in the dojo verseXgimetel

[Verse]

Iro was the same age as the boy he was chasing. But they still looked like different creatures. That had determined the lives they were going to lead. In school, and now out of it, since they were recently young adults, Iro had relentlessly tormented him. At first it had been for material things, but eventually it was just for fun. In fact, it had started with this little shit being a momma's boy, and how her training of her students had actually come in the way of Iro's business a bit. So Iro made it his business to bully the son of the local dojo owner. You'd think with a renown martial artist mother, he'd be able to handle himself better. Iro had seen him try, and through watching him grow in skill, had been able to keep up.

Iro himself was tall, large but not bulky. Long limbs. He was a slugger, which was the antithesis to this loser's style. Maybe if the shit had more confidence he'd been able to develop, even in something as useless as judo. But maybe being beaten up often, and robbed regularly, and humiliated in front of his contemporaries, there among his rumored crush, made it impossible to get good at anything. Iro liked to see the potential become stunted and go to waste in his victim. And while Iro's gang involvement required him to practice violence pretty much anywhere, he had this one as a hobby. He never went too far, but he got close a couple of times.

They were running after the victim now. He'd stood up for himself when he encountered Iro and his guys, loitering by a convenience store between jobs to collect money for protection of nearby businesses. Iro had looked as the momma's boy froze. And then they started flinging insults, and even had the guy go into the store and get them a couple of snacks. But when he came out, and Iro insulted his mom and the weak style she was teaching girls around here to defend themselves, the son had spoken up, and thrown the food on the ground. And now they were chasing him. Admittedly, the guy could run pretty fast. That's why Iro had put pressure on him in the past to start moving drugs for them, especially since nobody would suspect a wimp like him to be carrying K's of contraband.

Iro, with is long legs, could keep up rather well, but his gang were falling behind a bit. He saw him turn a corner and when Iro followed, he almost ran into the still waving gates of a traditional dojo. It made Iro stop and look up at the building, and the plaque. Jūdō. So the brat had ran all the way home to mommy? As he stood there and grinned, the others caught up, and he pushed the gates open and came up to the building. They did not take off their shoes as they made their entrance. The inside was a large, well-kept room with mats on the floor and awards on the walls, as well as a few portraits of those who had probably excelled here before, and black and white ones of what he had to assume were the little shit's ancestors.

"Hey! Where the fuck did you go?" he shouted. This was exciting. He had never pushed the brat this far before, and he kind of liked the smell in here. Smelled like women and their sweat. Smelled like dreams he was about to step on. And for some reason blood was moving toward his cock in his blue jeans. He had a leather jacket on, and gray tanktop underneath. He was close to getting his own fine suit made, if he could expand well into this area, and this fucking dojo was part of the problem. It seemed to be symbol of their spirit, and made the citizens a bit harder to break. Iro had his black hair tied back, which made his pointed cheekbones and noble nose more visible in his youthful, mean looking facial features. His light brown eyes, almost red, moved about the place. "Hey, is this a school or a mausoleum? We're guests!" he called, and the others laughed behind him.

 

[Gimetel]

The Takahashi family had always been proud of its long history of mastery of Judo. Over the year with each generation there had been a master to honor the Takahashi name and continue to train both the next generation and those who sought tutelage. Takahashi Kaori was a woman that was proud of her heritage and was a diligent student to the Takahashi way. Though her father was of the Takahashi blood and her mother was a white foreigner, that didn't stop her from embracing her culture. She grew up in Japan, raised by her family's dojo and dreamt of having her own dojo. It was when she met her white foreigner husband that she married and bore her son. By the time her son was around 10 she moved to the west to her husband's land.

Moving to the west was rather...challenging, but Kaori made due with it and was able to work towards her dream. Though she still had her accent, it was still easy to learn english due to it being her mother's native language. After a lot of hard work she had begun to build her dojo, build the place that would be a haven for those seeking to strengthen themself, a place to defend themself. She had always preched to use what she taught for self defense, and she took in girls to her dojo as she had seen how men took advantage of them.

It was an average day as she was in her dojo, dressed in her judo gi with her black obi wrapped around her waist, the judo sensei sat in a seiza position, eyes closed as if meditating. It wasn't until she heard a loud commotion that she rose up to her bare feet and walked on over. Immediately her son darted behind her and she walked on forward with stern eyes. "Guests are those who are welcomed, invited or wanted, you are neither. I ask you leave this place" Kaori spoke out.

 

[Verse]

Iro felt her spirit before he saw her. She looked every bit the master of this dojo that she was. She took herself seriously, even in her uniform. He wondered what she wore underneath those white pajamas. She certainly filled them up well. In this city, there were many like her, with biological ties to Japan. Her hair was the same color as his, the same as the son that relied on her and hid behind her. Iro smiled at the cowardice to use your mother for protection. She came to them without hesitation. Did she really think that whatever skills she had in this traditional sport would help her in face of this many men? A quick glance to the wall and side, and he saw her black and white image over the characters of her name. He liked that name. He had a relative with that name.

