Leonard Django

A handsome, middle-aged looking bronze man standing at a humble 6'4"

An air of confidence always fills the room whenever he enters.

His physique was the closest thing to mesomorphic perfection.

He has slick, black hair and a sharp, refined beard. In all honesty, that's all that's needed for his physical appearance since he wears a different outfit everyday. Even the most casual of clothes for him are worth hundreds of dollars; after all, a man is judged not only by his quality of character, but more importantly, the brand that he wears.

He doesn't think he's the strongest.

He knows he's the strongest.

.

.

.

Leonard was sitting down right next to the Principal, Hanayama Ozeki.

More specifically, they were sitting down on comfortable recycled-plastic chairs, at a manufactured beach near the edge of the school. The waves were sometimes controlled by technology, much like any other water park with their wave machines and all. The sand was genuine, sure, though, if a person were to face the opposite direction of the beach, the immersion would be ruined as the forestry and the facility were in plain view. They were staring at the sunset. Both of them sported Hawaiian shirts and comfortable shorts. They sip on their strawberry-mango margaritas, enjoying life.

Oh yeah Naoki was there too.

More specifically, he was uncomfortably popping a squat right in front of the two's view, staring in sheer disbelief.

Despite knowing Django had worked at the Academy for at least ever since he could remember, it wasn't until today that Naoki asked:

"How the hell did you even get here?

You sure as fuck don't look Japanese to me (maybe a little Okinawan, but even that's a stretch....)."

Django smiled at the question and looked over at Hanayama.

"Isn't your culture all about respecting the elders and whatnot?"

Hanayama smirks.

"This kid's a special case."

"Really? I don't remember him being that great."

"No, as in he's a special case.

He has the IQ of a rat."

Both Django and Naoki let out an audible "Dude"

One in a semi-exasperated reaction while the other was in a laid back tone. It's pretty clear which one was which.

"But to answer your question," responded Django, "do you want me to explain it? Or do you want to do it?"

Hanayama chuckles at the prompt.

"Yeah sure, I'll explain it; it's too entertaining to pass up

So, back to say around... 20 years ago...? Yeah? Around there, I was on a business trip going to Las Vegas."

"Las Vegas? What business did you have there," asked Naoki.

"In all honesty, I don't remember. Hell, I think I made some random bullshit excuse to go there. Anyway, I was hanging around, enjoying myself (as one does), experiencing the rancid American culture shock (as one does), and it was just that for around... a week or so."

As Hanayama explained, he whipped out a cigar out of his shirt pocket and sparked one up.

He took a long drag, reminiscing of his younger years; despite him being around 90 years old at the time.

"I remember one night, I was eating out at some expensive steakhouse, drinking hard liquor, having a good old time, the usual. But Throughout my dinner, I heard a ruckus around the restaurant. Since the area I was in was the VIP section, staff didn't give a shit; we paid enough money to have our little area to ourselves, untainted by brats, families and most importantly, the poor. As long as we had enough money, we could act however the fuck we pleased; so we did. Funnily enough, despite how old I look, I know how to party, believe you me. Sidetracking aside, I heard this commotion on the other side of the area. Since I was finished with dinner and buzzed beyond hell, I decided to check it out.

Lo and behold- THIS asshole," said Hanayama as he pointed at Django, "was armwrestling. For cash! I remember it clearly, some dipshit wearing casual Hawaiian clothes, a dorky ass bucket hat, some dollar store flip flops and sunglasses managed to meander his way into the VIP section. Drunk as hell, no less. And yet he still wasn't kicked out by then. A bunch of haughty college kids were lying on the floor, writhing in pain as they held their forearms and wrists. Business executives were drunk enough to feel themselves up and take a roll at it. You can already guess what happened to them.

So that's when I said 'you know what, to hell with it.' I was already on Cloud 9 with the amount of alcohol in me, so I effortlessly threw the guy that was about to challenge Django off of his chair and took his seat. Everyone had their eyes on us. He says to me

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

'Alright old timer, here's the current rate: $40 if I win, $200 if I los-'

And I cut him off.

'I have $4,000 worth of cash on me right now. I'll bet it all, if you also bet all your money in.'

