It had been quite some time since Juri had returned to the family home in South Korea after her stint in S.I.N., and she was not planning to stay long. Too many things had happened over the years for her to be welcomed back without a fuss. A life of cruelty and violence had made her known to the world, and while the major organizations of Shadaloo and S.I.N. had fallen by her hand, no-one saw the once pride and joy of the Han family as a returning hero. They saw her as a witch passing through their hamlet, terrified that destruction would follow her footsteps. Juri both reveled in and despised the looks of fear and scorn in the faces of her countrymen, knowing that the blood on her hands was both a trophy and a curse she could not wash away.
Juri wanted to return home only to grab a few things before taking her life elsewhere. She didn't belong in her family home anymore, nor did she belong in the same city that her father tried to keep safe. It would be better for everyone that she left as soon as possible, but the Korean woman couldn't help but linger. She ignored all painful relics of her past as she made her rounds, collecting clothes and anything useful for the future. When she stumbled upon her old Taekwondo uniform, however, she hesitated to do anything else.
She wasn't one to dwell on the past, but when Juri looked upon that old uniform she just had to call back a fond memory. She remembered the unease and doubt she overcame when her feet touched the fighting mats. She remembered how exciting it was to be locked in combat with another, and how her blood spiked with intoxicating adrenaline when she was on the verge of winning. But most of all, she remembered the looks of pride and congratulations on her parents' faces, especially her instructor who never stopped believing in her.
Scratching her chin, the Korean skirmisher wondered about the dojo she had spent so much time at as a child. If her memory served right, her old instructor was still teaching Taekwondo there. As much as Juri wanted to pack her things and set out to start a new life somewhere away from prying eyes, she had a strong desire to pop in and pay her respects to the person who taught her how to fight. She owed the old man that much. And so, after making sure she had everything packed and ready for when she left South Korea, she decided to step out and head towards the old dojo.
The dojo was, as it had been for years, quaint and welcoming to all types, its entrance open to receive students and onlookers alike. The humble building was overshadowed by the commercial structures on either side in the heart of the city, yet the dojo managed to stand out with its unique decorations and appearance. Even though the dojo itself was small in comparison to the buildings around it, it was imposing to any who looked upon it. Signs bid welcome to those seeking knowledge while pictures and scribbles left by graduates paid tribute to their experiences there. It was the traditional dojo for Taekwondo, but for Juri Han, it was a home away from home.
She gave a rare smile as she looked upon the dojo before sliding open its doors and stepping inside. The smell of incense trying to cover up the stench of sweat was absent that day, as were the usual fare of students. The red and blue fighting mats looked pristine to the Korean, and as she stepped onto them, she stretched and wiggled her toes in glee. Just about everything was as it used to be. Even the walls, decorated with many signs and figures helping students with their form and styles, were unchanged. Juri glanced about for another soul, yet upon finding no-one but herself, she furrowed her brow.
As far as she could recall, there were usually a few dedicated students in the dojo at all times of the day. They would be meditating on their form, practicing kicks, and searching for their fellow peers in the hopes of sparing. At this time of the day, there should have been at least somebody kicking the standing bag or making a racket with all their grunting. Juri ventured into the locker rooms to search for students, but all she found were rows of empty lockers. It was as if the dojo was obsolete and nobody cared to frequent it anymore.
"Hello?" Juri called out as she returned to the dojo floor. "Anyone home?"
Silence was her only answer. Unless everyone had thought that Juri would come back to her childhood dojo and ran for their lives before she arrived, there was no good reason she could come up with for everyone's disappearance. She scoffed and started to make her way towards one of the standing bags when she heard a door open behind her. Turning around, she saw an elderly woman exiting the dojo's office before stopping in her tracks. Looking up, she stared at Juri for a moment before squinting.
"Who is that?" she asked. Using an old cane, the woman took a few steps forward before widening her eyes. "Could it be? Is that... Is that you, little Han? Little Juri Han?"
"Not so little anymore," Juri answered with a bemused shrug. "But yeah. It's me. Who are you?"
"You remember me, yes?"
It was then that Juri looked a little closer. The kindly posture, the blunt expressions, and the welcoming aura was all too familiar. This woman wasn't her instructor, but she was very well connected with him. As the elderly woman smiled, Juri found herself smiling back.
"Mrs. Tong?" The older woman nodded. "You have no idea how nice it is to see a friendly face around here."
"It is good to see you as well, my dear," Tong replied. "It's been... ten or eleven years since I last saw you. You've changed since then, and in more ways than one."
Juri nodded at that. Ten years ago she had been forced through an agonizing encounter with Shadaloo resulting in the loss of her left eye and her parents. In the trials that were laid ahead of her from that fateful day, she had to make many hard decisions that would define her and her life for years to come. She desired vengeance, and she would stop at nothing to see Shadaloo's mastermind dead at her feet. A lot of people had gotten hurt because of her, and some were even killed. In the end, Juri had accomplished her goal and exacted her revenge, but she had lost ten years of her life that she would never get back.
She wasn't that little girl who bloodied all the noses and gave her parents a run for their money anymore.
"I remember when you won your first professional tournament. Your parents were so proud of you that day."
"Yeah... Those were good times," Juri replied after some hesitation.
