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said earlier, I’m like water.”
    “What do you mean, like water?”
    “Water is formless. It adapts to its surroundings. It’s perfectly flexible. Nothing can shake it.”
    Mr. Kim gave Bretten little time to consider Rodrigo’s words. He turned and said, “Okay, ready, ready, Kap-shee-dah, let’s go!”
    Bretten was ready to get to the hotel, but they were behind a bus and pinned between the line of taxis and the curb.
    “Be like water, unshakable, I like it Rodrigo.”
    “Water my friend, water.”
    Mr. Kim mumbled under his breath, glanced over his right shoulder, jammed on the gas and cranked the wheels to the right. The sedan bounced up on the curb, slalomed through piles of scattered luggage, and just missed a man and his two daughters who clung to odd parts of a moped. If it wasn’t for the man’s expert driving and the girls’ perfect leans, they no doubt would have crashed.
    Once by the parked bus, Mr. Kim mashed the horn and shot off the curb into a line of slow moving taxis. In an instant he was swerving in and out of the speeding traffic with a reckless abandon for all street signs and a total disregard for painted lines. He fit in seamlessly with the chaos. “So you two big fighters?”
    “I don’t know about big,” Bretten said, “but yeah we’re here to fight.”
    “Takes strong man to fight. I take good care for you,” Mr. Kim stared at them in his rearview mirror and cut off a bus as he changed lanes.
    The event coordinator said it was almost an hour from airport to hotel. Mr. Kim pulled into the Dong In hotel only thirty minutes after hopping the curb and just missing the moped family back at the airport.
    “Okay, okay, I help you. Later I take you to gym.”
    Rodrigo and Bretten glanced at each other. Both were still squeezing the sedan’s ceiling handles.
    “See, like water...” Rodrigo said.
    “I think the water is down both my pant legs,” Bretten replied.
    Mr. Kim gave both of them a puzzled look.
    Often people become much closer when they experience a distressing event together. Mr. Kim provided Bretten and Rodrigo with such an event. In a matter of half an hour they’d formed a friendship that they knew would last.

Chapter Nine
    A fter a quick training session to cut weight and get to know each other’s fighting styles, Mr. Kim took Bretten and Rodrigo to the bustling Itaewon. They bought knockoff Nikes and ate something called galbi.
    Now after a night of restless sleep, Mr. Kim walked them to the conference area of Jangchung Arena. They pushed through double doors and into a din of action. “This is crazy,” Bretten said. “So this is what a real weigh-in is like?”
    “What do you mean?” Rodrigo said. “You’ve never been to a weigh-in?”
    “Not like this. I’ve only fought five times and we just weighed in a couple hours before the fight, nothing formal.”
    “Dang bro, this really is new to you isn’t it?”
    “Yeah, I’ve done some kickboxing and trained in jiu jitsu for only a couple years, just had my first fight like five months ago. I showed up to watch and they needed a replacement. One of my friends volunteered me so I ate a couple hot dogs and twenty minutes later was in the ring with a guy that was close to twenty pounds heavier than me.”
    Rodrigo grabbed Bretten’s arm and turned toward him. “You gotta be shitting me, right? What Happened?”
    “Nope, that’s how I started, and I knocked his ass out.”
    The theater-sized room displayed an assortment of colors and patterns in its plush carpet. A couple dozen reporters sat on red cushioned chairs and talked with each other or typed on their laptops. In the middle of it all was a podium flanked by two long tables.
    Mr. Kim found the event coordinator who Bretten had corresponded with previously. He ushered them to seats at the end of one of the long tables. At the other end sat a handful of Korean fighters, Bretten didn’t know which one, if any, was Hyun Min Cho. Another two or three