Training Grounds
“So, how do you feel? Ready for the real deal?” Dominic asks.
“I could tell those weren’t the strokes of a beginner,” Jasper adds. As she circles a panting Uren faced by a smiling Dominic, her words are nearly drowned out by the loud fighting surrounding them.
“Are we at the part where I get my ass kicked yet?”
Jasper smiles. “You could say that. I hope you won’t mind getting your ass kicked by a girl.”
Dominic makes a show of glancing at her with a questioning look on his face. “But I thought you were the one doing it? Are we asking one of the girls to come help?”
Jasper freezes. Under her narrowed gaze, Uren holds in his laugh by coughing into his hand.
“You’re making things harder for me, brother.”
Dominic smiles. “Someone needs to keep things interesting around here.”
“Enough. Make yourself useful and go put those things away… Without throwing them.”
Dominic lowers his raised hand as he winks at Jasper. “Take it easy, yeah?”
She watches him go with a frown, though to Uren, she doesn’t seem particularly upset.
“Is he always so…?”
“Intense? Obnoxious? Pretty much. I’m used to it, I suppose.”
“You do seem very close. I’m jealous.”
Uren smiles to make sure she won’t take his comment too seriously, though, to his surprise, something akin to frustration flashes through her expression as she shakes her head.
“Enough about Dominic, my father is ready to watch us.”
Indeed, as Uren follows her gaze, he notices Master Utama walking up to the small area they seem to have reserved for themselves once more. The large man smiles, nodding at them.
“For starters, our school believes in allowing new styles to flourish rather than have students learning one specific Art at a time,” Jasper begins, “For those of us who wear red, it’ll be almost a given we’ve mastered at least one of the styles, which is to say, we’re advanced enough in the Arts to have our own take in how it should be done. You follow?”
Uren nods. “I assume you’re about to explain which styles are the most common?”
“You catch on fast. Indeed, while almost no student here is the same due the large number of dojos, different Masters, and fighting styles, the Institute does have three particular styles fit to describe almost every student trained here… Which is somewhat ironic, I suppose. Suffice to say we’ve raised some of the most famous fighters worldwide over the last decades, names I’m sure you’ve heard of before.”
Uren scoffs. “Elysium always wins everything. I wonder why they still bother to have international events against you guys.”
“Hey, you’re a part of us now. And it’s my job to make sure you’re up to standard.”
Jasper raises her hand, spreads her feet slightly apart, and closes her fists, which Uren takes as a clue to assume his own fighting stance.
“I guess we’re really doing it.”
“Don’t worry, almost any injury we might suffer would be gone in a matter of hours. Focus on your defense, but don’t be afraid of giving your all to hit me back either.”
Uren nods. Instead of focusing on Jasper’s steel eyes, his attention is spread throughout her entire body, especially her legs and feet; it doesn’t matter the style, any movement has to start from there.
“The first style, the one I’m about to show you, is the one my father’s dojo specializes in. Ready?”
A minute change; Jasper’s center of gravity shifts forward, her leg tensing almost imperceptibly, before Uren quickly steps back, narrowly dodging the high kick aimed at his chin, a cold shiver descending his spine as he feels a gust of wind against his skin.
And as Jasper leg descends, so does the rest of her body, turning her kick into a lightning-fast sweep Uren has no choice but to jump over.
“Watch it!”
Uren quickly steps back as he lands, struggling to recover his posture in time for… Except Jasper is nowhere to be found in his field of view, and Uren feels his stomach grow cold as he notices light footsteps rapidly approaching from his left.
He ducks, assuming correctly, or perhaps simply being lucky, that Jasper would aim high again. Still, Jasper rotates her body seemingly thoughtlessly as she lands on his other side, kicking once more, first low, striking his leg and stealing his balance, then high, producing a loud pa that echoes across the large dojo as she lashes her leg against his hastily put one arm guard.
Through his blurry vision, Uren is quick to punch in the general direction of his opponent, hoping it’ll detain their next move for long enough to allow some sort of breathing room.
“Bro, you’re not paying attention! Her footsteps! Focus on her footsteps!”
Uren thoughts are scrambled, his legs shaking, but Dominic’s warning burns brightly through his sluggishness, allowing him to focus again, right on time to notice Jasper’s light footsteps coming from his right.
