A Place To Hit Stuff [T|Boxing Dojo|PM2ENTR]

[Deleted]

[0 | 5]

As I often did when I was bored, I found myself hitting things.

Somewhat unusually, however, it was not a living thing, and presumably did not feel pain; it was a boxing bag, a row of its kind set up along an aisle within the building that I was now within, which was what was primarily a boxing dojo. It was open to the public, one of the only dojos to maintain such generosity throughout Takigakure, and I had recently taken up taking full advantage of their generosity to pulverize or just generally use the shit out of their equipment. My shinobi path was a difficult one; I had to completely substitute my lack of ninjutsu for raw physical prowess, which was not exactly easy when someone of my rank could already summon tidal waves from a puddle. So practice was rigorous, and it was frequent.

The ground beneath the soles of my shoes was a rather springy mat that encompassed the entire floor. The walls and rather high ceiling were of timber, and as I was quite painfully aware, the bag I was hitting was made of hefty rubber, though I had no clue what it was filled with. I struck it wildly, as I usually tended to strike things, and its weight simply resisted my arm and shunted me back. After a good five minutes of this, my arm beginning to protest and grow tired of this rigmarole, and demanded I come up with a solution to the problem. So, however begrudgingly, I would oblige.

Taking a step back, taking stock of... yanno, stuff, I tried to envision a sort of rough but universal stance I'd seen some of the other patrons adopt, no matter how infrequent they were at this time of day. Somewhat curiously, I took one step towards the bag, letting my knee bend what I reckoned was slightly, not forced, just natural, my back leg accompanying it with that same sort of 'just-however-much-you-want' lean. I had never been able to master any sort of fighting style based on complicated mechanics - I guess I was just too fucking dumb - but I didn't think boxing was above my level of understanding, or at least, it wouldn't be able to remain so. My body twisted sideways, my dominant arm - my right, though of course I was ambidextrous when it came to Taijutsu - drawn in toward my face slightly, my left extended in front, far enough away that they would be used for separate functions but close enough, I guessed, that they could come together in a pinch as well.

Flat-footed didn't seem right, though and so I would lift slightly upward upon the balls of my feet, which instantly seemed to click the stance somewhat into place - though it was lighter than my usual combat assumption, it felt more mobile, like... springy. Like I could shrug off a hit and return one quick, which I thought was a good thing, because that's what all boxing seemed like to me, in essence. My range wasn't nearly as long in such a pose, of course, so I lightly shifted forward towards the bag and, in a natural, simple motion, extended a fist quickly into the bag's mass, backed by little momentum or weight, but at the same time I also did not suffer the same sort of volatile recoil, which was nice. Nodding to myself, my brow furrowed in concentration, I would definitely experiment further with this sort of fighting.[/ul][/justify]

[Draven]

learned

[Deleted]

[0 | 10]

Nodding to myself, my brow furrowed in concentration, I would definitely experiment further with this sort of fighting. Though I was, you know, a fairly individualistic and self-centered motherfuck, it wasn't as though I hadn't occasionally observed the techniques of the people who fought here, and despite my terrible forgetfulness when it came to schedules and such, the actual details of an image or moment were usually fairly clear to me, at least the physical aspects of them. And it didn't take a fuckin' fighting genius to understand the basic notion of the jab; shit'd been around for a good while, everyone knew what it looked like.

But of course, replicating something in the body was far more difficult than picturing it in the vagaries of the mind, where much, as I knew, was unconsciously skipped and dishonestly fabricated. So I would have to put this stuff into practice, and with a good deal of repetition, too, before I could even think of applying it to a combat situation. Which is exactly what I would now be doing.

My boxing stance was assumed - somewhat properly, I thought proudly - so all that was really left was the punch itself. Moving on the ball of my heels was a slightly strange motion, and in my inexperience it felt quite... rocky, like I was going to tip over at any moment, like my balance wasn't quite right, but I hoped a more assured feeling would come with time. This being said, I had to slightly rotate my already somewhat side-facing hip, gaining a little bit of propulsion as I jerked it further around in a circular motion, transferring this momentum to my forward fist, the energy traveling up through my torso.

