Orin Fenix Food Equals Love
Sighing at his complete and utter lack of physical prowess, Orin turned to his right side. He figured that working out only one side of your body was probably frowned upon. So he’d give it another shot, literally. Assuming the correct position, Orin swung his fist. It connected solidly with the center of the dummy. Unfortunately, this sent a wave of agony from his wrist through the shoulder. Orin bit down on his lip to keep from shouting, or worse, screaming. Now that would have definitely drawn attention. And it would have most definitely been the type of attention that Orin really was trying to avoid at all costs.
Sucking his breath in between his teeth, Orin waited until the pain subsided to a more manageable level. He rolled his shoulder to help relieve some of the tension. Orin hadn’t realized how annoying trauma was until this moment. Sure he’d been hurt before, but it either had been so minor that it didn’t interfere with his daily life or so major he couldn’t work. This in-between state of not being bedridden, but not quite being able to do all the tasks he was accustomed to doing was wearing on his nerves. Hopefully he’d healed sooner rather than later. Until then he’d have to be especially careful whenever he was doing anything especially strenuous with his right hand. Lifting any heavy objects was definitely out of the question. And as he’d just discovered, he should probably avoid punching anyone. Not that he was planning on punching someone, or anyone in particular, but one never knew quite what was coming up.
However, even though his right arm was out of commission for now, nothing was preventing Orin from using his left. So, he settled back into a ready stance. Orin decided he would try out those high, middle, and low strikes. Unfortunately, without a partner, Orin couldn’t work on his blocks. But the thought of someone deliberately punching at him, even if it was a controlled environment, was frankly more than a little terrifying. So, Orin would stay here with his safe, immobile dummy.
Tensing up, Orin slowly threw a punch aimed at the dummy’s makeshift head. It landed, obviously. Taking confidence, Orin tried it just a bit faster. Again, it hit where Orin was aiming. Feeling a bit giddy, Orin again punched at the dummy’s head. Unfortunately, in his enthusiasm, his aim was off and it only grazed the side of the straw man. Groaning, Orin ran his hand through his hair. Obviously, his precision needed quite a bit of work. Especially if he was planning to go at anything other than a snail’s pace. But, as they said, practice makes perfect. Moving back to the correct posture, Orin brought his hands up. He started punching. He took as much time as he needed to get it right and he made sure to correct his feet when they started sliding out of position. Eventually, he got the punch, if not up to full speed, at least up to a place where it could do some damage.
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