And yet, just as he turns in her direction, Jasper abruptly stops her run by stomping down, rotating her body, and transferring her momentum through a powerful kick aimed at his stomach.
“Fuck!”
…
‘Hold.’
Jasper heeds her father’s words as she watches her opponent give several steps back, his expression showcasing visible pain as he shakes the arm used to block both her kicks.
What incredible reflexes. Most of her peers would have found themselves in the infirmary by now. Has she lost her edge?
‘You’ve done fine. Yet, many of your movements still lack finesse. I understand your desire to use Wind, but sometimes, Sharp will have the job done. When he jumped, you could’ve chained another kick before he landed. Why run away and waste the opportunity? Understand?’
Jasper sighs. Her father is correct, of course. As always, she had a plan and followed through with it, unable to adapt to circumstances changing mid-fight. Most opponents at her level would’ve used a counter there, even if they weren’t certain of her position, but Uren didn’t, and because she assumed he would…
‘Don’t dwell on it. We’ll work on your awareness later. For now, what do you think?’
Jasper meets Uren’s gaze as he smiles at her, half doubled over himself and panting heavily.
“Was that… Sorry… Which style was that again…? It was… a bit too fast for me to catch much…”
“Sharp Wind,” Jasper explains, “A style focused on unexpected, quick attacks, and taking advantage of an opponent’s limited field of view. I could go down the list of Arts involved in it later, but for now, know that a master of Sharp Wind would have their footsteps completely silent.”
Jasper throws Dominic a dirty look, though as expected, the tall boy simply smiles at her and shrugs.
“Makes sense,” Uren says, grunting as he straightens his body and laughs, “I have to say, yours were already pretty hard to notice. Should I be concerned about sudden attacks from now on?”
“I apologize,” Jin interjects, “I was the one who requested Jasper to take it as she would a real fight. I had a feeling you’d be up to the challenge, Mister Juric, and I’m glad I decided to give you the opportunity. How do you feel?”
“My arm is numb,” Uren admits, shaking it in a joking way. “And I’m not sure my stomach will recover any time soon.”
If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
Jin walks up to Uren and begins the usual health checks done for a student after a fight, although Jasper doubts Uren will have to visit the infirmary for now. A visit during break or before going home will take care of something so minor.
“You look upset.”
Jasper glances up at Dominic as he approaches her, mixed feelings produced by his presence causing her mood to worsen almost immediately.
“Was it because I helped him?”
“I’m not upset. He fought well, and I didn’t really expect your warnings to matter.”
Dominic hums as he turns his gaze to Uren. “Neither did I. He’s got some fire in him, our little bro.”
Jasper rolls her eyes, though she is secretly proud, and jealous, of how easily he’s able to make new friends. “We don’t know if he’s going to join yet.”
“C’mon, everybody knows people just stick to whatever they’re assigned to.”
“One of the other styles could fit him better.”
“With his reflexes? Hum… Maybe. How nimble do you think he is?”
“Not terribly nimble. Roaring Thunder would be my guess. Definitely not Formless.”
“But he could do ours fine enough, yeah? No reason to change if it works for him.”
Jasper stares up at Dominic as he smiles at her, something jittering in her stomach over the vision of his easy grin.
“So, who’s doing Formless? We’re both pretty terrible at it, anyway.”
“In that case, may I volunteer?”
A sudden silence gradually spreads throughout the dojo as Jasper and Dominic turn their gazes to face a trio of newcomers in red kimonos, Jasper’s attention quickly being drawn by the person at the group’s head, wearing half red, half black.
Her skin resembles a snowflake, her eyes and hair the darkest night.
“Hello, hello! Please, don’t stop for me now!”
In the sudden silence, the princess’s lighthearted tone has no trouble traveling throughout the entire place.
How could Jasper, or anyone here, not recognize Seijuro Aston, Elysium’s First Princess?
***
So, this is him.
Seijuro greets the room of students with a practiced easy smile, disregarding their surprise, and Melinda’s sidelong glance, as she bows before walking in.
“Master Utama, I apologize if I’ve interrupted your class.”
The tall man’s visible surprise lasts but a moment before being replaced by a welcoming smile showcasing nothing, although the boy standing next to him seems all but frozen in place.
