Act 1: Act in accordance with time and change.
Gratitude
The gears of the adding machine clicked and whirred loudly as King's delicate fingers glided across the keypad. She tore off the paper output from the calculator, comparing the sum to her accounting chits, and she smiled; at this rate her night club, La Illusion, would turn a decent profit this month. She got up from her small desk, inside her small office, and yawned. To appease her aching muscles, hungry for movement, she propped a heel on top of the file cabinet and exhaled as she sunk into a standing full forward leg splits. A knock on her half-open door grabbed her attention.
Sally, one of her waitresses, entered. "What is 'joo-yoon-die'?"
"You mean Juyondai," King said, correcting her. King switched legs and sunk into another splits. "Who's asking?"
"This... intense guy at the bar," Sally answered thoughtfully. "I told him it wasn't on the wine list, but he insists."
King's eyes narrowed in her direction. "Was he rude?"
"No, it was like... he looked right through me, you know?"
Donning her signature tuxedo blazer, she strode past her, saying, "I'll take care of it."
King's first stop was the kitchen. She unlocked the special refrigerator and selected the flask marked with inscrutable writings in a foreign language. She didn't understand Japanese, but she recognized the label identifying the spirit known as Juyondai. She met Sally on the main floor, and she directed King to the man sitting at the far end of the bar. King gasped audibly and stilled when she recognized the man who had soundly defeated her at the tournament last week.
What is he doing here?
She almost didn't recognize Ryo in regular street clothes. But, the way he sat on the barstool—with his deliberate posture and perfect body alignment—made him stand out from the other patrons. Or, maybe it were the muscles that rippled underneath his shirt as he removed his leather jacket.
Gripping the flask tightly in her hands, she approached Ryo from behind the bar. He regarded her calmly as she uncorked the bottle in front of him. "We don't get a lot of requests for saké, Mr. Sakazaki." She retrieved a wineglass and slowly poured the spirit. "You'll have to forgive that we lack the accoutrements to serve it properly."
"Not a problem." He took a sip and gave an approving nod. "Have you ever tried saké, King-san?"
"Once... We have to special order this stuff because our chef likes to use it for cooking a particular dish. We certainly don't advertise it, so I'm curious as to how you found your way here?"
"The owner of the Pao Pao Café pointed me in your direction."
King eyed Ryo suspiciously. "I see. Please tell Richard Meyer that I'll never divulge who my sake supplier is—" she smiled "—no matter how many cute guys he sends over."
Ryo's brow furrowed, nonplussed. "Do you flirt with all your patrons, King-san?"
She shrugged and nodded in the direction of the empty jar on the counter. "I need the tips. Besides, you've already seen my boobs."
He laughed heartily. "My actions as a spy were unintentional. Actually, I came by to thank you for returning my uwagi."
King folded her arms. "You could've just asked for me, instead of freaking out my bar maid."
"Well, I wasn't sure if you would receive me, considering..."
"I understand." She leaned in, resting her elbows on the counter. "I wanted to deliver it personally, but you looked busy."
"You shouldn't have gone through the trouble of washing it."
Her smile turned into a smirk. "Washing it was more for my benefit, I think."
"Ouch." He blushed, his hand combing through the blond hair on the back of his head. "Now you sound like my sister Yuri."
"So, the Japanese lady I met was your sister?" She said, pursing her lips, and without thinking asked, "But, you're not Japanese, are you?"
Ryo returned to nursing his glass. "What's wrong? I don't look Japanese enough for you?"
"You have to admit that you guys don't normally come with blond hair, and you have European features." She bit her lower lip, realizing her faux pas. "No offense."
His eyes remained gentle towards her. "None taken. My mother was American; Yuri takes after the Sakazaki side—unlike me."
"Is that why your gi is bright orange?" Her smirk returned. "Are you a rebel?"
He snorted. "I was hoping you wouldn't notice that."
Her expression was deadpan. "It was difficult to spot considering all the different colors traditional karate uniforms come in: for example, there's white, and... white, and then there's the rare and exotic... white..."
"I don't think I want to tell you now." Ryo was visibly embarrassed. "I thought bartenders were supposed to be good listeners?"
"Usually I am... except for the customers who rip my blouse apart in a room full of half-drunken men of questionable repute." She stifled a giggle as Ryo almost spat out his drink.