As it reached my shoulder, it just fluidly, naturally allowed me to extend my arm with very little conscious movement of the limb itself, though I did still have to retain solidarity and control over it to avoid it from growing weak. It was a strange negotiation between my upper arm, forearm and elbow, all standing for different levels of robustness, my forearm held strong, my shoulder needing to be pushed somewhat, my elbow straightening as the maneuver was completed.

I pivoted ever so slightly on the balls of my feet, just giving me a bit of extra range, which might have been a mistake, I couldn't tell, but whatever. My arm had first, naturally, bent upwards, but as it moved ever closer to the punching bag it, of course, straightened considerably, till it was almost horizontal - a very odd punch compared to what I was used to, this much was certain. Still, as the rather rapid but considered strike whipped towards and beat into the target, it hit with a considerably force that, if it were not enough to send the sack swinging back, certainly did cause it quite the stagger for how little raw momentum the punch had, how little distance it had had to cover.

My arm went fully rigid upon impact, and in a reverse, slightly more natural, less considerate and anxious motion, I drew my limb back in towards my body, letting it relax somewhat, if not entirely - one could never afford to let their guard down, I knew, and it was best to practice this no matter what the situation - and I simply brought my fist to rest a comfortable six inches or so in front of my face once again. Arcing ever so slightly upon its chain, not wanting to settle, but for now I did not really care for its obstinacy as I reveled in my victory.

In layman's terms, that'd been kinda cool.[/ul][/justify]

[JiMmIyZ]

+10

[Deleted]

[0 | 10]

Arcing ever so slightly upon its chain, the punching bag swung with a slight creak, not wanting to settle, but for now I did not really care for its obstinacy as I reveled in my victory. That'd been kinda cool. But being confident in a single, very basic punch wasn't even really a thing on a grand scale. I hadn't even bitten into the meat of boxing, just sort of looked at it from afar, or maybe come in and sniffed it experimentally; so I supposed another punch variation was in order. 'The Cross', sometimes known as 'The Straight'. Yeah, when I was a kid I'd been a bit of a nerd for this sort of junk, till I had tried to grasp the concepts of it and failed so miserably so many times. But not anymore, which was fortunate. There was a certain prowess that was lacking to my fighting, it had to be said. Perhaps this was the answer.

Anyhow, the bag finally coming to a grudging halt, I decided to test this technique out for myself. It was a simple enough concept - instead of attacking with the forward hand, one would attack with the rear, or 'dominant' one. It would mean an opposite - and far more drastic, I knew - rotation of the body to properly extend the technique with its intended power. After the jab, my first real punch within the stance, I felt like maybe this shit could work, which of course made me eager, and gave me an ambition that exceeded beyond simple curiosity. I was on to something here.

And so it was that, with a slight jolt, the punch would begin, its origins baser, but of course incredibly important; it was the hip, mainly, but it was pushed by the leg, a quick extension of the muscle that was then followed swiftly and with quite the sophisticated co-ordination - Taijutsu was my one and only prowess, after all - to begin the energy in the back of my body, surging forward and upward towards the final destination; 'twas a way, yet, but it would reach soon enough.

My hip twisted, inward towards my leading hand, but I did not allow only my center to rotate; I let my whole body go with it, building upon the lower, closer arm, every bit of my form lending it support as it lingered there, but in that moment, I decided it had lingered long enough. I brought it out, away from my turning physique, to stand alone and aloft in the empty air out from my side, my left arm somewhat mirroring it, though there was far less emphasis on its action; it was drawn away, it had had its turn in the spotlight, now it was my right arm's turn.

All the momentum finally connected in one almost imperceptible yet somehow incredibly energetic moment, one of what were usually two in a Taijutsu attack, I'd found; the first was the instant that you felt all the force center upon the desired area, and from there on in it was just easy. The punch flew, and it flew true, and it flew straight; and my body bended round so as the second point hit, the wonderful release of all that pent up power into the target, it was fully turned towards the 'enemy', formulating a rigid posture that did not quaver as the bag was struck, and though it recoiled, I most certainly did not.

