1x1 -- Sarish and Stormy

[stormy tom]

James felt like he'd turned a page. His new chapter was really starting. He was here. And he was going to do everything he could to stay.
He could remember the last time he'd felt like this, when his hockey team had signed him on. Things had gotten better and better as he'd grown in popularity. Things were so different now, and this fresh feeling so much more satisfying. He was gaining purpose again, but not for the purpose of fame and glory but for self betterment and healing. Not to mention he was gaining a friend.
And a friend was what he had always wanted.
He entered the bathroom and started to wipe all the blood off of himself. When he emerged his was clean. A little bruised, but clean. The split in his eyebrow and cheekbone almost looked good on his face. He had a solid face, and even though it was generally stern it was a handsome one.
His hands were scarred from his previous fights. During hockey they'd toughened up, but now his hands were starting to get soft again.
He headed off for lunch, then went to approach Sarish again. His limp seemed to have improved considerably.
"Well, what's lesson one?" James asked, licking his lip. He was ready. There was a fire in his eyes. He was ready to learn.

(This is so short I'm sorry T-T you've been giving me these wonderful posts. I can lengthen it when I get home if you like )

[Sarish]

(Please don't worry about it! I know it can be hard to find something to add to a post at times... It happens to me more than I'd care to admit xD More than a few of my posts have been pretty darn short. Besides, I expect our posts will be pretty lacking when they are working on physical training... There's not a whole lot of thought going on xD)

Sarish returned to his room to meditate for a while, mind positively reeling. Tonight, he promised himself. Tonight I'll give myself time to sort all of these thoughts out. That was, of course, if he didn't fall asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow again, though he expected that sleep wouldn't come too easily for a few days. The young master sat in the lotus position on the floor in his room, struggling to clear his mind, his back still giving him grief. For the half hour that he sat there, he probably only managed five solid minutes of meditation. He sighed, deciding that it wouldn't be that easy. Tonight.

The monk exited his room, wandering back through the halls with no real purpose, the movement giving him something to focus on. Right, left, right, left... he thought as he watched his feet. Footsteps approached and he raised his head to see James striding towards him, eyes bright. Sarish gave himself a moment to actually look at James, immediately noticing how his limp seemed to be less noticeable. I wonder if that's his determination, or the atmosphere of the monastery. Maybe both. His eyes flicked over James once, coming to rest back on his face. The Canadian was certainly fit, which he had already observed, though more so than he had originally thought. On top of that, he was quite handsome, the cuts on his face somehow accentuating his features nicely. All-in-all, there was no doubt that he was a good looking man. He must be popular with the women. Sarish thought, fighting back a grin. I wonder if he is as grumpy with them as he is with the rest of us. James was a stark contrast to Sarish, who was quite plain in appearance, shorter than average and sporting small feet, the only thing making him stand out-if you wanted to call it as such-was his blue eyes, which was an uncommon eye color in the Himalayas.

Sarish smiled at James. While his first lesson would usually be one in relaxing, which would later turn into meditation, he doubted that the excitement that he saw in the Canadian's eyes would allow him that right now. It would be better to let him burn off some energy first.

"How about a little combat training? Nothing too strenuous, but a little session that will help me gauge you abilities," he respectfully doubted that James would have enough skill to pose a challenge, but he would have to be careful. It would be easier on both of their permanent injuries if it turned out that James hadn't had much combat training, but Sarish knew that the man would surprise him, as per usual.

[stormy tom]

(A haha good XD)

"Sounds good to me," James replied with a grin. Truthfully, he was equally stern with everyone, women, men, old, young. It didn't matter. "I'll warn you, I've been in more fights than I've had birthdays."
James settled comfortably into a challenging stance. It bled into his eyes and his attitude too. He would be afraid to punch this monk, friend or no friend. "And I don't pull my punches."
James was definitely ready to punch again, despite his already split knuckles. The flickering light returned to his eyes. It was truly electric. If one thing James had it was passion. He leaned his weight to his good leg and lifted his fists to protect his face.
His heart rate was already increasing. The man hadn't seemed to have considered that the master was a master for a reason.
"Let's see what you've got, Bruce Willis," James said. "I'll try not to hurt you."

[Sarish]

Sarish observed James with amusement for a moment, the man's excitement clearly shown on his face. That small, raw hint of powers did not go unnoticed, either. "While I appreciate your enthusiam," he said with a widening grin, "it might be best if we take this outside. I'm not sure a hallway is a good enough field for a proper spar." Sarish referred to the narrow space, the old wood floors, and most of the doors which were paper-screen doors. He turned on his heel, folded his hands behind his back, and strolled casually down the hallway, out one of the side doors, and out onto the training grounds, easily ignoring that he was not wearing any sandals.

