R
Ray C
Guest
They had gone past simple jabs and counters long ago; now the pair was scraping any potential advantage together they could see. Saria's leap off the tree was a good example, the girl taking three steps up before pushing off and cartwheeling over Isaac's head. He would have loved to press in on her while she was airborne, but her hands offered no space for his own to get through. The young man had to instead through himself into a back handspring, bringing his feet swinging up powerfully to reach the girl overhead. She caught his lead foot and pushed off of it, taking its momentum for herself to land with some space between the two.
A pair of first-years clapped at the display. Their exploration had brought them to the practice area, only to find the two third-years already sparring. They'd begun with simple steps: thrust, sidestep, counter; block, kick, block; duck, sweep, retreat; and so on. Even as first year students lacking in experience, something about the match had drawn these two in and made them unable to avert their gaze. It was a dance, intricate and beautiful, and the dance partners couldn't have been better matched.
What they hadn't realized yet was what the game was. Isaac couldn't blame them for that; to anyone who wasn't familiar, it would just look like sparring. But this was even more intense than that: this was Death Touch. Isaac had thought it up near the end of their first year, weary of the same sparring matches all the time. The new rule was simple: first one to touch the other person's head or torso won. They'd been at it for twenty minutes now and neither side had scored higher than the elbow.
Saria pressed in again, lunging forward with a strong burst. She cut her momentum and feinted right, then stepped left and lifted her right leg in a diagonal kick. Isaac had seen through her first bluff easily, then had stepped into her when she began moving to his left. Her sudden reversal forced him to the right, diving aside as her leg missed him by centimeters. He pushed his left foot forward as he hit the ground, snagging the ankle of Saria's planted foot. The pull jerked her off balance, but even as she fell her hands came down to catch her, her legs swung over her body, and she landed upright. Isaac kicked himself up to his feet and the pair faced off once again.
More applause came from the onlookers, along with a low "Woooow." Isaac and Saria locked eyes, and an unspoken agreement was settled upon. Both relaxed and straightened up, turning to face the new students.
"Welcome to Horizon. You are Gaia, from the look of you?" Saria asked the pair. They nodded in stunned silence. "I see. Train hard, study harder, and remember that technique is more important than power. Are you here to begin practicing?"
"Don't scare them, Saria. Not everyone is like you and Davin. Welcome to Horizon, you two. I'm Isaac--third year Gaia. Do bear Saria's advice in mind, but you'd be better off meeting your classmates right now than practicing unsupervised. The mess hall is back that way if you haven't eaten yet; sharing a meal is a good way to meet friends."
Even as Isaac pointed the way, a familiar face came down the path: Irrius, their senior by a year and somebody Saria wasn't particularly fond of. She didn't like his attitude: a student should be humble, but he never showed signs of having even a dab of humility. Isaac could mostly agree with that, but he felt that most angels had a superiority complex--Saria included--so he was as cordial as he ever was.
Isaac called out to the angel as the two first-years ran off. "Hail! Did you find a protege in the new batch?"
A pair of first-years clapped at the display. Their exploration had brought them to the practice area, only to find the two third-years already sparring. They'd begun with simple steps: thrust, sidestep, counter; block, kick, block; duck, sweep, retreat; and so on. Even as first year students lacking in experience, something about the match had drawn these two in and made them unable to avert their gaze. It was a dance, intricate and beautiful, and the dance partners couldn't have been better matched.
What they hadn't realized yet was what the game was. Isaac couldn't blame them for that; to anyone who wasn't familiar, it would just look like sparring. But this was even more intense than that: this was Death Touch. Isaac had thought it up near the end of their first year, weary of the same sparring matches all the time. The new rule was simple: first one to touch the other person's head or torso won. They'd been at it for twenty minutes now and neither side had scored higher than the elbow.
Saria pressed in again, lunging forward with a strong burst. She cut her momentum and feinted right, then stepped left and lifted her right leg in a diagonal kick. Isaac had seen through her first bluff easily, then had stepped into her when she began moving to his left. Her sudden reversal forced him to the right, diving aside as her leg missed him by centimeters. He pushed his left foot forward as he hit the ground, snagging the ankle of Saria's planted foot. The pull jerked her off balance, but even as she fell her hands came down to catch her, her legs swung over her body, and she landed upright. Isaac kicked himself up to his feet and the pair faced off once again.
More applause came from the onlookers, along with a low "Woooow." Isaac and Saria locked eyes, and an unspoken agreement was settled upon. Both relaxed and straightened up, turning to face the new students.
"Welcome to Horizon. You are Gaia, from the look of you?" Saria asked the pair. They nodded in stunned silence. "I see. Train hard, study harder, and remember that technique is more important than power. Are you here to begin practicing?"
"Don't scare them, Saria. Not everyone is like you and Davin. Welcome to Horizon, you two. I'm Isaac--third year Gaia. Do bear Saria's advice in mind, but you'd be better off meeting your classmates right now than practicing unsupervised. The mess hall is back that way if you haven't eaten yet; sharing a meal is a good way to meet friends."
Even as Isaac pointed the way, a familiar face came down the path: Irrius, their senior by a year and somebody Saria wasn't particularly fond of. She didn't like his attitude: a student should be humble, but he never showed signs of having even a dab of humility. Isaac could mostly agree with that, but he felt that most angels had a superiority complex--Saria included--so he was as cordial as he ever was.
Isaac called out to the angel as the two first-years ran off. "Hail! Did you find a protege in the new batch?"