"Good memories indeed. We needn't focus on anything else in the past but those." Leave it to an old woman to give out sound wisdom. Tong steadied herself on her cane as her smile faded. "Why did you come back?"
After all the media on the destruction of Shadaloo and S.I.N., Juri figured that anyone who paid attention to the news knew both who she was and what she had done. She wouldn't put it past an old woman like Tong to be kept in the dark. If the woman harbored any resentment towards the returning Han prodigy, she did not show it. Perhaps she didn't care, or perhaps she was just putting up a front. Juri wouldn't think any less of Tong if it was the latter.
"I'm not here to stay, if that's what you're asking," Juri replied with a nonchalant shrug. "I just popped in to grab a few things at the house before going... somewhere, anywhere. I'll figure it out when I get on the road again."
"I meant why did you come back here to the dojo, Juri," Tong sighed.
"I wanted to see an old friend again. Is he around?"
The two women shared a length of silence together before Juri felt the weight of what she just said come down on her. Tong exhaled and solemnly shook her head.
"Your instructor... My husband... He passed away two years ago, Juri."
Juri felt her heart skip a beat at that revelation before she looked away from Tong out of embarrassment.
"How did he die?" she asked, her voice low.
"Cancer."
Slumping her shoulders, Juri turned back to Tong and shot her a look of sympathy. It had been some time since she felt for her fellow man with emotions other than anger and disgust. Despite her reckless aggression, her abrasive personality, and her dangerous background, she was still human, and she cared for those close to her. Knowing that the instructor who saw her through her training had died was disheartening enough, but Juri found even greater woe in knowing that she had been off on a bloody violent streak in S.I.N. and was ignorant of his death.
"He was a good man. A good friend to both you and your father," Tong continued.
"He put up with me," Juri retorted. "Not many people could do that. I owe him a lot."
"You owe him nothing. He would have been overjoyed to know you were still alive."
Juri smiled at that.
"Good to know. Well, since he's not here anymore, I think I should get going again." Juri turned to leave, although with some reluctance. "It's been good seeing-"
"Juri, wait," Tong exclaimed. She hobbled forward and looked up at Juri with pleading eyes. "Before you go, there's something you should see."
"What is it?"
Mrs. Tong only beckoned with her hand before turning around to head back to the office.
Curious, Juri followed the older woman into the office and took a look around. Two stiff and uncomfortable discount chairs were placed in front of a small desk with one side pressed against the wall. Behind the desk was the only comfortable chair in the dojo, although it was hardly used by the active instructor. Bits and pieces of equipment like straps, pads, and standing bags occupied a corner of the room while a few filing cabinets flanked either sides of the door. The walls were the same color as they were back in the main room, only this time they were more decorated with framed certificates and pictures of better days.
Memories upon memories greeted the Korean fighter as she looked at the pictures on the walls. She could see a family portrait of the Tongs behind the desk, its frame embroidered with silk and touches of blue. Juri hummed in thought as she passed the portrait by only to look upon plenty of class photos occupying the far wall. As Mrs. Tong began to rummage about in the desk, Juri traced her fingers across the frame of one class picture and looked for the girl with the violet eyes. Finding her standing out from all the rest with a proud smirk, Juri copied the expression.
"Atta girl," she praised.
"Here we are."
Juri looked over at Mrs. Tong and saw her place a sheet of crisp white paper down on the desk. The margins were decorated with intricate patterns and the writing was filled with the grandeur of the author.
"What is this?" Juri asked as she picked up the paper and began to read.
"Many years ago, my husband felt himself growing older. He expressed a desire to pass on something to the next generations, and while he seemed content with teaching the young how to fight, he made plans to leave behind things for those he cared about." Mrs. Tong hovered over Juri's shoulder and caught her surprised expression. "What you hold is his will. He left our children with much of his money and gave me whatever comfort I would need after his departure, but to your family, the ones who so unselfishly supported him and his dojo..."
"He left my father the dojo," Juri finished, her eyes downcast.
"He wished to leave it to the Han family, and I support him," Tong continued.
Juri dropped the paper to the desk and glared at the other woman out of the corner of her eye.
"There is no Han family anymore. There's just me."
Tong reached for the paper as she sighed. She narrowed her eyes at the stubborn child and pressed the paper into her hand.
"And as the only one left, he leaves the dojo to you. It's what he would have wanted."
The Korean assassin looked back at the paper in her hands before looking off into the distance. Her instructor had left her family the dojo, but since they were all dead, the deed to the building belonged to the person who desired it the least. Juri had no desire to own her own dojo, let alone deal with the day to day operations. She did not want to stay in Korea for very long, but now that she had new property, she found herself conflicted. As much as she wanted to leave, she felt that she had an obligation to her instructor to carry on his teachings, and even more, she felt that she had an obligation to herself.
This could be a new direction for me, Juri thought. It was something to do, and it would allow her to continue her career as a Taekwondo practitioner. Yet, Juri knew that the city was against her. They were already nervous at having their pride and joy return as a killer, and only time would tell before their nervousness turned to hostility. Every step would be watched by thousands of voluntary spies, and Juri would hardly feel comfortable in the place of her birth. The whole problem required more than a few minutes of thought, so Juri turned to Tong to let her know that she would think about it, and that she promised nothing.
Leaving the instructor's will on his desk, his most valuable student walked out with a new burden on her mind.