Master's Dojo (Hidden?)

Lee Hitsugaya watched the fists clash together as he stumbled from the sound wave before getting in another defensive stance as he widened his footspace, getting ready for a head on attack from Mathias.

Verex suddenly landed on Zenith and laughed. "Got ya bro" He said and scrambled off. "Why arnt you in the bar?" he asked and ran to the door

test pot

Test

Blade smashed through the ceiling, and scanned the martial artists around him.

Blades Visor opened, exposing a strong laser.

"DESTROY. DESTROY. DESTROY!!!"

the laser fired, setting the dojo on fire.

Suddenly, his other personality kicked in.

"What have I done?" he said, and activated his shoulder fire extinguisher.

He glanced around, and then said "Who. Are. You?"

He heard a singal being transmitted, weakly. An antennae emerged ot of where his ears should be, and he tuned in.

"Activate bomb. Full power."

He was shocked. Where? Where?

He changed his voice quickly, and began to speak in the voice transmitted.

"Cancel bomb activation."

"What?" said a somewhat younger voice.

Hours had passed since the last student left the dojo. Torches flickered in their wall sconces, casting eerie shadows across the bare tatami mats covering the floor. There, in the center of room, a grey shadow stirred, disrupting the stillness into a cacophony of chaos. A flash of steel extended from ebon hands, a katana's blade, as the figure lunged into an impossibly quick thrust, aimed at chest height before him, as his bare right foot came down on the mat in perfect synchronization with an audible slap. He held the pose for a moment, thick beads of sweat cascading down his brow from beneath silvery-white braids, to make that plunge to the mats below. His breath came slowly, but deeply, replenishing his spent energy as he slowly slid his trailing foot forward while withdrawing his blade from his invisible enemy, his feet coming together as his sword slid home into its scabbard at his left hip. His hands fell to his sides, and the drow executed a rigid, low bow toward his opponent, before righting himself once again. That done, he moved quietly toward the benches at the far side of the dojo and recovered a cotton towel, wiping the sweat from his ebon features.

Tika's long, straight raven hair flowed freely, whipping slightly in the wind with her clothing. At least until she got to the dojo, and then she'd leave the wind and autumn leaves for warmth and stillness. Pristine white socks stepped out of zori sandles of pink fabric and straw before she walked slowly down the polished wooden hallway. The girl came to a quiet, unobstrusive stop at the entrance to the training room in the dojo she'd been summoned to, and bowed.
Her purple hakama and white kimono accented the pink silk trim of her lower hiyoko layer, an ornamental display of feminity in what was otherwise men's style garb free of the constrictions of traditional female clothing. Just to the fore of her left hip, a red obi held her fuschia laquered, brass sakura inlaid saya of two matching swords, the katana and wakizashi. The hilts were woven traditionally and tightly in the typical style of tsuka-ito with purple silk, the brass handguard fashionably matching the sakura inlay featured on her saya design. Her nineteen year old youth with the soft colors of her free flowing attire suggested a certain degree of noble delicacy. With the softest of voice and features, she seemed a most unlikely candidate for the role she was about to play.
"I am here. You wanted to practice?"