“Today’s lesson will be very simple. We’ll get you started on the most basic technique of wind martial arts, the open palm strike.” The instructor told the group of recruits gathered around him.

Snake moved over to the centre of the room and gestured for the recruits to follow him. He stood with his hands on his hips waiting for everyone to settle down, they were all excited, especially the boys, Wren didn’t know any teenage boy who hadn’t dreamed of learning martial arts and becoming a total badass. The bright white of the instructors robes contrasted nicely with the black of his tattoos, the most prominent tattoo was the one creeping up the side of his neck. Believe it or not, it was a snake. It made Wren wonder whether the instructor’s real name was Snake or if it was just a nickname after the tattoo, after all, who looked at a baby and thought, I’m gonna name you Snake.

Then again, Wren couldn’t say much about names. His wasn’t exactly common, and he had no idea who had been the one to give it to him. He didn’t know whether it was the first orphanage that had given the name, or the person that had abandoned him. It didn’t really matter. It was his, it was the only thing he owned.

“I will now be performing a demonstration, watch carefully. It’s the simplest technique so even you guys should pick it up quickly.” Snake said.

The instructor was barefoot, Wren only noticed when he took a stance on the cold tiled wood of the floor. The stance was obviously well practiced, Snake moved into it with a fluidity that could only be attained from years and years of hard work and dedication. He stood with his feet shoulder width apart, but with his left foot slightly in front of the right. His hands were raised to about shoulder height but bent at the elbow, the left hand in line with the left foot.

“This is the beginning stance of the open palm strike, notice how my left hand is lined up with my left foot, and my right hand is lined up with my right foot, do not get these mixed up or it won’t have the same effect.” Snake told them.

When all of the recruits had nodded along in understanding, he moved on. He pushed his right palm forward quickly and powerfully, his left palm pulling back. His hand pushed through the air and an audible bang was heard. The recruits gasped.

“That is the first form.”

He took a step forward so that now his right foot was in front of the left and reset his hands. He pushed his left palm forward and pulled his right back, the same audible bang resonating throughout the hall. It was the exact same move from the first, but just the opposite hand.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Snake took closed his eyes and took a deep breath, you could see his chest fill with air as he inhaled. He held the breath for a couple seconds before exhaling and then returning to a normal standing position. He turned to the class.

“And that ladies and gentlemen, is the open palm strike.”

The class burst into a round of applause, wowed by the instructor’s demonstration. To think that they would be able to do something similar, perform a blow so powerful that it sounded throughout the air, it renewed them with a new sense of excitement.

“Time to warm up. Five laps of the hall and then stretching. Go!” Snake said.

~

The recruits were stood in four lines of ten, practicing their stances. The hall was big, about the size of a football pitch, so they all had plenty of room around them to practice. Wren was in the third row, on the far right side. He’d didn’t know how long he’d been at it but it felt like ages. They hadn’t yet been allowed to incorporate the palm thrust into their practice, Snake had told them that they needed to get their footwork right before they could move on. Snake would come round, one by one, checking each of their stances, giving tips and pointers before moving on.

He’d finally gotten around to Wren and began to look him over. They were of a similar height, Snake only being about half a head taller, but where Wren was all skin and bones, Snake was hard taught muscle.

“Bend your knees more boy.” Snake told him.

Wren followed the instruction, almost crouching. He could feel the strain on his body, having been in that position for so long.

“Straighten your feet, point them forward, in the direction of your target.”

“What target? I haven’t got a target? Unless you want me to hit them?” Wren said, gesturing to the recruit in front of him.

Snake looked at him in shock before his face turned deadly serious.

“What was that boy?” Snake asked, his tone eerily level.

Wren gulped, feeling the full weight of the instructor’s death stare on him.

“Nothing.” Wren squeaked. “Thank you for the instruction.”

“That’s what I thought.” Snake said, his features calming down and returning to a cool normality. “Remember that the power comes from your core, so you want to tense and release when you strike.”

Wren focused on the instructor’s advice, straightening his feet and bending his legs further. He held his palms in line with their respective feet. He felt more strain on his body, what muscles he had going taught and burning.

“No pain, no gain.” He whispered to himself.

Snake, having heard this, chuckled.

“That’s the spirit.” He said. “Good. You’re a quick study.”

“Thank you, sir.” Wren said, allowing himself to feel a small amount of pride at the mans praise.

Snake moved on, going to the fourth and final row to inspect their forms.

Wren held his position, forcing his body to become used to the strain. If he ever wanted to be as fluid and natural as Snake had been, then he would have to grit his teeth and bare it.

This would be a long session.