text: [Themes: sci-fi, humor]
  
  A wide dirt path makes the walk easy enough, but it sure takes a long time. Eventually, the waning yellow sunlight forces you to blaze a small distance off-trail to fall asleep. You knew it was going to be a while, but you had no idea it would take this long! And for the amount of dojos built everywhere, you'd expect to have passed at least one person on the road. Must be a slow day.
  
  Day comes, cold and chilling. Frost covers the ground, glimmering in thin sheets of ice. You shiver, your breath puffing into the air, and look up. A massive cloud blocks the sun, but it drops no rain or hail. Unusual, but you aren't going to question the weather on a foreign planet. You begin walking, only to quickly discover you're barefoot!
  
  "Where the fuck are my shoes," you mutter angrily. "Who would steal a man's shoes!?" There is no response, only the constant shock of the cold with every step along the way. You begin to climb the mesa.
  
  Half a day goes by. The sun overhead helps with the chill of the cloud, even though it still looks like dusk outside. You begin to hear what sounds like a man running and breathing loudly, clearly fatigued. You stand out of the way as he rounds one of the switchbacks behind you, coming into view.
  
  He's wearing your shoes.
  
  > let him pass
  You figure he's going to keep running past, but he pivots right in front of you and stops to catch his breath.
  
  "Hey. That was. Quite a run. I found the man who stole your shoes and. Took them back for you." He hands over your shoes. "Sorry I had to use them," he says after catching his breath, "but I wouldn't have caught up to you as soon without."
  
  "Thanks."
  
  "By the way, what's your name?" he asks. "I'm Brent. On my way back up to Kaikendoshu. I haven't seen you around, are you new?"
  
  "Yeah, I'm new. You can call me Matchstick."
  
  "That's a classy one," he laughs. "Alright, Matchstick it is. I'll see you soon." Even without the shoes, he keeps running up the sandy, gritty switchbacks to the top. You don't see a reason to, so you just keep walking.
  
  You reach the top by nightfall. It's flat, almost unreasonably so, perfect for the courtyard and the dojo, covered in roof panels in a style that must've been borrowed from some old, traditional methods.
  
  "Ah, so you've come," a man calls out from atop a tall wooden pole.
  
  "I've come to train. Who are you?"
  
  "You may call me Gengshi Li-Tao. It is a pleasure to meet you, Matchstick! Please, walk through the main doors, take a left down a flight of stairs, and you will see beds on the right in the next room." Brent must've relayed your arrival ahead of time, how convenient. You follow his directions, and you're fast asleep.
  
  > The dojo life
  "Hey, you need to get up," someone whispers to you. Slowly you come to, realizing it's Brent. "We've got high expectations around here."
  
  You rise out of bed, a little annoyed, but you've got priorities of your own anyway. You'll have to spend at least a week here talking to anyone if you want to get into a social circle.
  
  The training is rough and grueling for the first week. Brent keeps you company, trying to tell you how everything works in the dojo, but he doesn't know anyone who bets on fights online, so you give up on that angle.
  
  The rest of the fighters refuse to open up to chit-chat. It seems they won't talk to white belts about anything besides techniques and training. The ground frosts over every week or so from massive clouds. It seems to be normal afterall.
  
  After a full week of training, you're put on chore rotation. It just reminds you of farming when any of the machines are down or updating, so it doesn't bug you much. You finally get to talking with another member called Martin, but he's a white belt like you.
  
  He does have some contacts, who he says are more casual. It turns out the entire other side of the planet is far less competitive about things, only learning martial arts as a background characteristic. You ask about transportation to one of those places, but the number Martin quotes is a little more than what you can afford after the steep cut for exchanging Nipthmoney. You try asking around, but you're mostly ignored.
  
  Another week of training passes by. At some point, Gengshi Li-Tao comes up to you. "So, Matchstick," he begins. "I've noticed two things. You have the potential to be a competent fighter," he says, "and you want to get passage to Lant Manifu, a place of lesser traditions. Is this true?"
  
  "Yes."
  
  "Well, I'll pay for your passage myself if you can win an all-rank dojo tournament here," he offers.
  
  > find other ways to Lant Manifu
  You walk out of the dojo, pondering if any of it was worth it. You're almost a month into training and you've gotten nothing to show for it. If only you knew more about this planet earlier. As you're on your way down the mesa, you see another massive cloud that'll probably be overhead by tomorrow, freezing the ground and giving you grief.
  
  You reach the bottom of the mesa, and the cloud is already closing in. It almost has a greenish tint to it, and what was a distant rumble now then develops into distinct thunderclaps. it's roiling with lightning.
  
  You seek cover in the closest wooded area, where you shelter for the night until it finally stops. But you didn't expect the freezing rain. You shiver through the night, wondering as the tempreature plummets if you'll make it to morning.
  
  You're huddled tightly to yourself, alive, and without frostbite it seems. The sun is already out, casting bright rays and melting the ice away.
  
  You decide you're going to make your way off to Lant by yourself, which you should only need a few months' cash to do. You can't stay at the dojo for free, so you'll have to find a place to rent too.
  
  You end up snagging a spot working on hover vehicles. You're allowed to work on everything except the lift generation bridge. It comes to you without too much hassle, though you sometimes struggle on one piece only to find another is the issue. Drawing off your old farming experience, which is mostly repairing broken machines or doing the few jobs they can't, you learn quickly. A few months later, you have enough to take the inter-continental train to Lant Manifu.
  
  The train station is a sterile jungle of cords sweeping through the air over a metal deck, where you wait. You scan in with the ticket ID, opting for a window seat. It's kind of nice to watch, especially as the train crosses over the ocean.
  
  It arrives about noon next day. You step out. The sun beams down from a cloudless sky, and it's getting pretty hot. Across the street, you see vendors with booths set up for candy and sweet breads. The place is packed with people milling around, spending money, living a normal life with online connections. This is definitely the kind of place to find online gamblers.
  
  A week or two passes, but you can't rouse any leads. They just don't seem to respect you. You try your luck for another week, having to take up some part-time labor just to pay for it. You do get a few people who seem interested, but they don't have the kind of money to make it matter.
  
  You try calling Raoul.
  
  "Having luck, Matchstick?"
  
  "Frankly, no. I tried to be a fighter, but it's not panning out for finding leads."
  
  "Oh, that's too bad. I can't really afford to bring you back here, so I'll just write this off as a loss and you're free to go. Do let me know if you ever find leads, but otherwise, ciao."
  
  Click. The call ends. He was probably never expecting you to accomplish much anyway, you figure. He'd already written you off as a loss.
  
  You shrug and find another place to work on hovorcycles. There's a lot more traffic in the Lant region that cares to use vehicles, so it's not hard to find a few shops. You stick with one run by a guy called Larry, who for some reason wears his hair in a bun centered on his head. He says it's an old hairstyle he picked up when he traveled as a kid, called a "man bun". Nobody thinks it looks cool, but he sticks to it. You respect him a little for that.
  
  You live a pretty good and long life, working around a few different shops on bikes or hovorcycles. It's good physical labor with enough small mysteries to keep you from being the guy whose brain is so fried he finds bingo exciting. At one point, you hear a small story about Raoul going to a galactic competition for best haircut. A younger you would've wished he was irradiated and lost all his hair, or something along those lines, but you decided his reasons might've been self-centered, but ultimately he put variety in your life. You end up a little lonely because you never do settle down with someone, but you've always got a trusty and fully-working hovercycle to take you anywhere your will wheels you, right up until the final day.