"Kaori." he said and looked her up and down. Her posture was good, and she looked powerful where she stood. He snickered at her answer. "Mouthy bitch." he deduced and the others made little sounds that suggested they agreed. Iro much preferred her in the kneeling position she'd started out in. He couldn't wait to get her out of that Gi. He thought he could smell her warm-up sweat from here, or maybe that had been permeated into the walls and tatami floor of this place. Either way he was eager to teach her the same lesson her son had learned.

"You must be mommy dearest." he said and took a few steps back. "I see you're as clueless about manners as your bitch son." He towered over her, so he knew there had to be something special and delusional about this woman that she could still carry herself with such quiet dignity and confidence in his presence. He looked forward to tearing that apart in front of her son who was currently shamefully pushed up against the opposite wall, happy to have his mom between himself and the enemy. "But I guess this is a place of learning. We'll just have to teach you."

The guy who did step up the moment he got the chance was named Akida. He was a large fellow who perhaps was too eager to do bad things, but he had a role to play in Iro's line-up. Nothing quiet about Akida. With his meaty shoulders crammed into a hoddie, and log legs stretching out joggers, he should be enough to scare the Takahashi woman, if she could be scared.

"Usually Iro gets the spoils, but I think I'm gonna try for a first taste. When's the last time you were fucked properly, bitch?" Akida asked before barreling forward, leading with his right hand to grab her. Iro sat down, crossed legged, on the mat, watching, amused. This wouldn't take very long. And if she against all reason could deal with Akida, there were plenty more who would rush in to have their go. Of course Iro would stop them when they got the best of her. He was certainly going to sample her himself.

 

[Gimetel]

The Takahashi line were a clan of honor and pride. They took pride in their skills, and they used those skills to aid others. The weak must be protected and the strong must be the shields. That was some of the beliefs they followed. Takahashi Kaori took great pride in her family and had she not moved from Japan and offered her brother the role of clan head then perhaps she would be the one to bear that mantle. Instead perhaps she had a chance to expand the Takahashi clan here in the west, a branch of the Takahashi line in a way. However her son did not seem to bear the strength of the Takahashi, she still would protect him.

The barefooted woman stood in her gi with a stern look at the newcomers, clearly not students looking for sensei. She wanted them out of her dojo, her dojo like a shrine after all, the walls with portraits of her ancestors that almost stared down upon the actions of the dojo. Anything that happened here must not be tainted. "Laughable that thugs like you dare come into my dojo and speak of etiquette" Kaori said already annoyed that they'd walk into her dojo like they owned the place with their dirty shoes already tainting the mats.

A large burly male began to approach her, but Kaori was not afraid, no, instead she just stood firm and glared at the male. Such vulgar things were not to be taken lightly and as he reached forward she suddenly side stepped and let his momentum carry him forward. Grabbing his wrist, she used his weight to twist him around and with a quick hip throw, she sent him flying over her shoulder, slamming into the ground with a thud.

Turning her eyes towards the rest she narrowed her eyes almost as if a warning was sent through sight.

 

[Verse]

It was almost too easy. She looked good in her little pajama, coming up to them in foot sizes many times smaller than the ones of their shoes. None of the men here had any respect for her bloodline or skill, or the countless hours of training she and her students had invested in this house. Their lot only paid with disrespect, wherever they went. And they put blunt force to any obstacle. Particularly in this kind of setting, where there was only a woman and a weak man to oppose them, they were used to being victorious at a very low cost. Though Iro was impressed by how undeterred she was at them. He was a bit curious how she'd react when Akida got to her.

He ended up straightening his back when he saw her move. It was swift and deft. He didn't gasp like the other men, when Akida was flipped over her body. He was large enough that it looked almost comedic. They would surely give him shit about it later. But for now the problem remained, untouched by their biggest fighter. Iro frowned. She had grounded him like it was nothing. Iro knew enough about this martial art to be aware that it operated like this. He just assumed she wouldn't be so good, that she'd be form over actual skill. His gang didn't really practice any of this stuff. They got their battle training on the street, against other hooligans.

But Kaori had made a mistake. She might have shown strength, but that also meant Iro had noticed her. And that was bad too, if you were a beautiful woman, even if she was old enough to be his mother too, though barely. "This one likes to juggle men and put them on their backs." he said, and his brave little fighters fanned out around her. She looked good in that short robe and those pants, didn't she? Each and every man was sure he'd be the one to take her down.

But they hadn't learned yet. Another attack from a single assailant, from her right side. He was shorter than Akida, stockier. Iro saw it happen, and wondered if the speed of the attack, and maybe its angle, would help. But it wouldn't. And then one from her left. Finally, they wizened up, even without their leader's suggestion, and two came at her at the same time. Iro waited for his turn as he didn't expect them to do what the largest of them couldn't. He had liked seeing her show, he had liked that she presented a challenge. But it was over now.

He shed his leather jacket, and produced himself infront of her, tall and with lean muscles hugged by his tanktop. He missed japan when he looked her over. He wondered if she was athletic underneath that Gi. And what kind of breasts it concealed. No matter her skill, she should be getting tired now. "Impressive. But when women impress me, I usually want to own them." he shared as he darted forward. None of his men had shown finesse, so he feigned to the right and then twisted out of that path in the last second to avoid her grasp, aiming to grab her face with his large palm, and slam the back of her head down onto the mat.