Solo Flurry of Knuckles

[Shouta]

18th Winter, 512AV.

Speed. Shouta liked to think he was fast enough to make up for his perpetually slender build. And when one did not have strength, they needed to use speed. A thin man's elbow hurt just as much as a thick man’s.

He spat out blood.

He was a cumbersome turtle compared to this instructor. The monk was a small man greying hair upon his pate. His tongue was almost as sharp as his strikes, and everyone had said beforehand that he had even won a tournament before. His every move seemed to flow into the next, executing techniques that Shouta could not even comprehend as fast as the man did them. The dusty wool of his robe bounced and twisted, trying to catch up with his taut muscles.

Again, Shouta found the numbing feeling of awe seep into his bones. He had so much to learn.

“Now everyone seems to forget about elbows. So many will throw a punch and give up the potential power of an elbow. The range of such a strike is not as far as a punch, but when you are close enough to use elbows, they will do more damage than a punch or other hand strike.” The diminutive monk explained patiently to the novices gathered around. He helped Shouta up from the ground where he had been felled before continuing. “A quick recovery time is also a perk of the elbow strikes. I will demonstrate.” He turned, hands cupped inside one another, and faced Shouta. He glanced up with icy blue, coldly critical, eyes at the novice before nodded. “Be at the ready.”

Shouta barely had time to move his arms up before the barrage of strikes came. Many he blocked with his forearms and elbows, but a few cut in under his arms and found soft spots in his torso to impact. A shockwave of pain gave him a gut check every time the instructor hit. Truly, Shouta knew the perks of the elbow strike, but he could not attack as fast as this monk. He had attended the seminar in the front atrium of the Sharp Blade Headquarters in the hope of learning how to speed up his attacks. And this monk was the man to teach the skill.

[Shouta]

Shouta was helped to his feet after the instructor shamed him soundly. The beat down could have been anyone, but it had been him. And he knew he deserved it. Shouta knew he had been ignoring his unarmed training sessions in favor of the more flashy kusarigama. But this demonstration was proof he could not afford to any longer.

Uphis favored the bladed combat, but life favored opportunity. And there would be less opportunity to kill him if he could defend himself, even without the weapon he had grown to love. So he set about to listening to the instructor intently.

“When using your limbs to attack, you must draw strength from your core.” The monk gestured towards his abs. “Like this.” He shot out a jab, knocking another novice to the ground. “See how the twist of my torso, and the flare of my heel, generated more power? The fist was merely the point of impact. It was my blade’s edge."

He paced around the crowd of younger monks, lecturing them on the perks of core strength for a few minutes. Shouta and his compatriots listened intently. Some, like Shouta, were dusted with a healthy amount of dirt and sweat from the instructor’s demonstrations.

When ordered to pair up facing each other, Shouta quickly found another new novice whom he had done many nighttime patrols with before. He would not venture to say they were friends, but they were in practice of covering each other’s back. This alone elevated him to an ideal sparring partner over the others.

[Shouta]

The elder monk, in his grimy robe, had them practice the same sidekicks and hooks on each other for nearly an hour before giving any sort of feedback. Shouta’s face was red with exhaustion and his partner was none the better. “You can kick and punch well when rested. But in war the well rested are asleep at home, brothers. Conditioning is what keeps warriors as warriors, and not memories.” He said, the uncaring tone would have been harsh on a man not of the monks perhaps. But the novices were used to hearing distain directed their way like they were used to seeing the stars at night.

Shouta hissed as he took his turn kicking the outstretched arms of his partner. The man winced and strained with every blow, but Shouta would soon do the same for him. He swung his leg up and kicked down, aiming for the outside kneecap.

“Aim no higher than the knee with this sort of kick, boys. It will easily be blocked or grappled to off balance you if you do. We are merely trying to break them down and slow them down.” The instructor yelled over the gasps and grunts of the working novices.

“Don’t muck the technique.” Muttered his partner in encouragement. Shouta had slipped up on one kick.

“Yea, yea.” He breathed, wiping sweat from his brow. The bruises the Acolyte gave him still ached a dull distraction from his training. As he kicked away with the sidekick, he imagined how he could incorporate this into his kusarigama technique.

“Focus! If you aren’t here to get better, then get out!” A yell issued from behind Shouta. A hand slapped onto his stomach and made him flinch. “Use the core. Don’t just go through the motions. Flex your abs and flare the heel.” The instructor’s orders were impatient and angry. Shouta had petched up.

He could not be day dreaming about greatness, he needed to sweat, bleed, and work about it. He set about again, with revitalized vigor.

[Shouta]

“Strength and endurance, gentlemen. Technique and practice. These are the tenants that make men into warriors. These are the things that bring greatness to the mediocre.” The instructor said, his eyes falling on Shouta briefly at the last word. A feeling of shame washed over Shouta like a bad smell.

He was not mediocre! He could rip that man apart with his kusarigama. And he WOULD be great someday. The flare of anger simmered in the ageless monk’s soul. But thinking rationally, Shouta did need work in his hand to hand combat. And he had made some rookie mistakes here in this session. Uphis was a demigod, the lord of sword masters. He would not look at a monk who could not focus on a simple kick!

“And with strength and endurance comes conditioning. So if nothing else, I want all of you to tack some abdominal exercise onto every day, to give your core a boost.” The instructor held his hands cupped in front of himself as he spoke. The Novices were all eager to leave and rest after a few hours of intense physical training, and Shouta was no less tired than the rest. But he had patrol in a bell, and the walls were not going to guard themselves. But after that he planned on heading back down to his usual spot in the Warfields and perhaps begin dedicating a half an hour every day to his core.

Though a rough day on Shouta’s spirits, given the instructor’s disdain for him, it had taught him some valuable lessons about combat that he had not thought of. And a few lessons about himself, and his weaknesses.