First In, Last Out

Class ran late.

After the teacher answered any questions and the students had changed back to street clothes the group was running even later.  

It had become a thing on Saturday nights after class for the group to head over to the coffee house a few blocks over to hang out and socialize for a bit.

Some of the students had already left to grab some tables for the group, while I finished closing up the dojo for the evening. 

Katana wrapped and tied to the racks on the wall.

Mats wiped and put away.

Windows closed and locked.

One last inspection of the kamiza to make sure everything is in place. 

Lights off and doors locked.

Key in pocket.

First in, last out.

The Fall night air hit cold and crisp as I stepped out on the street and began the walk over to the coffee house. 

A chance to clear my mind from the lessons of the night.

The shop itself was on the corner of the street across from the train station, illuminated by warm lights and a small crowd of people smoking designer cigarettes outside.

Navigating the crowd out front, it was packed inside with most of the dojo scattered throughout the room. Normally we tried to grab a table or two in the back, but one had to get there early, which we had not.

I could see the teacher and two of the senior students sitting in the back with a few others at one of the tables, while a small group of students hung out at the coffee bar. 

Another group was by the back door hanging out near the balcony, while three more just gave up trying to find a seat and were standing in the center of the room.

Not seeing any free seats in the moment, I figured I’d grab something to drink.

The line moved slowly one-by-one, eventually making it to the counter and placing my order for some hot tea. 

When the barista asked if that would be all, I stepped aside and added whatever she will be having as I turned around surprising them.

A hint of shyness when our eyes met.

Two hot teas.

Tea in hand, when a small table opened up by the door, I stepped in to grab it for us and we sat down, proceeding to stare into our cups.

Just when I had through of what to say, or at least something that would sound good enough, a third person interrupted and loudly joined us.

He was the bad boy of the dojo, and my friend, which means he knew he could get away with more than would be allowed, and knowing this he made sure to push the limit any time he could in and out of class. 

The conversation opened with him asking if we both noticed how high his kicks were tonight compared to last week. 

They just smiled at him.

I disagreed with him, pointing out that his kicks were higher last week, and that tonight another student had higher kicks.

Which student?

He wanted a name.

I pointed across the room and he quickly excused himself and left.

In the mean-time I had forgotten what I was going to say, and thankfully they broke the silence. 

Thanking me for the tea, they were curious how I knew they were behind me on the line.

My reply was a half-truth.

As uchi-deshi in the dojo it was my responsibility to notice and account for where every student is when we are all together, I left out the part that I also notice some things more than others.