Return to the House of 1,000 chambers (Solo)

Beaten and sore Arawn had retreated back to his room in the squad barracks. No sooner had he lay on the bed that there was a knock at the door. It was such a soft knock for a moment he wasn't sure he heard it at first.
"Enter, it's open." He spoke, not bothering to get up. The knocking ceased. "I said it's open." Still there was no response. Grumbling he hopped off the bed and approached the door. As he walked over to it a piece of paper slid from underneath. Arawn cleared the remaining inches and flung the door wide. The hallway was empty, he returned to his room closing the door behind him and examined the paper. Something was written in neat handwriting on the page.

Come alone to this location, bring no weapon, tell no one.

Below the text was map of Seireitei, with a house marked as the destination. There was no mistaking it; the handwriting was similar to the note he had received long ago. It was exactly like the note and map that had led him to the house of traps. After what happened in the bar he wasn't in the mood for mysterious messages. And as he remembered the last trip there, he wasn't too keen on returning. He tore the paper into pieces and cast into the trash can by his work bench.
"Forget it." he muttered and walked back to bed, and pulled the sheets over as he tried to sleep. He had a busy day ahead of him.
It was a very busy day; the test creatures escaped confinement and ran amok for most of the day. The whole day's work was delayed by their capture. Much of the equipment was damaged as well, threatening the loss of much more than a day's work. The crisis ended when they rounded up the last of the more dangerous creatures. The ones deemed harmless seemed to come back once hungry. And thus he once more retired to his room. His projects would have to wait, chasing that six legged creature had been very tiring. It had taken three showers to remove the smell. He was about to walk over to the bed when something white fluttered in front of him, then everything went black.

There was light, but he refused to open is eyes. The alarm hadn't sounded so he could stay in bed abit longer. The mattress felt hard and itchy and for some reason his pillow was missing too. Unwilling to open his eyes he groped blindly for it, but felt only a straw mat. Why was he on the floor? Then he snapped awake; his floor had tile, not straw woven mats. He was on the floor of a very familiar room; the paper sliding doors and the bland walls. He was in that house again. As he scanned the room did he notice that he wasn't alone. He sat upright on one side of the room, but in the middle was a small wooden table. Sitting at the table was the old man from the bar two days ago sipping on a cup, behind him was the woman in a white kimono. Arawn sprang to his feet, a multitude of emotions triggering at once; shock, anger, and fear the most prevalent.

“Ignoring a lady’s invite, now that’s just rude.” Stated the old man as he placed the cup upon the table. The memory of something white when he was in his room flashed in his memory. She was there? Had she brought him here? Now he took her in completely a young woman with long dark hair that contrasted the pure white kimono she wore. Her eyes looked glazed, like she was looking, but not seeing the room. The old man coughed to regain his attention.
“Name; Arawn DanShir. Strength; poor. Stamina; low. Speed; barely average. Skill; pathetic.” The woman grins at the last comment. Although he felt extreme anger, Arawn knew he couldn’t do anything. Both had shown skill that more than dwarfed his own. Thus the analysis was correct, which made him angrier.
“So all of that was to test me?” The other man smiled and nodded. His anger was replaced by shock. He had attacked innocent people and shinigami without a second thought. “And this crazy place wasn’t good enough?” Arawn gestured wildly at the room as he got to his feet. As he took a step towards the table the woman’s eyes locked on him. He stepped back.
“If not for this ‘crazy place’ you and I wouldn’t be talking.” He smiles and gestures at the other side of the table. Arawn takes a step forward, but this time without the woman’s glare. He sits down at the other end across from the man. He grunted in protest, but knew he was their prisoner.
“Okay, so talk.”

“When you first came to the academy you battled one Garin Shane, after a short exchange you barely managed to land a single strike against him. At that point you were rendered unconscious. Your next fight was with Tatsuya Okibi. This was probably one of your finer matches, but even that’s not saying much. You lost when your weapon broke defending from his strikes.”

Those fights had been so long ago, how long had this person been watching him? Arawn surprise must have said as much and the man smiled.
“These fights are of public record, hardly take much to find such information about them.” he took another sip from the cup before him. “But I will admit I took the time to observe you more recent fights. Kyoraku Elric was another person you met, one of the first to you used a real weapon against. Now that was a complete disappointment. Bloody and broken you barely walked away from the field.”
Arawn’s ire had risen again. What was the point of all this. Why was this man complaining about his battles? He tried to calm himself as he spoke.
“I’m all for constructive criticism, but I don’t see why you brought me here. Who are you to rebuke me on such matters!?” The woman glares at him for the way he addresses the old man. The other man chuckles,
“I guess not introducing myself is equally as rude.” He stands up from the table “I am Xio Sung, your instructor in Hakuda."

"Hakuda Instructor?" Arawn was puzzled, it was his first time hearing of such a term. If it was the reason for his kidnapping, he wanted to at least understand it. But why had he claimed to be his teacher?
The older man chuckled and shook his head.
"What are they teaching kids these days?" He asked more so to himself than to anyone in the room. He looked in the distance as if watching something from afar. "Boy I mean to teach the art of combat; the way of the fist. Isn't that what you asked of Miyahara?"

Arawn sat there stunned. It was true he had approached Miyahara, but he hadn't expected this. Still for this man to do the things he did, who was this man called Sung? For that matter who was Miyahara to know such a person.
"Wait, you organized this house just to test me?" he asked skeptically. "Using deathtraps to test my abilities?"
"Or lack there of?" he retorted Arawn frowned. "And no, my house has always been like this."
What a man indeed. Arawn sighed and set his head on the table. "If I'm pathetic, why do you want to teach me martial arts?" He was getting the feeling the insults weren't going to stop. Old man Sung sets his cup upon the table.
"It is because you're weak that I teach you." Arawn grimaces "Which is good in it's own way. Learn your true limits, then exceed them."
"True limits?" his rising from the table slightly.
"Well I'll explain everything later, first we need to set up a schedule for lessons." Sung grinned "I suggest you move into the office at the old research center. It's mainly used for storage, but there's plenty of space for other activities. You can practice there when you're not here training.
Arawn looked up from the table. "I can't just move my office. And who said I agreed to take up these crazy lessons?"

"You made your choice then, I'm not about to let you change your mind. If we have to I shall have you taken from you room every night just like tonight. As for moving, with any promotion you are given the choice of new quarters." Arawn sat up completely to look at Sung. He stared blankly at the man, "Promotion? What promotion are you talking about?"
Sung exchanged a glance with the woman in the white kimono, and then shrugged.
"I wish I could say you got promoted via your own merits, but it seems there was a vacancies in the your squad. There was an incident. As such some people were promoted to fill in the void." As good as the news sounded, he couldn't help, but wonder about those that left the vacancy. As the old man droned on about what he had in store for him, he drifted to sleep.