- Aug 9, 2016
- 5,922
- Gender
- Male
- Pronouns
- Him/Her/Them
- Posting Status
- Daily, Weekly
Masami had been a little suspicious when he'd gotten an offer to train someone for well beyond what his normal fee typically was. How could he not be? Ulterior motives were kind of the name of the game back home, and this kind of obtuse- generosity definitely wasn't the right word but he couldn't think of a better one. But even if he was suspicious, he wasn't about to turn down that money. He could commission the shamisen that he wanted with it, and he wouldn't have to worry about saving up for another full year. If this lady wanted to throw her money away on private fitness training, so be it.
He was already in the warehouse that he generously called a gym. It was decidedly low tech and old school. A boxing ring dominated one side of the room while the other half had a bunch of recycled things re-purposed into training equipment: tires, chains, etc. He liked the aesthetic of using recycled trash to work out with. It allowed for more natural, less formulaic body movements. And best of all, it had all been fairly cheap to get. Masami was in a track suit, the jacket zipped up to his neck and just bulky enough that it hid his physique underneath. He really couldn't put into words why he did this. But it felt right, and it was satisfying to see people look so confused when it turned out that he was, in fact, really fit.
Sitting on a stool in his office, he pulled out one of his flasks while he waited. The cool burn of the alcohol and the chilled tea relaxed him as he waited. He really hoped that this wasn't some prank and that he'd shown up on his rare day off for nothing.
He was already in the warehouse that he generously called a gym. It was decidedly low tech and old school. A boxing ring dominated one side of the room while the other half had a bunch of recycled things re-purposed into training equipment: tires, chains, etc. He liked the aesthetic of using recycled trash to work out with. It allowed for more natural, less formulaic body movements. And best of all, it had all been fairly cheap to get. Masami was in a track suit, the jacket zipped up to his neck and just bulky enough that it hid his physique underneath. He really couldn't put into words why he did this. But it felt right, and it was satisfying to see people look so confused when it turned out that he was, in fact, really fit.
Sitting on a stool in his office, he pulled out one of his flasks while he waited. The cool burn of the alcohol and the chilled tea relaxed him as he waited. He really hoped that this wasn't some prank and that he'd shown up on his rare day off for nothing.