I drew myself back up, bringing my arms back in, re-aligning my feet and just generally reassuming my posture. Alrighty, two punches, two easy completions; there were far more to come, though.[/ul][/justify]

[Draven]

Learned

[Deleted]

[0 | 10]

I drew myself back up, bringing my arms back in, re-aligning my feet and just generally reassuming my posture. Alrighty, two punches, two easy completions; there were far more to come, though. The jab and the cross were really just the most basic of basics; the most mundane and unremarkable strokes that came as standard for each arm. But you know, you had to start somewhere. And then you had to move on. And I figured the best place to next move on to would be 'The Hook'.

It was a slightly more unorthodox punch; one that was not quite as token as the jab or the cross, but one that was far more likely to penetrate a defense, at least in my estimation. It was sort of like a horizontal uppercut, if that made sense to anyone but me, but then again such an arcing motion was to be expected from its name. It would be quite the handy maneuver to know if ever the enemy went on the defensive and if, for any reason, my ginormous blows could not pin them down.

Beginning from my standardized upright stance - prime hand curled somewhat in towards the body, secondary arm forward in front of my face, somewhat guarding, somewhat warding, but a key part of attacking when the shit hit the fan too, I supposed - I would slightly push forward onto my front leg - not too much, but just enough to initiate something grand and a little unusual. My whole body drew somewhat around towards the enemy, my left arm naturally straying away, curling in at my open side, dropping away but acting as a counterweight to my primary arm.

Which was, of course, being prepared in its own way. It was almost a mirror of my subordinate limb at that moment, drawn out sideways, though I did not allow my fist to twist around as I did my secondary arm; it was still held upright as it was held aloft, pulled back almost behind my shoulder; but as my body truly twisted, I allowed my arm to be brought around with it, almost arcing downward as it soared, staying low, my mind painting an enemy boxer's block on the bag hanging before me, my arm aligning accordingly.

The swing came round in quite an outside motion, which I believed was correct - a hook, as it were - to collide almost with the 'edge' of the circular bag's face that I could visualize, the swing brought around with my body's combined momentum that lent it all the strength it needed to properly hammer into the dummy's hard, if cushy, mass. It was beaten sideways with quite the energy, my fist expelling all the pent up force it had received throughout the maneuver in a proper hook, though the energy was pushed out of it quite straight, if almost diagonally.

As I drew back, reversing the motion with a little less co-ordination, simply bringing my stance back in to position, the dummy now sagged upon a strange, diagonal arc upon its suspension. I grinned in a slightly violent way at my work. Not even that had been hard, and I could only think of one more basic punch that I knew of, which would make my basic fighting arsenal complete.[/ul][/justify]

[Draven]

Learned

[Deleted]

[0 | 10]

I grinned in a slightly violent way at my work. Not even that had been hard, and I could only think of one more basic punch that I knew of, which would make my basic fighting arsenal complete. It was, apart from all the rest of the punches, not horizontal, nor direct, nor did it aim to propel the enemy backwards, at least not at the same angle. It was, of course, "The Uppercut", and it would break the slight monotone that I'd managed to build in my practice thus far, I estimated.

It occurred to me only then that my stance, which had felt so consciously flimsy to begin with, had simply grown into my body to the extent that I'd hardly noticed I had it active, and this was somewhat pleasing; even as I shifted experimentally upon the ever so slightly raised balls of my feet, trying to re-straighten my alignment with my unfortunate punching bag, the motion seemed slightly more natural, which, yanno, I reckoned was pretty cool. It felt like I had found a new element that I could enter into, sort of like Isabella and her earth jutsu she'd apparently only recently taken up.

This proper, shinobi-like progression spurred me onwards into my next strike. My right hip was pulled down upon the corresponding hip side, my right arm coinciding with this motion, almost dropping down to my flank had it not been done so with an extreme precision and care; I took care not to let it decline too far, not straying below my hip, drawn to prepare for the heaving uppercut that would hopefully ensue, this sort of momentous use of elasticity abiding more to my usual approach towards unarmed combat.

My secondary arm was, of course, not forgotten; I may have made myself slightly vulnerable in that instant, my physicality bunching upon the fist, but any attack that may theoretically have come in that instant would hopefully have been able to be warded off by my left arm, which had been brought across somewhat to cover my upper body and face, depending on how the situation might have evolved. Still, as I bent away, my body had turned further sideways, lending only the narrowed target of my side to an adversary, and that was only for an instant.

