fight belonged to me. Now, it is anyone’s game. Committed to give it my all, I kicked, punched, blocked, fought, and knocked out. It took me a while to realize that I had knocked out someone who was three belts higher than I was. Joy and pride blew my mind away. I was through to the next round. Giddy with content, but weary with exhaustion, I sat back down wiping the perspiration off my forehead with the back of my sore hand. Relaxed and satisfied, I thought everything was over. I was wrong. I heard my name called again.

Advancing towards the ring, I saw three teenaged boys on one side, as my sensei escorted me to the other side. My jaw dropped at a speed of 100 miles per second. Puzzlement filled my head. What was happening? Was I competing against them all? All I could think about was what went through my sensei’s head. With absolutely no time to think about how I could handle the nearly insurmountable combat, the sound of the whistle blew through my ear, and I delivered everything I was taught. I handled the first competitor with a right uppercut and left hook which left him crumbling like a coward. Acrimoniously, I round-house kicked my second foe in the ribs followed by a right jab which left him tumbling down. Lastly, my third enemy was all curled up in the corner with a terrified expression painted on his sweaty face. He was about five inches taller than I was, but all I had to do was approach, and BAM! What was left was three grown boys, all bigger than I was, lying on the floor, moaning. I won. Victory was all mine.

The crowd went barbaric. Standing ovations, rounds of applauses, and complete strangers chanting my name. It was prodigiously stupendous. I was nothing but flabbergasted. People in formal clothing approached me with a medallion, a certificate with my name on it, and a massive trophy nearly impossible for a girl like me to carry. My classmates picked me up and carried me around as if I were a parade float. That night on November 24th 2008, I had won the tournament for Makoto Martial Arts, but most importantly, I had received a title that would stick me forever. From that day on, I have been known as K.O. (short for knock out) in karate. Lots of young students at Makoto look up to me. They see me as some type of legend that would never die. Every moment is savored, and I remember promising myself that I would never forget that day, and my promise has been kept.