Ming Dojo

Though the exterior of the Dojo was all but lost among the surrounding buildings, the interior was open and spacious. There was no mistaking the building for anything but what it was. A large mat covered the floor save for the outer edges where one could walk, and the walls were adorned with rows of weapon racks. Swords, polearms, axes, throwing knives, and a wide assortment of other weaponry were all neatly displayed along the racks.

She hit the switches on the wall just inside the front door and the lights flickered on.

"We don't open for another hour," she explained. "There's a phone in the back room there."

She pointed him towards the small office area in the back, which was scarcely larger than a small closet that was partitioned off from the rest of the dojo by a sliding latticed bamboo door that was covered by a thin translucent paper.

Inside he would find a modest workspace with a tidy but old desk with worn edges and scuff marks in its wood finish. Everything arranged on top of it was neat and orderly, but the furniture and even the phone sitting on its edge bore the signs of use.

"Thanks." He said to Ming, nearly gliding across the room towards the office. He wanted to get home as soon as possible, but he'd let everyone know that he was okay in the meantime.

He grabbed the phone, immediately dialing in a number quickly. Now came the part that took away all the suspense. Waiting for someone to answer.

"Alfarsi speaking. Who is this?" A woman's voice said through the phone, a relief for John to hear it. "Hey, it's me. I'm back. Not sure how, but I'm back." John said, "Now, I need a ride home, Fatin." He added.

"Wait... what? Fuck." The woman on the other end of the line said. John was surprised to hear her curse, she was never one for coarse language. "Where are you?" She asked, "Little Shintenchi. It's in Asteria City. I'm in a place called Ming Dojo." He told Stryfe.

"I'll have the Veritas get directions. I'll be there within a few hours." Stryfe told John, "Alright. I'll be waiting." He responded, hanging up the phone. The young man stepped out of the office, a slight smile on his lips.

"I'll be out of your hair in a few hours." He said to Sun, "I hope you don't mind me hanging out."

"Not at all," Sun replied with a smile. "It might get a bit more crowded in an hour, but it's no trouble for us to have you around. We get people who come in to watch the students sometimes. Usually it's their friends and family, but no one's going to be alarmed if you're hanging around for a few hours."

The Ming dojo had twenty-four students at the current time, and Sun appeared to be the only instructor staffed, but she managed the group well enough.  She moved with precision and grace as she padded from student to student to offer instruction and to correct their form and movements through demonstrations. Today they were focusing on the bo staff, and students were paired off with one another. The staves were padded, but had enough heft to them to leave the occasional careless student smarting from the impact.

The students - mostly ranging from late teens to young adults - were advanced enough that they required only minimal correction from Sun as she walked up and down the length of the dojo to observe their movements with an approving gaze. It was clear to see that Sun enjoyed her work, and that she viewed her students with an element of pride.

---

The last of the students were trickling from the dojo, while a few lingered to exchange conversation with Sun, but soon they too were on their way until Sun and Izumi had the place to themselves once more. It had grown warm in the interior of the building frrom the body heat generated throughout the days practice, and Sun was helping herself to a bottle of water from a small mini-fridge in the back office. The dojo it would seem was a mingling of traditional and modern elements.

"Do you want anything?" she asked Izumi as she poked her head out from the doorway to the office room.

"No, I'm fine." John answered, body armor resting beside where he sat on the floor. He sat with his legs crossed, and despite removing the armored vest he opted to keep wearing his coat and hat. Mostly it was because his hair was dirty, and his body was smelly. He hadn't had a shower in awhile.

It didn't help that he had been running around a desert. He couldn't wait until Stryfe arrived and took him home. A shower would be magical. The only thing keeping his stink in check was his trenchcoat itself.

"Actually, I'll take some tea. If you have it, at least." He told Sun. Only moments later there was knocking at the door, muffled voices comeing from the other side. "More students?" John asked.

Sun opened the door only to be faced with the armed presence of the Invictus.

"Ah... you must be here for John?" she asked.

Her ears had dropped a fraction of an inch. It was far from the first time armed men and women had knocked on her door, and as she had in times past she simply moved aside and waved them in. What else was she to do? Tell them no? Better to let them about their business until they left. Preferably before Yakuza took note of their presence and decided these people were moving in on their territory. She didn't much care for her dojo winding up caught in the crossfire of gang violence.

"Hi!" Stryfe bellowed out, smiling at brightly at Sun. "I'm sorry. Yes, we're here for John." She told Sun, then gesturing to the armed woman behind herself. "This is Natasha Zolner, my bodyguard." Stryfe informed the woman who would soon be her host.

Natasha seemed to be a little taller than your average woman, the jumpsuit and bulky armor she wore making the woman seem much more hulking than she actually was. Her brown hair braided into neat cornrows.

"Hi." Natasha said quietly.

"I am Fatin Alfarsi, current head of the Invictus, John's sister by adoption, and someone very grateful that you've looked after him." Stryfe said to Sun, "Hey, Fatin." John said, waving to the woman as he stood up.

"It is the least I could do," Sun replied.

Though had she known that John's 'family' would be arriving with guns and the like, she might have had second thoughts in bringing him here to her place of work. It wasn't that she found the group particularly threatening, but rather she didn't want the Yakuza taking notice and getting the wrong impression.

"I fear we do not have much in the way of seats," Sun replied. "But make yourself at home."

"It's fine." Fatin told Sun as she and Natasha stepped into the dojo, "I can stand or sit on the floor if need be. Unfortunately, I doubt we'll be able to stay long enough to have a real conversation." She informed Sun, beckoning John over with a hand. The young man was already in the process of gathering his things, jogging over once he had the body arm and gun in hand.

It wasn't a good idea, or nice, to leave both on Sun's floor.

"There are some things John and I have to discuss in private. So, we'll be out of your hair soon. Or fur." She said, "Regardless, if there is anything you may need, let me know. I can't do much for you now, but I can try. Could some some students your way." Fatin said to Sun.

"Yeah, Wing City isn't the best place for trying to train in peace. My arm got broke last time we tried." John added, "It hurted. A lot."

"You can make use of my office if you want," Sun replied.

She indicated the back room with a gesture of her hand.

"Take your time. I still have some cleaning up to do around here before I close up."

Leaving the trio to their talks, Sun moved off to begin sweeping the floors.

"Thank you, but I think it may be best that we leave." Fatin said, "I always feel like something's going wrong when I'm not in my office." She added, purposely leaving out that she was in her office more than she was in the sun these days. "Thank you anyways, miss...?"

"Sun." John told Fatin, "Sun!" The Invictus leader called out, gesturing John and then Natasha towards the exit. "Why the rush?" John asked, "You stink and I'd like to discuss this in a more secure place." Fatin answered.

"No offense." She called out to Sun again.

In the Silence of the Dojo sat a single man, his eyes closed in meditation as he sat upon the floor. He wore no coverings for his feet, and was dressed in simple, loose fitting clothes befitting a monk. He was unornamented, unadorned, there was no way to determine whether he was a novice or grandmaster, nothing at all that spoke of his skill or ability, save for the ease of his practiced posture and measured breathing.

Without opening his eyes, he said aloud. "Well then.... I'm waiting."