The force of my form briefed and ready for the operation, I would then engage phase two, which was bringing the attack forward; arguably the most important part of any punch... well, no, not really, because it sort of was. I propelled my hip back then, shoving off my back foot a little to give myself a bit of upward-arcing momentum that coursed through my body and directed it properly through my arm, which was of course describing this exact motion, my shoulder used as an anchor point to twist my whole arm around, up, and in towards the target.

As my glove-less fist hit the sack at quite the acclivous, all the power my body had been able to generate shot out of it, truly causing an anabatic recoil from the bag this time, shaking it at slightly an odd angle as it coiled upon its chain before bursting backwards, rocking almost uncertainly, swaying in contradiction to the previous paths it drew as I brought my arm back, rising it to be held again at my chest.

"Sweet." I commented, figuring that that had been a job well done.[/ul][/justify]

[¯\_(ツ)_/¯]

+10

[Deleted]

[/b][/u]", "B", "A", "S"
Skill: Supplementary
Effect: By analyzing and keeping an eye on the opponent's shoulder and foot work the user is able to predict movements and grab a feel of when attacks are going to come by making the Boxer a more proficient fighter.
Special: ---
Drawback: The user is only capable of predicting movements’ one rank below then what they have learned. The user is only capable of predicting movements that are TaiJutsu Based. Any other type of movements cannot be predicted.
Description: The way this technique works is that the user observes certain points of areas of the opponent's body such as the shoulders, thighs, and hips. Since attacks are focused on these points they are capable of making educational guesses towards points of contact that may occur within these certain points. This type of technique is a study where the user is capable of watching an opponent's movements for a brief moment of time predicting TaiJutsu techniques. When the user first learns this technique they are capable of predicting techniques of "D" Rank capability. When the user learns the "B" Rank version of this technique they are only capable of predicting techniques of "C" Rank capability. When the user learns the "A" Rank version of this technique they are only capable of predicting techniques of "B" Rank capability. When the user learns the "S" Rank version of this technique they are only capable of predicting techniques of "A" Rank capability.
Limit: Must learn in a gym that teaches Bokushingu (Boxing), Must know all Basics[/ul]

[0 | 10]

"Sweet." I commented, figuring that that had been a job well done. Okay, so it hadn't been all that much physical work, but for some reason the combination of mental as well as physical application seemed especially draining, and with quite a yawn I laced my fingertips together and stretched my arms above my head, forcing some of the strain out of them somehow, or at least that was what it felt like I was doing. As I lowered myself I frowned at the punching bag, a sense of sleepiness creeping up out of the corners of my mind, but I pushed it away. The Chuunin Exams were approaching on fast feet, and though I had been forcing myself to even greater heights over the past week or so it did not give me an excuse to start slacking now. I absolutely had to make it through them. I didn't really know why, or if I realistically could, but I just knew that I had to, and I would.

It was then that I heard another patron of this fine establishment enter through the front door; I glanced to my right - for I was more or less in the upper left corner of the place - and watched a dude with short-cropped brown hair, slightly older than me perhaps and wearing only a tank top and shorts, approach a dummy of his own selection about six of them down from myself - there were quite a lot, and they were naturally quite well spaced apart.

He did not seem to be paying me any mind, so I was free to observe him with a curious frown, if without the allowance of turning my whole body to face him. He was wearing traditional gloves and I figured he was perhaps a daily attendant by the businesslike, professional conduct with which he held himself within this place, his well-toned muscles and the way that he turned up so early when most folk still hadn't gotten off work.

I began to almost subconsciously monitor his movements as he, of course, started to beat at his own designated target, and though my brain began to space out at first and I was sort of lost in a vague scrutinizing, but as time passed my mind refocused with a creeping realization that I could almost see what moves he was going to perform - mainly out of the four I had just tried - before they were fully executed, and my brow furrowed further as I learned this. Eyes alert and truly interested now, I narrowed them to focus on the workings of his body, testing this new-found ability.