He looked at me with this stupid expression."

Django cut Hanayama off.

"I will admit it, I was flabbergasted. Half of my reaction was genuine confusion, while the other half of me thought 'EASY MONEEEEEEEEEEEYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!’"

Hanayama took back the reins of the story.

"He looks at me and says

'I don't have that much on me-'

'So you're pussying out, is that what I'm hearing? Because that sounds like what I'm hearing'

And let me tell you, when I said that-

he looked pissed.

'Your loss old man'

So we gripped our hands and stared each other down. Not going to lie, he was a little sweaty but, to describe it as intense would be an understatement. I could feel that with just one quick quip, and the fact that a frail old geezer was challenging his turf, I struck a nerve. At first we were doing that thing where both guys stiffen up their own arms so as not to budge an inch- yet we stressed our muscles so hard, our elbows began to dig into the table. He spoke some shit under his breath, a compliment but dished out in a scolding way. After a few seconds of not budging, we did the next thing that every guy does: go all out. Still, stalemate. He was gritting his teeth in frustration, but I'm a big enough man to admit- damn, so was I. And at the very next moment- and this will always be stuck in my memory- we finally infused our muscles with a simple ounce of Ki.

We sensed each other doing that.

We looked up, wide eyed, and said the same thing at the same time

'You-'

'-FUCKER'

We headbutted each other as our Ki skyrocketed. The ground beneath us began to tremble as it could barely contain our strength. Nevermind the ground, the damn table disintegrated the moment we unleashed our Ki. It was an awe-inspiring spectacle, I'll tell you what. Even those who couldn't fathom the supernatural could feel the intensity between us; the air was so dense and tangible, it might've felt like a train colliding with another train to them...

Hehehehheh... good times... good times...."

"..."

"..."

"..."

The three of them stood there in silence for a brief moment.

Until Naoki snapped the rest of them back to reality.

"....

.....Ok?

That's it???? Like- w-what does this have anything to do with him working here????"

"Oh right, right," said Hanayama, finishing the story off.

"In all honesty, I don't know what happened after that. It was such a stalemate for an unnecessarily long time that we decided to win via rule of cool rather than true strength or endurance since- we could go days and we'd still be there. So we drank and drank and drank until somebody technically won via letting go but, again, we were so inebriated that... yeah the night just ended there-"

"Oh my GOD, I don't care about you old men trying to act young again, just tell me how the hell he got here!"

Hanayama snapped back at Naoki.

"Tch, you're really fucking annoying 💀

But to finally answer your question, the next day I found out that this guy was broke and was living alone in a dinky ass motel, barely scraping by. Seeing as how he was living a miserable life, I had no reason to suspect he was a part of any organization that we didn't like to associate with... or any organization for that matter 💀. And since he was so strong, I decided to just bring him back here along with me."

Naoki stared at Hanayama.

"So-

you kidnapped a random American?"

"Yes."

Django finally interjects

"Now, now, to be fair, I was 55 years old by then, so calling it kidnapping would be a little disingenuous. He offered me a job, and with nothing to really incentivize me to live in Nevada anymore (besides gambling and drinking), I decided to have life guide me towards the next venture, so I said 'yeah, sure.' Granted, there were a couple hiccups here and there, like the glaring detail of the language barrier that we both didn't think about since... he spoke in English the entire time and I was too aloof to even process what was even going on so, that was annoying. But five years later, I think I got the hang of your guys' language. See? I clearly got better."

"Eh, 8/10" responded both Naoki and Hanayama.

Satisfied with an answer (albeit a long one), Naoki remembered one last detail that he forgot to ask.

"Wait, if you were 50 years old back then, and you're like in your 70s by now... why the hell do you look so young?"

Django smiled, took off his glasses, and shot a finger gun towards Naoki.

"Ki mastery; with enough practice, we get to control everything about our body.

I can sense you know a bit of Ki too so, you'll get the hang of it eventually :)"

"Cool..."

Silence broke between them until Hanayama commanded Naoki to go somewhere else since he was blocking the view.

"Damn..." thought Django as Naoki left

"That kid really is annoying 💀"