Chapter 9 - The Junkyard Dojo
Tessa refused to let Mason walk into Old River Foundry with Tin Skin and sarcasm.
“You have one day,” she said.
“So we’re prioritizing sarcasm?”
“We’re prioritizing not dying.”
They trained in her workplace: a fabrication shop owned by her uncle, currently closed for renovation.
Steel tables.
Welding curtains.
Scrap bins.
Stacks of damaged industrial parts.
To Mason, it looked like a buffet.
The system agreed.
[HIGH-VALUE TRAINING ENVIRONMENT]
Tessa made him fight a hanging tire.
He hit it.
It swung back and hit him in the face.
She nodded.
“Excellent. The tire has established dominance.”
“You’re a gifted teacher.”
“You’re a gifted target.”
For four hours she taught him the basics cultivator children supposedly learned at twelve.
Stance.
Breathing.
Circulation.
How not to lock his knees while channeling qi.
How to identify someone gathering force before they struck.
Most importantly, how to lose without getting permanently injured.
Mason objected to that lesson.
Tessa hit him with a padded steel rod.
He reconsidered.
During breaks, he repaired discarded tools around the shop.
A cracked vise offered CLAMPING FORCE.
A bent welding cart offered WEIGHT DISTRIBUTION.
A dead impact wrench offered TORQUE BURST.
His slots were limited.
He selected WEIGHT DISTRIBUTION.
[TRAIT ACQUIRED: LOAD BALANCE I]
[CONTROL +2]
[STRENGTH EFFICIENCY IMPROVED]
His movements changed immediately.
Not stronger.
Smarter.
He could align weight through his hips and legs instead of fighting everything with his arms.
The next time the tire swung, Mason stepped in, turned his body, and redirected it past him.
Tessa nodded.
“Better.”
The system chimed.
[PERSONAL PATH DESIGN: 58%]
At midnight, Mason was still training.
Tessa finally tossed him a bottle of water.
“Why are you doing this?” she asked.
“What?”
“Staying.”
He understood the real question.
Why not run?
Mason sat on the floor.
“My dad repaired city buses for thirty-two years. When he got sick, the company replaced him before his locker was empty.”
Tessa said nothing.
“My mom moved south after he died. I stayed because I thought if I worked hard enough, eventually life would stop treating me like temporary labor.”
He laughed quietly.
“Turns out life did not receive the memo.”
Tessa sat across from him.
“So this is revenge?”
“No.”
Mason looked around the shop.
“I’m tired of leaving every time somebody richer says a thing belongs to them.”
The system opened a panel.
[PATH INSIGHT]
[RECLAIMER PRINCIPLE IDENTIFIED]
WHAT IS ABANDONED MAY BE RESTORED.
WHAT IS STOLEN MAY BE RETURNED.
WHAT IS BROKEN MAY CHOOSE ITS NEXT PURPOSE.
[PERSONAL PATH DESIGN: 81%]
Mason’s breath caught.
Tessa felt the qi shift.
Her expression changed.
“You’re close.”
“To what?”
“Your first true technique.”
The shop lights flickered.
Every discarded object in the building vibrated once.
Then a wrench flew off a table and landed in Mason’s hand.
He stared at it.
Tessa whispered, “That’s not normal.”
The system responded.
[CORRECT.]
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