I could tell, then, by the way that his back foot was pushed down upon, his open side turning round; the way his fist dropped to his side, that his next technique would be an uppercut, which was quite correct, and which slammed into the target before he swiftly moved on, my eyes darting about his form secretively, probing for the source and overall mechanics of his next punch, growing more and more excited as my accuracy prevailed.

Next, I saw his hip tweak in and around, his secondary shoulder dropping forward as he let the corresponding arm grow even closer to the target, and a moment before it lashed out to beat at the dummy I registered that it was, of course, a jab, aside from the other four punches in the way that it used the subordinate arm to attack. I did not, however, allow my eyes to linger this time on the way the bag recoiled, for of course it was of little importance; instead, I dragged my eyes across his body, searching desperately, now, as though it were a competitive race, for his next maneuver, or more precisely, its origins.

Perhaps going through a circular routine, though I allowed this assumption but a very brief sojourn, the next technique he performed - or, by the way I registered it, was to perform - was the cross; the way his fighting stance turned to face towards the enemy, higher arm dropping away, lower arm raising to the same level, body twisting inwards to acquire that reach that boxing techniques seemed to struggle with, I clearly predicted the move, and indeed the straight punch hit the target and was drawn back.

Finally, predictably, though I still did not allow myself to fall into the deadly pit of expectation, the last technique was the hook, a motion adumbrated by the dropping of the fist, the way the arm curled as though about to move in and upwards, and it hit solidly before he returned to his stance... before the rotation started once again. Grinning in a sort of self-satisfied way, as though I had quite clearly one-upped him, though of course he did not see this, I turned back to my own punching bag, this sort of heightened perception I had acquired and focused upon momentarily illuminating the world in a far brighter and almost... slowing light, but I shook my head to clear it, leaving space in my head only to wonder what I would progress onto in this latest fighting style I had picked up on.[/ul][/justify]

[Draven]

learned

[Deleted]

[0 | 10]

I had acquired and focused upon momentarily illuminating the world in a far brighter and almost... slowing light, but I shook my head to clear it, leaving space in my head only to wonder what I would progress onto in this latest fighting style I had picked up on. But stare as I might, the punching bag did not profess any wonderful ideas to me, and I myself had more or less run dry on them; you could only punch in so many ways, and as far as the basics went I reckoned I'd done all of them. I rolled my tongue around in my mouth as I considered, before the vague semblance of an idea occurred to me, and I clenched my boxing stance with a little more sincerity as I tentatively began to act it out.

The idea was sort of simple; though you could punch all you liked, you couldn't always expect to be the attacker, this I knew. There were going to be times when you simply weren't fast enough to pin down the enemy or deliver the first strike, and it was in those times that you had to deflect, or more favorably in my mind, dodge, and counter. So what if one made those two things the same movement? Surely that would be an exceptionally useful thing. It was a bit of a dumb idea, as ingenious as it was, but I thought perhaps I could make it work; the gears turned in my head as I probed at the mechanics of such a motion.

A lean would be required; the most obvious first choice was to lean to the outside of my stance, so in my case, to the right; I tilted my torso to about a forty-five degree angle with ease - I took quite a bit of pride in my flexibility - testing the balance implications of such a movement; certainly, it rendered me almost immobile as far as combat was concerned, if such a slant was performed without assistance, and I really did not think I could perform it in a pinch during a fight anyway, or at least it would not be very desirable to do so in the fact that it would be hard to come back from, so another element must be added; and what was usually lacking in a fighter's approach was proper footwork.

So, naturally, I added this element. Simply going with the flow of the motion, as my usually incapable brain often had to as opposed to devising a proper stratagem, I tilted once more, only this time I allowed my back foot to move outward with my torso, providing a proper anchor upon which I could maintain my balance; shortly following this I dragged my dominant foot across, so in the end my step was a full one. This action felt far more organic, and so I attempted it a second time, only with more celerity and less careful precision, leaning, stepping and then bringing across with the step. A natural habit was to stride before I leaned, which I felt deducted speed from the overall move, so it took a few tries before I was able to do away with such a petty instinct.