A few others were also training there, and while a few curious glances were sent their way, they quickly returned to whatever they were practicing, knowing fully well that any lapse in attentiveness could be their downfall when sparing with a trained master who knew how to pick out these moments of weakness as easily as spotting a candle flame in a dark room.

Sarish strode a few paces away from James, turned around to face him, and gave him a little bow. "There. Now we may spar." In truth, Sarish meant to block anything James threw at him while testing his strength and technique as opposed to actually fighting him, though he knew that that plan could fly right out of the metaphorical window if James showed that he was capable at predicting moves and exploiting weaknesses; Sarish was particularly quick, but could not throw many heavy hitting blows. Not to mention that, while most days he could power through and sudden pain from his back like it wasn't even there, any blow from behind had the potential to be crippling. The only way that anyone would know that, however, is if they knew of his injury or if he was having a particularly painful day and exhibited a stiff, sometimes limping gait. The young master widened his stance, uncurling his fingers so that they made a straight line from fingertip to wrist, bringing his hands up to just above waist height, his dominant hand in front of the other. He would wait and see.

[stormy tom]

oh what I could do to you with a hockey stick in my hand, James thought. He followed and took his stance. The taller, bigger man stepped out of his shoes and pushed them aside with his foot. Damn right he was going to attack first. He advanced with purpose, the experience of too many fist fights behind him. Perhaps not skilled in many ways, but he was still a strong fighter.
Against a master? He'd have to find out.

James went in for a strong right hook, aiming for the monk's face. His stance was not as strong as it used to be. He hadn't fought since before the accident. Everything was different now. His stability wasn't what it used to be, and he hadn't managed to adapt for that just yet.
The Canadian pulled his arm back the other way, aiming his elbow at the monks other cheek.
The thrill of a fight returned to him. James had always loved the adrenaline battle gave him. He had always been keen to seek a thrill. It filled him up, made him feel alive, and he'd forgotten what that felt like since breaking his leg.
He took care to use his good leg as an anchor, pivoting with it. His bad leg gently touched the ground as he twisted and put it down, the lifted it up and pivot again.

[Sarish]

There, Sarish thought, noticing how James' eyes lit up ever so slightly right before he attacked. Either he's just excited and a little or sloppy, or just pretty readable. That can be fixed. The monk decided as he raised his arm, letting it take the impact of the hook easily. The move had a lot of power behind it, but it was a slow move... Or at least it was to Sarish, who had learned mostly quick and sharp martial arts forms.

He watched James' pull his arm back to attack again, this time grabbing his elbow as it came towards him. He let it go, taking a step back. "You'll have to be a little faster than that, James." He commented, making a quick decision to show him that these power-based moves wouldn't get him very far. He raised himself up on the balls of his feet, shifted his weight forward slightly, and took a large step forward, pivoting on the foot and leaping backwards, now behind James. The movement was almost instantaneous, and had been practiced many times before. As an afterthought, he realized he should have tapped the Canadian on the shoulder, like a warning of what he could have done if he had been actively participating in the spar. Next time, he promised.

(I'm sorry ;~; I feel like Sarish had to be able to teach James something so he might not be able to land many blows, if at all... I can change it if you want, though.)

[stormy tom]

(No no its fine!)

James was shocked when his blows were stopped. Well, maybe not shocked... he spun again as the smaller man practically dematerialized and reappeared behind him. The Canadian spun around. If he'd just been on an ice rink with a hockey stick in his hand things would be so different.
Determined not to lose, or to at least land one blow, James punched again, faster this time but poorly aimed. In a brawl it hadn't always mattered if punches were perfectly aimed because they would generally be showered on the opponent and we're meant to steadily wear them down. There was no grace and no special technique. Just pure brute force.
The man was not trying to land any blows of his own James realised. does he think I'm some sort lightweight? Like he'll break me? Well I'll show him he'd damn well better start getting on the offensive before I take him down. Stubborn, arrogant James was unaccustomed to losing a fist fight. He'd already lost one today.
He ran at the monk and went for a tackle, throwing his bulk toward the man. This generally worked and was always a good way to slam somebody down and know the wind out of them. Sometimes their helmet would fly off and James would practically be invited to go for a few solid punches. He'd have plenty of time to get his gloves off and everything.

