The AR pop-up notifying Takashi of a new message was just enough to distract the large elf for the fraction of time it took his opponent to tap the side of Takashi's neck with his blade; a killing blow, had he used the sword's edge.
"You must always be focused on your opponent, Seijin" the older man said. "A distraction can be the difference between life... and death." The pause between the last two words was significant enough that Takashi knew he had disappointed his instructor. "Damn it. I am better than this," he thought to himself before addressing Matsuo Ito, his Kensei. The blademaster had taken it upon himself to further instruct Takashi in the ways of Bushido and Kenjutsu both, and he knew he had disappointed his master just now. That feeling stung worse than the blows he had taken and the sweat in his eyes.
"Yes, Kensei," he said, bowing deeply. "Thank you for honoring me with your wisdom, Ito-Sama."
He had to give it to the old man; borrowing his commlink before the sparring session... Takashi should have seen it coming. "Be mindful of your surroundings, and never underestimate your opponent." He repeated the words over and over again as he read the message, thoroughly unsurprised that the sender had masked their Access ID.
He plotted the address for the tea house, pleased that this potential new employer knew to honor the Kami at least. Saying a short prayer to Hachiman, his mentor spirit as those learned in the arts would call him, before he began packing up his gear, he wished he hadn't left his machine pistol in his apartment. He quickly finished putting on his armor and strapped the various bladed weapons he owned, hiding most of the under his thick armored coat, hoping his licenses for the restricted items would hold up if he came across any over-eager corpsec guards. He knew full well that parts of the Odaiba region were extraterritorial, so he made a mental note to avoid what areas he could just in case.
He boarded the train from Asakusa using his Daisuke Kurosawa SIN, and noticed he would be early by quite a bit. He passed the time meditating, and looked up some more details on the tea house, hoping to find out more about who used it as a business, or more likely, a front. He also checked that his biomonitor was fully functional, and that the emergency gear was secured away in the multiple hidden pockets of his longcoat.
Arriving at the tea house half an hour early he remained outside across the street for the duration, checking to see if he recognized any of the patrons. With two minutes to spare, he made his way inside and plainly asked the hostess for the Gumi Special, as instructed.