Although, looking upon it carefully, I realized that though his motion may have been useful as a simple dodge - it was doubtful, put perhaps - I had forgot to place a counter within it, as I had originally desired. Moving through this step a few more times, I attempted now to keep my fists held in a proper fighter's pose, and as I used my punching bag for the rough idea of an enemy's location, keeping my eyes locked upon it throughout the motion, a simple and almost unconscious evolution occurred; before I brought my step across, if indeed I needed to at all, I would jab.

It was a simple jab, as jabs often were; and though I doubted it would have dealt any serious damage to an attacker, any attack was a warding motion that must be carefully avoided, halting or at least slowing the flow of attacks one may have been keeping up. As I stepped outside my subordinate front hand was able to spear quite simply outward, aimed at the gut or chin area, able to be varied depending upon the sitch, I supposed. It wasn't even necessary to step across, really; it was simply a handy optional motion, as I could easily just slip myself back into an upright pose.

Doing so, I took but a short, if rather deep breath, and stared my figurative enemy right in the figurative eye. I was not done.[/ul][/justify]

[Fui]

+10

[Deleted]

[0 | 10]

As I stepped outside my subordinate front hand was able to spear quite simply outward, aimed at the gut or chin area, able to be varied depending upon the sitch, I supposed. It wasn't even necessary to step across, really; it was simply a handy optional motion, as I could easily just slip myself back into an upright pose. Doing so, I took but a short, if rather deep breath, and stared my figurative enemy right in the figurative eye. I was not done.

This motion I had practiced was quite handy for moving to the outside of a punch, but being able to perform it in opposite would also be handy... if not a necessity. For a moment, I once again envisioned the technique before I attempted to perform it. I traced a line with my eyes from the punching bag to my chest, experimentally drawing a line to myself with the finger of my right hand, tracing a trajectory of a fist as it would be swung at me. Arms were not usually swung quite that straight, I realized then, and grudgingly angle the path so it arced in more from my left.

After a few re-assertions of this motion, I raised my left hand in a rough example of the way I'd like to block, bringing it across the memorized flight pattern of my hypothetical enemy's punch as I pulled my whole body away to the right and raised my forearm to take the attack defensively. I would raised myself back to a neutral position and re-attempt this maneuver several times before I felt comfortable with it, and nodded once I did. I was actually taking it slowly and carefully this time around, which I was slightly impressing myself with - the motion almost felt more comfortable assembling it piece by piece, the slow completion bringing assurance with it.

Next I would start from a proper boxer's stance, raising my fists to their respective positions in front of and below my chin, before retrying the technique, shifting my whole stance across and taking the imaginary blow with my secondary hand, getting a feel for this more advanced stage. This time, as I moved out from my stance, I actually arced my right step in and around the imaginary blow, coming to the inside of my enemy's envisioned stance, taking the brunt of his attack on my upper left arm, the guard formation raised high.

With my whole body now to the side of my enemy, I would swing my primary fist in and around to dig into the bag with a close but still solid force, beating at it without too much power, but the area would be exposed enough that it would still cane. This motion was all performed quite quickly and with a good level of precision, but I did not feel it was quite enough. As I let myself rise up naturally, I would then perform it one final time with a vengeance, stepping out, blocking in the same motion, and pushing my hip in to dig at the enemy's gut. The solid contact of rubber on fist was quite pleasing to my ears, and as I returned to my boxing stance, I smiled at my progression.[/ul][/justify]

[Fui]

+8

[Deleted]

[8 | 10]

The solid contact of rubber on fist was quite pleasing to my ears, and as I returned to my boxing stance, I smiled at my progression. There was a certain fluidity entering my motions, a refinement that leaned towards speed where previously I had only been able to draw on raw strength. Such a sport would actually be a really good lesson for me, I realized. I was in such a good mood that I felt like repeating the motion just a few more times, this time as a whole, as opposed to divided mentally and physically into stagnant sections.