[Sarish]

Sarish watched James carefully, noting the surprise in his eyes when he blocked both of his blows, and the frustrated anger when he dodged behind him. It was clear that the Canadian was not used to losing a fight. Another punch flew his way, this one even sloppier than the last, and Sarish simply moved his head to the side as the balled up fist flew over his shoulder. He becomes unfocused when the outcome of the fight becomes tipped against him.

The monk stood his ground as James charged at him like a raging bull, waiting until the very last second to leap out of the way gracefully. He shot out a hand to tap the Canadian on the shoulder and on his side in quick succession as he passed, folding his hands behind his back calmly. I wouldn't assume that James has had any formal combat training, though I don't recognize his style either. It could be a western technique, he mused, his eyes locked onto his adversary.

"Look for a weak point on your opponent, James. Try jabbing instead of punching," he suggested, striking the air with a quick jab to demonstrate, robes shifting easily with his movement, the garment designed to allow the wearer to move freely.

[stormy tom]

James landed on his chest, but quickly rolled sideways. He'd felt those taps, what he assumed were Sarish's gentle way of showing him where he might have been struck had the monk actually wanted to hurt him.
The sensible part of him was grateful the monk wasn't totally annihilating him, while the part akin to a raging bull was insulted that the monk didn't think he could take a hit. James wisely summoned his willpower and listened to the sensible part. It was probably the best decision he'd made all day.
The man leapt to his feet. He didn't have much going for him skill wise, but James was strong, and he knew how to get back to his feet.
"I don't know what the hell that is," he growled as Sarish told him to jab. Oh, he just showed me. And then it occurred to him that Sarish could probably tell that he didn't know what a jab was. Again, his frustration flared up and he swung wildly again in a flurry of rage, not caring where exactly he hit (though he knew he wouldn't succeed in that part).
A weak point? Well, I am at least twice as big as he is, James thought proudly. No, surely that's not what he means...
James already knew what his own weak point was: it was rhetorical. But Sarish? Sarish hadn't displayed any weak points. James practically held his up on a sign adorned with flashing lights. But Sarish? He's subtle. He doesn't let things show. He's in control.
This morning... he let it slip. James remembered. He fought past the cloudiness of his own anger and determination to think for a couple of seconds. The gears clicked and turned, grinding a little at first from disuse, but they started to turn smoothly again.
James had learned a lot about muscles out of obligation when he'd started getting seriously into sports. He'd learned about stretching, and how to properly look after his body as he worked to get it to the required standard. He'd learned how to be fit, how to work certain muscle groups.
If Sarish's back was still bothering him from this morning, then James had his weakness. He just had to get the monk to use the muscles that were sore, and that would throw him off. Lower back. If he steps wrong that's gotta hurt. The right angle would tug on those muscles. James had already found out he wasn't going to be able to throw the man down and attack that weak spot with brute force.
He spun a kick, aiming for the soft flesh between the ribs and hip with his bad leg, knowing that he would probably miss and it wouldn't do any damage to his leg. He'd pulled back on force anyway, just in case. Some part of him wouldn't allow him to consciously do such a thing anyway.

[Sarish]

Sarish dodged out of the way of the wild punch with ease, patiently taking James' anger with a grain of salt. He must be used to winning fights, the monk guessed, although it was possible that the Canadian's rage was due to his proud personality. Then another thought occurred to him. Did he fight often in Canada? When would he have occasion to? I don't think he is the type to throw a punch when anything angers him... But I suppose I don't know him well enough to know, yet. He's definitely got some sort of technique, though. I'll have to try and ask him later, he conceded, turning back to the situation at hand.

The young master waited as James paused, obviously considering what he had suggested. It's better that he take the time to learn this now instead of in an actual spar against someone. And then... there. Sarish watched as an answer slowly dawned on his opponent, watched as the man's eyes flicked over his midsection for just a second. And then he was striding forward with purpose again, his bad leg swinging out towards the monk's side. Sarish sidestepped, angling himself so that he was stepping both to the side and back at the same time. He blinked involuntarily as the muscles in his back gave a sharp protest, a grin spreading over his face.

"Very good, James! If you remember nothing else from today, remember this; everyone has a weakness. It could physical or it could be mental. Some people are too confident, too cocky, and some are held back by their self-doubt. Some are so focused on what their opponent is doing that they forget to pay attention to their surroundings, and vice versa. Some are so preoccupied with goading or taunting you that they become sloppy. Others see that they are at a disadvantage and effectively give up. Most people aren't skilled at hiding their weakness, so be observant. You'll learn to pick out these things more easily the more you spar," Sarish promised, shifting his stance that his right leg was under him, the other slightly in front, which alleviated the slight strain that he felt growing in his lower back.