60th of Summer, 517AV
Orin really didn’t want to want to go and work out, but, as his instructors at the Sasarans were found of telling him, usually after they had knocked him silly, “no pain, no gain.” Despite his reservations, Orin did feel that he was making some small amount of progress when it came to his physical prowess. He would never be at the level of a professional fighter, which most of the regulars in the Sasarans were, but at least he was much less likely to embarrass himself these days. Or maybe the Akalaks who ran the place were getting better at hiding their amusement over the puny human who was attempting to train in the Akalak way. Still, Orin had to admit that every Akalak he’d ever fought had thoroughly trounced him, so the big blue men must be doing something right.
Orin began his workout for the day as he always did, by running. The chef didn’t really enjoy it, to be honest -- it was hot, sweaty work, and he didn’t ever seem to get better at it -- but he had to admit that it was the best way to get his body ready for his upcoming sparring or classes. Right now, he was on his second lap around the block, having started at his apartment, and was nearing his destination, the Tuvya Sasaran. It was the unarmed combat facility frequented by Akalaks, and also the place where Orin picked up the majority of his bruises these days. The instructors didn’t hold back, and weren’t afraid to use a little tough love to motivate their pupils, as Orin had found out to his chagrin.
Seeing the building in the distance, Orin attempted to put on a last burst of speed. Unfortunately, he wasn’t quite good enough at running to actually manage it for more than a few strides before dropping back down to his current maximum speed, which, in all honesty, was only slightly above a walk. Still, Orin hoped that if he kept working at it one day he’d actually be able to lope along for as long as he wanted, which would be incredibly useful for getting him out of the tight scrapes he found himself in more often than he would like.
Slowing to a walk, and trying to catch his breath, Orin entered the Sasaran, apprehensive as always about his upcoming training. The aforementioned scrapes were also the reason Orin was pushing himself to improve his combat abilities, as he disliked being reliant on others, and no one liked feeling as if their life was in danger. So he pushed, and he trained, and he hoped that one day he could feel proud of his ability to take care of himself in a pinch and not feel like a load others had to carry. Priskil preserve me in the meantime.
Akfarian, who he’d met on previous vists to the Sasaran, soon greeted Orin. The Akalak had taken a personal interest in Orin’s training regime, and while Akfarian didn’t usually train Orin, he was the one who placed Orin either in class or with a sparring partner. Today, though, the Akalak had an uncharacteristic grin on his face. Gesturing for Orin to follow him deeper into the building, Akfarian soon explained why today was so different. ”Change of plans. Today, you are not student. Today you teach.”
Orin felt his jaw drop. This could not be happening. ”But I, I, I just started learning myself! I couldn’t possibly be a suitable teacher,” the chef stammered out, more nervous than he had been before, if that were possible. Surely this was a joke, a prank, or a test of some kind.
Akfarian, however, seemed to be totally serious. ”We have a new arrival. You are close to basics, so remember them. Besides, what is it they say? Ah yes, the best way to learn is to teach.” With that, Akfarian shoved Orin into a corner, which was empty, save for one other person, and then the Akalak walked off, leaving Orin unable to protest.
Sighing, Orin turned to look at his new student, and got his second surprise of the day. She was female! Comprehension dawned, and Orin fought not to shoot a glare in the direction Akfarian had stalked off in. Akalaks got incredibly weird around women. The few women who came here for training tended to get coddled by the instructors. Perhaps they were thinking that putting this woman with him would put her at ease and, if she had any skill at all, perhaps she could even score a few victories against Orin. So this likely was a scheme of some kind, only it wasn’t exactly aimed at Orin.
Giving her a more thorough look, Orin noted that she was of medium height, and skinny, although her figure was curvy enough. Her pale skin, shockingly blue skin, and long blonde hair gave her an icy, but beautiful appearance. Strangely enough, she seemed to be around Orin’s age. Thinking to himself that she didn’t have the muscles typically associated with a trained combatant, Orin tried to figure out how he should begin. Introductions were always a good start, and would buy him time to figure out his strategy. ”Hello there. I’m Orin Fenix, just a fellow student here, really, so I’m sorry they saddled you with me. Let’s make the most of it, shall we?” He stuck out his hand for her to shake.
Akfarian had mentioned basics, so Orin thought back to his own learning experiences, trying to remember what his own instructors had done. Generally speaking, the first step they had taken when face with Orin as a new student was to assess his abilities. So that’s where Orin would start too. ”Tell me, what experience do you have with unarmed combat?” Hopefully her answer would help him come up with some sort of lesson plan.
