@colleennwings
He had spent a decade in Heaven and walked across Asia, Europe and Africa to get here, yet there was something about the city of New York that still amazed Danny Rand, even after settling back in over the past few months. There was nowhere on Earth- or beyond- quite like it. Visually, it couldn’t hold a candle to the grand spires and golden pathways of K’un-Lun, but there was a charm to it; a certain nostalgia that remained no matter much it had changed and developed, for better or for worse, while he’d been away.
Since being back, acclimatising to this new yet familiar world, and settling back into his family enterprise, Danny had had little time to train his fighting skills (apart from various fights-to-the-death with thugs, ninjas and warriors). With being the Iron Fist and the majority shareholder of a very wealthy company, he simply could not risk getting rusty; his life may depend on it one day. The young man had spent the better half of a day wandering through Chinatown, visiting numerous dojos and martial arts schools in order to find a place to practice, yet arrogant as it may seem, none of them were capable of keeping up with someone of his skill. So when he lingered outside a pretty average looking building, gazing up at a sign baring the name Chikara Dojo, he wasn’t feeling very optimistic. Still, opportunity can hide in plain sight, and this dojo and its sensei might just be a diamond in the rough.
Danny pushed open the front door and stepped inside. He couldn’t hear a sound except for the gentle hum of the neon lights above him. He made his way along the corridor, footsteps echoing off the walls, and stopped next to another door with a frosted glass window. He cupped his hands against the pane and peered in. Though the blurry interior didn’t reveal much, there didn’t seem to be a class taking place. “Hello?” he called loudly, tapping against the glass with his knuckles. “Is anyone there?”
