Time To Beat Up Some Stuff [GYM] [T|O]

[Deleted]

The Rafu Sorerawo (ラフそれらを) Gym

But never mind all that. It's time to toughen up!

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I entered the gym casually, having been here many times before. I wasn't fully focused on where I was going, and as I slowly moved around the room, head bowed, I shifted my jaw experimentally with my hand. A little stiff, perhaps, but otherwise alleviated of pain. It had been broken only a few hours ago by a big bloke in the pub, but I guessed the medics at the hospital had done quite a good job on me.

I dropped my arm now and looked up. A few more paces, and I arrived at a likely looking punch bag. It was tall, black and cylindrical, extending from about my thigh to the top of my head. Through my my goggles, my vision was tinted ever so slightly red, but I could tell that the pack was deep black. I had brought my twin cestus, but for training purposes, neglected to use them.

To start out with I used the basic passive stance... This essentially meant I didn't change my posture at all, but rather stood just as nonchalantly as before, eying the bag just as I would an enemy while in this pose; not imposingly, but with caution. My hands coiled into fists at my sides, an almost imperceptible motion considering how long my sleeves were.

I briefly pondered how odd I must have looked among all the other boxers relentlessly beating at their dummies, but I frankly didn't care much. A few more seconds of concentration and I stepped in, trying to burst out of the casual bearing with as much speed as I could. I brought out my fist and hit the bag with a satisfying thwack. To most the impact would surely have jolted or perhaps even injured their hand, but I had hit objects of this kind far too many times to suffer from such pathetic things.

A second or so after I contacted, I stepped backwards, neutral again, keeping my gaze locked on the object, now swinging back and forth lightly. I was a snake poised to strike.[/ul]

[N A T S U M I]

+5; Learned.

[Deleted]

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[0 | 5]

I had been educating myself in the way of a docile, carefully passive stance that showed no inflection of deep rage, aggression or hatred towards my enemy (In this case, an entirely inanimate punching bag). One that simply involved standing still like a pretty little statue and not moving at all.

Bo-oring.

In the next phase of my currently back-to-basics training, I would actually take a real fighting stance with a true fighting mien. I established the stance's foundation by standing up in the usual way, with my legs hip-width apart, and then took a normal-sized step forward with my right foot. I leaned forward ever so slightly, keeping myself 'On my toes'.

The next step was to arrange my fists into the designated region. I lifted them up naturally and placed them in an inherent jabbing position, my actual hands sitting above my jawline and my elbows in position in front of my lower ribcage. I looked down briefly, feeling extremely pedantic - it was a posture for fighting, how bloody articulate did it really have to be? - and found that my whole torso was facing slightly to the right. I sighed in disinterest and shifted my hips toward the frontward target, rectifying the problem.

"Can I hit something now?" I thought irately.[/ul]

[Ancestor Febrie]

+5

[Deleted]

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[0 | 5]

I had finally achieved a 'proper' stance - something I frankly didn't give a shit about, but something that was, I supposed, necessary. It seemed so confining, not like the free-flowing, instinctive and unrestricted brawling I was used to. I could scarcely move in this stupid stance. How was I meant to move my feet? They were set forwards. I sort of stood there for a moment, the punching bag hanging aloft before me, chewing my tongue in thought.

I tried to picture myself from a third-person view. How my stance was aligned, configured and shaped. That was one thing. Mechanically figuring out how to enable motion in such a limiting posture was yet another. I squinted a lot, concentrating for a good half minute or so - I wasn't good at this sort of thing - till I finally figured it out.

Firstly, there was forward movement. In my opinion, the most crucial move in a battle. I started by sliding my left foot forward - it left the ground for a moment - while simultaneously ejecting off my back - aka right - foot. I shunted forward slightly, my back bending back, a sign of instability, I was sure. Someone more dedicated to this sort of stuff probably would've tried again, but I reckoned I could count on myself not to make the same mistake.

I kept the punching bag as my centre of focus, trying not to gaze down at my feet - that would kill me, in a fight. I copied the maneuver once again, in reverse this time, leaping backwards. I tried moving forward, back, forward again, trying to keep the moves smooth and fluid. After about a minute of practice, I decided to shunt myself left and right. I moved around the bag, left to right. I discovered this was a bit more difficult, and I regularly lost my balance.

I rectified this by shifting my back ever so slightly opposite to the way I moved. This compensation seemed to work; after a couple more tries, I seemed to be moving fluently enough. Not like I could while formlessly brawling, but good enough.[/ul]

[N A T S U M I]

+5; Learned.

[Deleted]

[OOC: Whoa Thanks Natsumi ]

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[0 | 5]


All this basic pansy bullshit was really starting to get on my nerves; I wasn’t really sure why I was doing it – it was very uncharacteristic for me to be practicing all this structured stuff that, in my experience, didn’t have any effect on actual fighting prowess whatsoever. Little nippy jabs and shin kicks were for wimps. Or at least it was. Now I was doing it. Oh wow. That was arrogant, even for me.

Nevertheless, I was about to train myself in the most basic of basic of basic fighting principles; making a fist.

Grudgingly though, I admitted that I’d sometimes jarred my hand while punching without my cestus; even I wasn’t stupid enough to deny that this was a result of forgetting the fundamental fist position and holding my hand loosely when punching. And sometimes it really fucking hurt. I knew that I had to cement that axiom into my head, or I’d suffer for it.

I essentially kept my stance - though I slacked off a little on my footing – while I practiced. My fists, of course, dropped completely, and I gazed now at the open palm of my right hand. I flexed my fingers experimentally, clenching and unclenching my fist. As I suspected, my fist wasn’t quite right; my thumb was in position, but my fingers dug into my palm just a little too low down, resulting in a limp fist.

So instead I used an old, amateur method; I progressively curled my fingers one by one, starting with the pinky, then the ring finger, then working my way up to thumb, forming a kind of wave. This fist felt much more adamant. I sampled its power by hitting the bag a few times. It seemed able to withstand much more punishment. I tried to brand this moment into my cerebrum. I’d fractured one too many fingers with that dumb-ass mistake.[/ul]

[KARKAT]

learned.

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