Even within the first hour after sunset, the desert sky above wore a shroud of stars. Justin had overslept his nap by hours, having fallen asleep in the late afternoon. The heat from the sunlight made it difficult for him to sleep at the hour he was put down for rest. So when he awoke, Justin immediately ventured out on his own, off toward the cloister.
The cloister surrounded a place of reflection, an open-air courtyard. The desert climate did not allow much of a garden to grow, but whatever greenery managed to survive was neatly outlined with garden stones. There were flat, stone structures which provided places to sit or bask peacefully in the sun; or more appropriate for this time of the day, beneath the stars.
This place was usually silent. Tonight, however, was an exception. The sound of jazzy, upbeat music drew Justin further away from the guest dormitories. The courtyard was barren save for one single person: the monk who had caught Justin climbing up onto the casket. Justin darted from column to column in the cloister, only halting behind one when he had approached close enough. He hugged his body against the column before peeking out, observing the monk. To the beats of that music, the monk threw punches. One swift strike after the other, this monk tirelessly practiced his routine while the music played.
Justin's attention moved from the monk and toward that source of music. It was a record player set out on one of the stone benches, the electric cord stretched across the cloister and past an open window. He'd never seen such a thing before in his life, as the music was foreign to his ears as well. For a moment, he looked back to the monk… and then, wandered closer to that source of music. He gripped the backrest and wiggled his sandals off his feet, climbing up to walk across the seat of the bench. The youngster sat himself down next to the record player, watching the platter rotate beneath the needle, which somehow produced music through a pair of speakers. Set nearby was a crate with records filed away within cardboard sleeves. Justin scooted himself closer, and started picking through some of the records. Some of those sleeves were quite worn around the edges… but the images on the sleeves were interesting, at least to Justin.
"Justin Law," The monk spoke up after his final punch was thrown. The sudden way he was addressed caused Justin to jump and lose his grip on that record sleeve, which dropped back into the crate. "I didn't see you at dinner. You weren't too busy getting yourself into trouble, were you?"
It seemed like Justin was building quite the reputation for himself. Having settled down from the scare, his curious fingers moved through those records once again.
"No, I slept for a long time," He answered honestly for once. The monk strolled over to the bench and sat down near Justin. For a moment, the boy looked up toward the monk. This man was quite tall, and somewhat unkempt. It looked as if the man's sandy blonde hair hadn't seen the business end of some scissors for awhile. It was obvious he hadn't shaved in an equal amount of time, either. In this light, he couldn't quite tell the man's eye color, probably hazel or light brown. Still, it was obvious the man spent a great deal of time outside: his skin was tinted a rich shade of tan.
"It must be boring for you," The monk mentioned, "as we have not had a guest your age for some time." He was somewhat sympathetic to the child's disruptive behavior, as there wasn't much else around for him to get into: other than trouble. The monk's cackle sounded like shards of glass grinding through a cement mixer, as he reached over to set a hand upon Justin's head, ruffling his fingers within his curly hair. "But, you don't have to worry now. All the priests have returned to their homes, there's nobody besides us monks and sisters here!"
Justin hummed a monosyllabic response while reaching up for his own head, trying to push that hand away. Once the monk drew his hand away, he went back to picking his way through the records.
The monk inquired, "Do you like music?" To this question, Justin lifted his shoulder to shrug. But if this meant anything to make up for such an indecisive answer,
"I like the music I hear now." One of the record sleeves he'd found was coated in dust. Justin wrinkled his nose briefly and moved to brush his hand clean on the seat of that bench.
"The other monks don't like all the noise in the dormitories. It's something of a pain to bring everything out here. But on nights such as these…" That monk paused to glance toward the night sky. "It is well worth going through such trouble." He smiled after looking away from the sky, lifting his right hand and holding it out to Justin. "My name is Luke. It is nice to meet you, Justin."
A little surprised by the introduction, Justin stared at that palm before offering his own right hand. Luke shook his hand… and then, held on tightly. What happened next was unexpected, at least for Justin. A blade, flat and razor sharp, manifested from the youngster's right forearm. Whatever light was cast from the fixtures which lined the cloister glinted against that metallic blade. Startled, Justin pulled his hand away, shuffling backward until his body met with the backrest.
"Ah hah. So Justin IS a weapon," and this confirmed the monk's previous speculations. Luke, once an accomplished meister within the ranks of Shibusen, knew the boy had only partially transformed. Simply the fact that their wavelengths cooperated well enough was incredible… but what kind of weapon was Justin? That blade looked like it belonged in a butcher's block, but if he was a knife, wouldn't his whole arm transform into the blade? All speculation at this point.
Once Justin was sure the monk wasn't angry or disgusted by this transformation, he returned at ease. The blade sunk back within his forearm. Before he could open his mouth to say another word, the music had screeched to a sudden stop.
A middle-aged woman dressed in a black habit stood in the cloister, wondering just what she'd stepped on: but soon realized it was an electrical cord. She frowned, and looked off to where the cord lead to. "Brother Luke," she addressed him while stepping into the courtyard, picking up Justin's sandals off the ground. Luke raised his hand and waved lazily, without a word to accompany the greeting.
Justin seemed excited enough to see this sister, as it meant he was not going to miss out on dinner after all. He waited until she set down the sandals before him on the ground, and took her hand while he slid off the bench and into those pair of sandals. Without so much as a goodbye, he left with that sister as they walked down the cloister toward the refectory. However, Justin looked over his shoulder to cast a look back at Luke. Surely, this would not be the last time he'd see the man.