Name: Lao Zhitsu<br/>Age: 17<br/>Gender: Male<br/>Appearance: Lao has a short but relatively average build, he's not a stick but he's not necessarily He-man either. His black hair is slicked back, but a bit grown out and unfettered, forming a bit of a backwards crest.<br/>He's often seen in a plain white polo shirt, left untucked, and black dress pants, a sort of variation of his work uniform. Lao is always carrying his backpack as well, a large gray bag that holds all kinds of essentials.<br/>Skills:<br/>*Good hand-to-hand skills<br/>*Well-read, knows a good bit of history<br/>*Talented artist<br/>*Speed, both running and fighting<br/>-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br/>Lao ran what felt like the fastest he ever had on his way to The Wishing Glass. It was getting late, the sun was setting, enveloping the bustling Chinatown in a deep golden twilight. There was no way he was going to miss out today, he'd been going to The Wishing Glass everyday of his life as long as he remembered, and he sure wasn't going to break that trend now. He began slowing down as the dojo came into sight, until he finally stopped in front of the front doors, taking a breather before he went inside.<br/><br/>Mr. Roshi was there for him as usual. It's as if the man could read minds, he noticed in an instant that something was wrong, and there was. Lao had always had trouble with friends, he's a shy boy, and has a group of about two or three that he hangs around with, but they'd had a bit of an argument recently. It was just about some stupid things, he said a few things he shouldn't have, but Lao knew he could always look to Mr. Roshi when things where looking down.<br/><br/>"Mei and I just got into a bit of an argument. She was drawing portrait of me and I said she got the nose too big, nothing to worry about." He chuckled at how stupid it sounded now. The picture was actually pretty good, maybe he was just a bit jealous. Lao was good, no doubt about it, but Mei was always better. Better with people, better grades, better art, better everything. If Lao came in second for anything, there was no doubt who came in first. She wasn't arrogant about it, but still. He treasured Mei as a friend, but sometimes he just has to say<span style="font-style: italic">something.</span><br/><br/>The music soothed him, calmed his nerves. Lao lounged on the couch as the old man poured the tea. But something seemed...off. He tried calling for Mr. Roshi, but the sounds of the music had begun to drown out the sound of his voice. His ears began to hurt, the soothing melody turning into a booming presence. The room dimmed, all but a shining light, it's rays golden and strong emanating from the stick on the mantelpiece. Lao was afraid, could it be something supernatural, magical, mystical? Whatever it was, it was not normal, but he was drawn to it, despite his fear. He reached out and grasped the stick in both hands.