Forcing myself not to think on it too much, which was an odd sentence for me to even be thinking, I slipped to the inside, bringing my secondary arm across, taking the figurative punch with what I felt was adequate precision and stability, and finally lashing out with my punching hand to dig in at my opponent's metaphorical gut, my unguarded fist having no trouble beating into the hardened rubber, causing it to swing back on its chain. I quickly stepped back into my upright stance to avoid its return, moving back with just the same fluidity. Even after all the practice I had endured my fist was not harmed in the least. Indeed, the entire counter had all been one continuous movement, and I was properly satisfied with it, this time.[/ul][/justify]

[The Roar of the Falls]

+2

[Deleted]

[0 | 10]

Even after all the practice I had endured my fist was not harmed in the least. Indeed, the entire counter I had just finished performing had all been as one continuous movement, and I was properly satisfied with it, this time. I did not really feel that there was much more to get with that motion, and so I moved on from it without looking back, taking a small pause to stare thoughtfully at the slowly arcing sack upon its chain, massaging my right wrist. Not because it was actually damaged, but just because keeping the muscles warm was good practice. A thought was creeping up from the back of my mind, and it was not altogether welcome; it was, however, insistent, and it refused to be turned away. At this stage in my progression, I should invert my stance and see how I fared, it told me. I rolled my eyes and clenched my teeth in irritation, but conceded the point.

I mirrored my stance in opposite, instead bringing my right leg forward and my left one back, my fists aligned with their respective legs in a similar manner; instantly, I felt slightly uncomfortable, as such drastic direction-changing often caused. Grimacing, I rolled my shoulders, almost trying to put a reset on my mind, flowing molten instinct down into the new mold of my inverted posture, attempting to solidify it habit. I knew that in a combat situation, and hell, in life, being ambidextrous in any skill was useful and sometimes necessary, and for fighting this was especially true. You didn't always get to punch with the arm you wanted, or lead with your preferred leg. You had to be flexible, and adapt to change. Being comfortable with a mirrored posture was absolutely key to this.

Experimentally, I jabbed at the bag, this time with my secondary - I mean primary - I mean secondary - I mean - fuck, I mean forward arm, the right one, that was it, letting it lash out even as I still felt slightly out of my element. Producing such assured power was more difficult in a left-side-open upright stance was difficult, but after a couple of attempts I managed to regain the logistics of the natural hip influx that accompanied the jab and gave it that little extra oomph. I would of course also attempt this with a straight, turning my whole body in to the... right... ew, but finding the whole situation slightly less discomforting with every motion, every second with this posture formulated.

Something that I knew would be even more difficult, however, was actually moving my feet while facing this foreign, opposite direction. God, throwing a haymaker from one arm or the other was simple shit; this stuff? Fuck. Whole new level. It almost made me wonder just how it was I had managed to survive this far on Taijutsu alone when such basic stuff was so difficult for me, till I took a quick glance around at the increasingly dense layers of patrons and remembered that I could deck 'em all in one. I probably looked like an amateur to them, but they'd know otherwise if I actually got up into the ring with any of them. Irritated at their hypothetical scorn, I returned to my preoccupation with a scowl upon my face. Still, this kind of practice was good for me, and I knew it. It was just annoying.

I managed to make myself shift side to side in this mirror pose a few times, not falling onto my face, which was a definite plus; still, I kept at it, slipping across the plastic-mat-covered surface till the motion no longer felt too strange, adding the kind of minutia that made up the inside-and-outside-slipping counters I had previously practiced, such as head-ducks, body turns and other such stuff. It didn't actually take too long for the movements to seem normal again, though there was still that nagging sense of you're-doing-it-wrong. It was incredibly annoying, that the brain could not simply invert its motions perfectly. How hard could it be for a supercomputer that complex to flip a scene horizontally?

Eh, whatever. I was defeating its inability practice. In fact, that was basically a metaphor for my entire life. Defeat shortcomings with hard work; it'd always been that way, till grinding repetition had become so normal to me that though it still managed to exasperate me externally, it did not crush my spirit nor cause me dejection when I had to put so much more effort into stuff than others; that was just how it went, and though I begrudged it, it didn't really hurt... not anymore. Soon, or at least soon enough, I was sliding back and forth across the floor with fluidity, and was able to replicate even the more advanced dodging maneuvers and shit in opposite.

So, yeah. Fuck you too, idea. I can do it. So there.[/ul][/justify]

[The Roar of the Falls]

Learned;