“But how could the pride of our people ever not receive the welcome she deserves in her own home?” Utama begins as he greets them by joining his fists, before turning toward his students and shouting, “And how do we greet our fellow sisters and brother?!”
“Welcome, Sister Seijuro! Welcome, Sister Melinda! Welcome, Brother Aden!”
“Sometimes, I hate how everybody knows our names,” Melinda murmurs under a sigh as she bows toward the other students.
“Now back to work!” Utama finishes.
The Master walks in their direction with the same welcoming smile he seems to wear for most occasions, neither fast nor slow, and Seijuro is happy to observe her surroundings as she waits for his approach, absently aware of the looks thrown in her direction, of the whispers quickly spreading throughout the place.
“Your Highness, to what do I own the pleasure?” Utama speaks as he reaches them, bowing deeper than Seijuro would’ve expected from someone of his position.
“Please, Seijuro or Miss Aston will do.” Seijuro clears her throat as she returns his bow by curtsying. “Truly, I had no intention of causing such a scene.”
“Miss Aston it is, then. Am I correct in assuming you haven’t come here for a trial class? Perhaps Miss Cornell or Mister Morris have decided to challenge our humble dojo at last?”
Utama’s smile diminishes the harshness of his words, though the female student Seijuro recognizes as Jasper Utama, his daughter, seems to have no qualms about throwing daggers their way, her expression making it clear who might face such a challenge.
“In fact…” Seijuro makes a show of gazing at her surroundings until her eyes fall upon the quiet prince, moment at which she smiles. “I thought I would welcome Crecia’s prince personally, given we haven’t yet had the pleasure of meeting. Melinda and Aden are simply accompanying me.”
His eyes locked against Seijuro, the boy bows as the group’s attention shifts to him, his movements showcasing an easiness created from practice. “The pleasure is mine, Miss Aston. I didn’t expect… I’m surprised you went through the trouble of looking for me. Is there something I can help with?”
Seijuro sighs, her expression turning serious. “First, allow me to offer my condolences for the crises befallen your country, and my apologies, my personal apologies, for how little aid Elysium has deployed despite having the means. My father has done his best to create a country safe from the perils plaguing our world… However, sometimes we, living inside our bubble, forget the ones living outside. Truly, I’m sorry.”
Seijuro shakes her head, allowing the silence proceeding her words to extend over the immediate surroundings of their small group.
“I… I’m very grateful for your words, Miss Aston.”
Seijuro nods, pretending not to notice the boy’s visible shock. “Master Utama, I couldn’t help but notice Uren was in the process of learning of our school’s styles… Perhaps I could help to demonstrate Formless Water? I know it isn’t much, but…”
Jin Utama clears his throat, and for a moment Seijuro wonders if he’s looking for an excuse to refuse, but once their eyes meet, only a carefree smile occupies the Master’s expression.
“There’d be no one better than Miss Aston, of course. Please, the floor is yours.”
Seijuro smiles as she walks by the group and heads toward the empty space beyond them. Although she’s aware of Jasper and Aden exchanging heated glares, of Master’s Utama discomfort, and Melinda’s confusion, the overall plan still stands intact, and nothing else truly matters.
Seijuro ties her hair as she smiles at Uren, who followed after her almost meekly as if waiting for a trap to sprout underneath his feet at any moment.
“You don’t need to look so worried. You know, I don’t bite. And Formless Water is a style focused mostly on defense.”
“You’re… No offense, but you’re much different than I had imagined.”
“Is that so?”
Seijuro assumes her fighting stance with practiced ease.
“Like I said, Formless Water is a style focused on defense, and using an opponent’s strength against themselves. Why don’t you attack me so I can show you?”
…
‘Father…’
As he watches Seijuro casually entering her fighting stance, Jin Utama sighs. It is clear Seijuro Aston came here in order to face the boy, but to what purpose? Should he interrupt her plans and risk facing the consequences?
‘Patience. I understand how you feel, but there’s little we can do to help him now. Watch. There’s much you could learn from her.’
Uren begins to carefully round his opponent, his movements followed by Seijuro’s gaze almost casually, until the boy suddenly rushes forward, turning what seemed at principle a series of quick jabs into a powerful right which Seijuro moves into as she grabs his arm, steps in between his legs, and leverages his weight against her body…
For a moment, Uren’s body seems almost weightless, before it crashes against the dojo’s tatami, causing it to tremble slightly.