"Now you're going to play the guilt card on me?"
"Oui." She continued to smile without shame. "That is what you get for luring me here under a false pretense."
"Very well." Ryo finished his drink and continued, "When I was a kid, the day before my green-belt test, I threw my orange belt into the washing machine along with my formal gi."
She snorted, drawing the obvious conclusion. "So, the orange dye from the belt bled into the uniform?"
He nodded in answer. "Father was angry; he always told us that a karateka should never wash his belt."
"So, why did you?"
"I wanted everything to be perfect for my test—that included my belt." Ryo shrugged. "As punishment, my dad made me take the test in the orange-stained gi."
"That was mean of him."
"It turned out for the best, actually; I not only passed, but I was awarded 'Best of Test', so I took it as a sign. Ever since then, I've dyed my formal gi orange for good luck."
King blinked. "That... has got to be... the silliest story I have ever heard." She bit the knuckle of her curled index finger in a futile attempt to stop her genuine laughter.
Still blushing, Ryo rested his forehead in his hand. "I'm pleased that my childhood trauma amuses you."
She smiled. Mignon...
He smiled. Kawaii...
She bit her lip. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to laugh." She leaned in again. "You know, Ryo, if you really want to make it up to me, you could teach me that finishing move of yours."
"Aha! You seek the secrets of Kyokugenryu Karate," he said, and for the first time, with an assertive voice. "Now who's been operating under false pretenses?"
She pouted. "I do your laundry, give you my good saké, and all I get in return are accusations?"
He snorted. "I'm sorry." He reached into his pocked and pulled out his bill fold. "How much do I owe you for the saké and the pleasant conversation?"
"It's on the house. In spite of your slander, I am in a good mood and feel like celebrating." With that, she refilled his glass.
He raised it in toast. "What are we celebrating?"
"Someone did something very nice for someone I care about."
Ryo's eyes widened. "D-do you know who it was?" He nervously took a sip.
"No," King answered, oblivious to Ryo's subtle change in demeanor. "Frankly, it has me a little baffled: people don't do nice things out of the goodness of their hearts without expecting something in return."
"Well, you've been 'nice' for letting me monopolize your time." He glanced at his watch. "Tell you what: If you still want a private lesson by the time I get back, the first one's free."
She arched a curious eyebrow. "Get back from where?"
"Japan." He sighed. "I'll be gone for a whole year."
"When?"
"I'm leaving in the morning."
King frowned. "That's a long time to keep a girl waiting."
He smiled weakly and rose from the stool. "Thanks again, King-chan." On his way out, he left a ten-spot in the tip jar.
"Don't be a stranger, Ryo."
King started to wipe the counter, using it as an excuse to stare at Ryo as he left the room. Distracted, she did not notice when Sally came upon her and almost yelped when her employee spoke.
"So, who was he?"
"He's nobody," King replied. "Just someone I ran into the other day."
Sally frowned, unsatisfied, and she pressed her. "You two seemed like you were getting along well."
King shrugged. "He's... not what I expected."
King proceeded to wash Ryo's glass. Using the busywork as a shield to deflect Sally's scrutiny. It seemed to be working, until Sally's sister and fellow co-worker, Elizabeth, happened by.
"What's going on here?" Elizabeth asked as she placed some used dishes in the sink.
"King is totally into this hot blond guy," her sister replied.
Elizabeth tilted her head quizzically. "I thought King was asexual?"
"Asexual?" King heaved an exasperated snort. "Just because my life doesn't revolve around men?"
Sally shook her head. "That didn't stop her from giving him all the signals—"
"What is this nonsense?" King retorted. "I gave no signals."
"Then why were you giving him the wide-eyed pouty-lip treatment?" Sally replied, illustrating with an exaggerated pout of her lips and a fluttering of her lashes.
"And I could hear her laughing at his jokes from clear across the room," Elizabeth added.
"It's called 'comforting the customer', something you two should be doing right now instead of gossiping." King regained her composure as she dried the wineglass, and she replaced it in the glass rack over the bar. "Besides, I don't date fighters."
"Even muscley fighters with nice butts?" Sally said with a broad grin.
King rolled her eyes. "Especially muscley fighters with nice butts—Er... never mind."
Flustered, King turned on her heels and left the bar area, ignoring the twins' giggles.