Why were hotels in Cleveland so dang expensive?
It wasn't even a nice town.
They'd gone to every diner, every laundromat, everywhere someone should have been able to recommend a place to stay. And they'd come up dry.
"Pull over here," Sam instructed, pointing to an unassuming row of buildings. This neighborhood was substantially too nice to have accommodations in their price range. But Dean went ahead and parked the car. At this point he'd try anything.
"See," Sam gestured out the window at the bright pink lettering on the storefront window. It read Chiang Mai Thai Kickboxing in large capital letters, with smaller text beneath indicating "Muay Thai Kickboxing, Sanda, Tai Chi Bagua, NO Children's Classes."
"Martial artists are always broke," Dean agreed as he got out of the car.
The lights were on, so they let themselves in. The gym was hot. Really hot. And it smelled like incense. There weren't mats, but hard wooden floors and little equipment but for a row of heavy bags suspended from the ceiling. At the far side of the room a middle aged man was kicking one of the bags, sweat drenching his gray t-shirt. A young woman watched his form, straight ebony hair pulled into a tight bun, clad in a faded black Case Western Reserve t-shirt and a pair of bright, Aztec print shorts. She shifted her focus when Sam and Dean came in.
"You two from that Sanda gym down in Minneapolis?" She asked, "The guys that Rick sent to train with me?"
"We're…uh…" Sam tried to form a coherent thought.
"Absolutely," Dean agreed immediately. She'd hate him for it later, but one look at that physique and he needed to get to know her better.
"Keep working those leg kicks Martin," the young woman said, crossing the gym and leaving her pupil, "When you've done two hundred switch to checks."
"I'm Ji-a Anchali," she said, shaking hands, "Nice to meet you. If you'll take off your shoes I can show you upstairs."
"I'm Sam and this is my brother Dean," Sam replied.
Then they both took off their shoes and followed her through a locked door up a narrow stairway. At the top of the steps was a bright and spacious apartment, spanning the space over the gym. The walls were white, the decor minimal but for a bright tapestry of an elephant hung along the living room wall.
"I've only got the one spare room," Jia said, dropping her keys on the kitchen table, "But I have some extra blankets and I'll make up the couch. I get off at six tonight. I'll make dinner and we can talk about your training plans then."
And with that she left them.
Dean and Sam just stood there for a minute, frozen. It was Sam who broke the silence.
"So what are we gonna tell her?" He asked, "I don't know what sanda is."
"Let's get through tonight and we'll play it by ear in the morning," Dean said, "I'm sure we can bluff our way through it. We know how to fight don't we?"
"I guess," Sam replied with a shrug, taking off his coat and hanging it on a wooden peg by the door.
"You want the bedroom?" Dean offered, dropping his bags at the foot of the couch.
"Sure," Sam agreed happily, "Thanks!"
Sam made his way through the short hallway to the guest room Ji-a had indicated. And was thoroughly surprised to find it was painted pink, and the walls were entirely plastered with k-pop posters. It was a stark contrast to the minimalist white throughout the rest of the apartment, and Sam couldn't wait to hear the story behind it.
Sam and Dean were neck deep in research when Ji-a came back upstairs at six.
At some point in the last two hours she'd discarded the t-shirt, and had it draped around her neck like a towel. The slick bun was looser now and she was dripping sweat. The beginnings of a bruise stood out against the pale skin of her right shoulder.
"You okay?" Dean asked as she came in, getting to his feet.
"Yeah," Ji-a sounded confused.
"The bruise on your shoulder," Sam pointed out.
"Oh," she said, "Uneven pairs in my last class. And lucky me we've got a couple of guys fight training. One of them kicked me pretty good. I'll get some tiger balm on it tonight. Thanks for your concern though. Just give me twenty minutes to shower and I'll make up the couch and cook us some dinner. I appreciate your patience. Wednesdays are crazy around here. I don't usually coach midday, but I've got a couple retired guys who like to come in the afternoons."
Dinner was, surprising.
Dean poked at his plate while Ji-a drilled him with a stare that could have bent iron.
"You're gonna want to eat," she said, "Tomorrow's not gonna be easy."
"What is it?" He asked, trying to sound curious rather than horrified.
"Eggplant, tofu, sweet potato vermicelli," Ji-a said, "It's good for you. Lots of calcium in the tofu. Helps with bone conditioning."
"I…um…" Dean stammered.
"So Ji-a," Sam cut in, "I noticed the guest room is…a little more exuberantly decorated than the rest of the house."
"Oh I'm sorry about that," she replied, "My sister moved out three weeks ago. I am planning on repainting and taking down those posters. Just haven't gotten around to it. My kids have midterms right now so I've been pretty slammed."
"Midterms?" Dean asked, trying to convince himself that if he just didn't think to hard about it the tofu couldn't possibly taste that bad.
"Yeah," Ji-a said, "I don't know how much Rick told you. I coach here, but I also teach at Case Western. Anthropology and comparative religion. I drew the short straw and I'm teaching a couple one hundred level classes right now. Which means I have eighty-three papers on the Hare Krishnas I need to grade in the next six days."
Ji-a chuckled.
"But anyways, I promised to talk training," she said, "How many years you two been at it?"
"Twenty-eight," Dean replied automatically.
Ji-a frowned.
"So you did what, karate as a kid?" She asked.
"Something like that," Sam replied, "But we got into…sanda…more recently. At college actually."
"Okay," Ji-a seemed to accept that answer, "That's great. We'll start tomorrow at six - I usually run 10k - then class at seven and we'll do a private session after. I've got work-work from nine to four but we'll meet up after and see where the evening takes us. Sound good?"
Sam and Dean exchanged a worried glance.
"Problem?" Ji-a asked.
"That sounds great," Sam replied.
"In that case if you two can tidy the kitchen I'm gonna go grade papers," Ji-a said, "Thank you!"
And with that she disappeared into her room.
"We are so screwed," Dean said.