Dominic wears a painful expression as he steps by Utama’s side and meets his gaze. “Ouch… She made it look easy, eh?”
Except for a single step, Seijuro has yet to move from her initial position. Glancing down at her opponent, she smiles apologetically at Uren as he rolls and stands once more.
“Sorry, but I warned you. Please give it your best to hit me, otherwise, there won’t be much of a point to this.”
Uren nods.
This time, instead of hushing forward, he takes advantage of his superior arm length to strike from afar, slowly but surely encroaching on his opponent… Although Seijuro seems to have no problems pinpointing his punches, changing their trajectory by using her palms just at the right moment or simply moving her body out of the way.
In Dominic’s words, she makes it look easy, despite how much concentration and practice such a technique should require.
“The fuck? Is she even human?” Dominic exclaims.
“You’ve seen her fights before,” Jasper counters. “It’s always the same, why does it still surprise you?”
‘And what exactly am I supposed to be learning from this?’
‘Pay attention to how she watches her opponent’s movements, adapting to them rather than forcing her way through. Watch.’
Seijuro’s movements seem to almost mimic her opponent’s, an instant reaction produced to every move Uren throws her way.
A first punch is met by a palm.
A second is dodged by a hair’s breadth.
A knee is sidestepped.
An elbow finds only air.
Never leaving her opponent’s striking range, Seijuro moves almost as if dancing, though despite her smile, her eyes are constantly moving throughout Uren’s body in a cold, calculated manner Jin doubts his cheering students have bothered to notice.
‘She’s playing with him,’ Jasper sends through, her disgust plain, ‘I swear she loses half of her fights on purpose. Does she even deserve her Rank?’
Jin sighs over his daughter’s short-sightedness. ‘Playing? Has your jealousy blinded you this greatly?’
“You got this bro!”
Jasper infuriated glance bothers Jin none, and he simply gives her the cool gaze she has learned to understand as unbeatable before nodding toward the fight.
And as if on cue, Uren’s high kick is easily ducked under, except this time, Seijuro rotates her body as she lowers it, sweeping Uren’s supporting leg from underneath him in a single, fluid movement.
The boy rolls away as soon as his back hits the ground, but Jin’s gaze remains locked on the smiling princess.
Just what in the world is she planning this time?
…
She’s having fun.
Losing herself in it.
Just… An authentic mistake during a spar.
Seijuro spares her excited audience a glance as her opponent rolls away and repositions himself. It’s obvious most of them have abandoned their own training to watch at this point, just as she knew they would.
Rile them up… Make them yours.
Seijuro grows her smile as she performs a completely unnecessary backflip to dodge her opponent’s sweep, then sidesteps his rising knee and lightly taps his back, sending him stumbling forward.
Now.
A sudden apologetic expression as he has his back turned to her; As if she realizes she has gone too far.
Then, “barely” dodge his flying roundhouse kick by stepping back, panic flashing so fast only the cameras may catch it.
And as the opponent touches the ground, legs bent and guard raised, they’ll notice your sudden seriousness, but not the panic, not the apology, and they’ll…
Lose themselves.
Uren abruptly dashes forward, faster than ever before, punching, then kneeing, as Seijuro struggles to meet his blows with her own palm and knee, almost touching her opponent’s face as a result.
Blinded to what stands in front of them.
Uren is quick to turn their standoff into a rotating elbow which Seijuro barely ducks under, then to raise his leg at the end of his movement, before descending his heel toward Seijuro’s head.
By eyes filled with hatred.
Uren’s heavy footsteps sound loudly across the large room as he chases after Seijuro in their dangerous dance, closer to hitting her than ever with every vicious blow sent.
Fast punches are diverted by her palms and knuckles or dodged by a small head tilt. Strong kicks or roundhouse strikes are jumped over, ducked under, or stepped aside.
Uren’s kick misses her chin by less than a centimeter, causing her calm expression to waver and her steppes to falter. A punch scratches her cheek. A knee barely misses her stomach.
In the sudden silence, someone gasps…
And for that, she knows she has already won.
Seijuro hardens herself, and, watching Uren’s movements with clinical precision, purposefully steps in the way of his punch with a panicked expression.