Temper: Deference (WP Featured) - Excerpt

Chapter 2 - Tempers Are Running High

Short of breath, Lana took off her shoes in the entrance of the dojo. She put down her bag and hurried to kneel and bow to the portrait of O'Sensei, the Founder of aikido, and the small shinto altar affixed on the opposite wall. "Good evening," she told the group of aikidoka who were busy cleaning up the mats.

To her acute relief, their chief instructor wasn't on the tatami yet. She darted to anarrow and smelly locker room to put on her dogi. More a broom locker than anything else, it was the only place with a closing door, and so the women used it to change themselves. The men were doing it in the open, next to the tatami area.

The building itself was old, built in the fiftiesjust after the war, and was one hundred percent made of wood. Without any form of insulation and no actual windows but only mosquito nets, it was freezing cold inside during winter but felt like an oven during summer.

They were next to the huge park of the Jindai-ji Shinto shrine, and with the wildlife that came to life at night on the other side of the walls, it felt like they were in the middle of the jungle, not in one of the largest cities in the world. 

Lana loved the place's timeless feel, and the atmosphere was a big part of the pleasure she found in training. It couldn't get much more Japanese than this. It was a good dojo, with good people training hard to improve themselves at all levels, led by an outstanding instructor. It'd take an earthquake or a near-death experience to make her miss a class.

Not a weak man like Richard nor despicable office politics.

"Ahhh, samuiiiiiiii, it's soooo cold," Naomi complained while dressing up as quickly as possible. One of Lana's kohai, a fellow aikidoka with a lower grade, they had started together. She had gone through two tests over the previous two years, making her a fourth kyu. "I heard it's going to snow tonight, I'm sure inside here as well!"

With a chuckle, Lana tied her white belt, the signshe was still a mudansha–a 'no-rank'practitioner. Shrieking 'samui' all day long was the Japanese national anthem every year whenever temperatures dropped below 15°C. But with its high humidity levels, February in Tokyo was brutal. "Yep, it must be what, 8 to 10°C in here, tops? I can't wait for spring!"

After a double-check of her belt knot, Lana nodded in satisfaction and relief; the flatter, the better... and the safer. Let's not do a repeat of last week. What an embarrassment!

A pair of large pants, a white jacket and a belt – that was all the gear they needed. A martial art based on redirecting an attacker's kinetic energy to throw them or immobilizing them, aikido didn't require special equipment. It also meant no head, chin or chest protection. Getting thrown face-down on the ground could turn extra painful if a hard and unforgiving ball of cotton tried to drill through your navel. Something Lana had found out the previous week. 

The two women jogged back into the main room. The next exam session was coming up, so the mats were crowded in spite of the numbing cold. She sat next to her friend Tim; they exchanged a nod and a warm smile. This wasn't the time for chit-chat but rather for light meditation to clear their minds and center themselves, something she was in critical need of. Silence settled down on their group.

At 7:30pm sharp, Honda sensei stepped upon the tatami. Lana threw him a discreet glance. Broad-shouldered, tall and fit, he looked younger than his fifty-odd years. The traditional aikido uniform worn by practitioners holding a dan rank -- flowing black hakama trousers tied at the waist -- suited him particularly well. Not that Lana would ever confess it aloud.

She quickly looked down to hide her frown. If possible, his mood seemed more somber than usual. While he always favored a scowl, there was no sign of a smile tonight. Fists clenched and unclenched on his lap while he sat in front of them for his usual welcome speech. Something was up.