| RangerAidan |
01-20-2004 10:56 PM |
Kirin stood out on top of the weathered old dojo, taking no mind of the now subfreezing temperature, and feeling rather refreshed by the arctic wind whipping through his ratty t-shirt. He didn't hear the explosions outside, as Master Norakama had him in deep meditation, but now, he noticed the faint light from the burning wreckage and picked up his staff. He made his way to the site of the battle via the rooftops, carefully peering over an edge to see police cruisers, turning around in time to see a bit away, back another block, someone walking out of Monty's bar. Monty's bar is closed right now he thought. Not that he went there often, but he'd been by often enough over the past 9 years to know the place should be closed.
He hopped lightly off the building to the side on the alleyway, and walked over to the bar entrance, noting the man who left, as he moved silently down the street away from him. Another gust cut the air like an icy knife, and he thought, why do I even wear shirts?
Carrying his staff like a walking stick, he pushed open the door to see what had just transpired.
Every day for the past 9 years, the kind, but stern master had taught Kirin many skills for survival on the street. He took him in as an orphaned elemental child, and raised him as a son. He had shown him how to fight like the old grandmasters back on Earth. He ahd helped him focus and control his gift. But, upon passing through the door and laying ice blue eyes on the girl wiping down the bar, he froze (Terrible pun not intended). Master Norakama may have touched on the subject when drunk on saki a few times, but he had never told him anything useful about girls.
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