Author Topic: The Day Before... [Closed] (Read 248 times)
akimoto
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The Day Before... [Closed]
« Jul 24, 2009 7:20:24 GMT -6 » 		Quote
He moved like water, gliding through movements as he deflected the blows that aimed to strike him, each one executed perfectly but unable to infiltrate the iron defence of the powerful Asian. With a slight twist of his wrist with one hand, he applied a one-handed Ikkyo to the 'attacker' on his left side that sent him to the floor, his body unable to flow with the unnatural contortion of the joint. As he rolled his body out of the throw, the gi-clad man standing where he had attacked a moment ago was already back into motion, moving against a punch coming at his right.

A graceful sweep of his feet brought his right back to change his form, the pleat of his hakama rustling with the stride as his right hand intercepted the crook of the oncoming arm at the elbow, continuing to flow through the motion with consumate ease into a Kokyunage takedown. His contact with his opponents lasted mere seconds, and in the most simple of manners, but none yet had managed to move the Shihan from his poise in the middle of the floor.

Ten students in the class stood in efforts to retain their breath from their exertions.

With a calm, unfazed air and a somewhat distant gaze in his eyes, Kazuki Akimoto stood in the centre of them all, his hands by his sides loose and unclenched, his body relaxed and comfortable, watching and listening for the next to attempt to approach. For close to thirty seconds, nobody moved aside from adjusting their gi where it had ruffled or shirked from their trips to the ground, until an imperceptible glance between two signalled their approach. They came from the same frontal range instead of opposing corners, something that had been attempted only moments ago when one aimed to fell the skillful fighter with his back turned, and now they would attempt to overcome him with a two-fold attack head on.

A worthy notion. Futile, but worthy.

A hooked blow from the left-hand fighter was evaded with a tight backward weave of his head, immediately responded to as Kazuki smoothly pressed the back of his right hand down and across the shoulder, taking away the slightly younger fighters balance and stumbling him even as the elder Asian continued to move seamlessly in a clockwise movement, his left hand catching the oncoming wrist of a straight right from the other.

The tiniest crease of a smile emerged on Kazukis lips as he continued with his twist, pulling the other male forward and off his centre of gravity, causing him to not only lose balance but inevitably fall over his fellow attacker, sending the pair crashing to the floor one after the other in a small heap, their target unscathed and standing a foot or so away with his hands linked in front of him, glancing down with a small nod of approval. This pair had shown good prowess indeed, having not just attempted to attack on their own from favourable angles, but to do so in unison and thus displaying an understanding of forward thinking and logical consideration.

They would go on to become exceptional, he wagered, as he raised his hands with the palms facing out.

"That will do." he said clearly, his voice containing the tracest hint of his original accent but little more after ten years in America, and he gave small bows of courtesy to the others present. This dojo had been one found through chance, an exceptional one at that, the master having trained with the Ueshiba family school in his younger years. As he loosened the fastenings on his gi, he shrugged the garment loose and pulled it free of his body, folding it neatly before tucking it into the holdall he had brought with him, pulling out a white full-sleeved shirt and a pair of dark blue jeans before retiring to a washroom to change.

Emerging a minute or so later in his casual apparel, he tucked the hakama into the holdall as well, hooking the bag onto his shoulder with a twist of his arm and made his way to the exit, pausing only to slip on his shoes and pick the overshirt he'd worn off the hook.

As the door swung open, he sighed contentedly in the afternoon sunshine, a small grin creeping onto his face as he fished his car keys from his pocket, tapping the fob to both unlock the vehicle and start the roof mechanism to fold back as he neared the gorgeous blood red Aston Martin. The car was less than a week old, bought the day he'd arrived in Chula Vista from a dealer in imports fresh off the showroom. When he came alongside it, his fingertips lightly swept across the sheen of the paint before he tossed his bag into the opposite seat.

Slipping into the seat, he popped the glove box open and pulled a pair of slim sunglasses from the otherwise empty compartment, hooking them onto his face as he started the engine with a glorious growl from the DBS's V12, pulling out into the traffic with a pleased expression on his face. He started at the Collective tomorrow, and part of him was eagerly looking forward to seeing how the new generation had begun to grow.

'Soon, we'll see how the last two years has changed things...'

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