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Sit. Stand. Walk. Breath. Whole.
Topic Started: Feb 9 2018, 08:55 PM (67 Views)
LalSingh
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Hit-Naan-Lee
Seated, each bead represented words, words that structured sentences, sentences that formed prayers. Worlds within words. The God of Lal Singh was as elusive and ominous as herself. An unspoken thing. Another bead, kneading each of them through her fingers. Finger tips to wood surfaces. Tactile feeling triggering memorization. Memory igniting thought, emotion, faith, and spirit. Quiet God, quiet soul. A vulnerable smile, tears streamed. And she stood after setting the beads down to her right.

Lal Singh scooted her feet out, a quick procession until they were apart, even with her shoulders. Stepping one foot back, her arms raised up on autopilot. She didn't need to see them to know they were in a forward guard. One low to block kicks, one high for hand strikes. She didn't need to see to know she was in Kamae.

Supple. Relaxed. Ready. Singh anticipated the utterance a mere fraction of a moment before it was spoken. She knew who watched her knew when she was ready.

When it came, it was whispered.

<?????>
‘Orosu...‘

Tears flew from her lashes as Singh opened her black eyes to the world about her. Dancing candle lights dancing flickering shadows off paneled walls. She was surrounded by obstacles. The only way was through.

Round kick, high aimed, the mannequin's head sailed through the air and bounced off a wall, wiping out a row of paper lantern on the floor. Then the mannequin body crashed sideways and she was able to step out from the grim gaggle gathered about her.

<?????>
‘How do you feel?‘

Singh advanced silently. Stepping into a circle of naked candles. No shadows in their midst.

Outside the circle of light loomed figures.

<?????>
‘How do you feel?‘

A shiver ran through Singh as she stepped into the center, and changed stances. Knees bent inwards towards themselves, she put one foot forward and sunk her weight. Then, she tensed her whole body with a series of breaths as the figures emerged. Kendo garbed. Shinai in hands. Singh's obsidian wells didn't focus on any one of them, but gazed straight ahead.

It would be six. The two before her, the two in her peripherals, and the two coming in from behind that she couldn't see.

Left swung, then right. Low, high. An exhale, tension, Singh tightened her abs and shifted into the blow aimed at her core instinctively. The Shinai snapped in half, folding backwards. Simultaneously, Singh ducked her head into the downward arcing high blow, tightening her neck muscles. Her forehead made much the same of the Shinai as her abs did the other. Singh brought her arms back with a bellow, so far so that they shielded her back from the following two blows from the assailants at her flanks. The Shinai seemed to erupt into a cacophony of sound as they did pieces.

The next two blows came on top of the others, giving Singh no time to anticipate or react. This was purposeful. If she was truly rooted in her stance, an Hourglass stance, these blows would not kneel her.

But they would still hurt.

A lot.

One struck the back of her calf with an explosive shattering sound as the implement deformed itself against her. The other came down just above her knee on the other leg. The practice sword blew apart. And the figures merged back into the shadows. Becoming formless. Nothing. Leaving Singh to heave, body covered in sweat. Heart drumming in her ears.

<?????>
‘How do you feel?‘

She felt like falling over. She wanted to collapse.

Instead she stood up straight as a door opened before her; bright, piercing light, and a gust of wind from outside blew in, extinguishing the candles that surrounded her. Singh walked from the room to the open door that led outside. She found herself in morning light.

-Osaka Japan-
10:55 am


This time, the words came in an even, welcoming tone.

<?????>
‘How do you feel?‘

Lal Singh descended the steps, and stood next to Haruna Urashima, who, held out a towel for her. Singh didn't even regard it.

<Lal Singh>
‘Whole.‘

<Haruna>
‘How does that feel?‘

<Lal Singh>
‘Painful, but pain is in its place. Scary, but fear is held in check. Confident, but not proud...‘

Haruna grinned evilly, holding up a cross armed peace sign as Singh finally took the hand towel from her.

<Haruna>
‘So...you...FEEL IT?‘

Wiping her brow dry, Singh smiled back.

<Haruna>
‘Urashima Strong? Yes, and Jack Rider will feel what that IT is very shortly, Coach...‘

-End

OOC: Thanks for letting me use her, OHM! ;D
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