Date: ???
Place: Training Field
Time: Late Morning
"Uhh, sure," Gotou said in response to Prae-what's-it as they moved over to their own spot of the training field. He fidgeted with the PTC on his wrist, this being the only way he knew how to materialize his weapon from this morning's finagling. To start their mock melee, Gotou rushed Praelin with a straight jab, followed by an uppercut which left him open from too many angles.
Parelin sighed as the boy rushed towards him. He quickly dropped his own sword and and stepped to the side, bringing his arm up defensively. "
Stop right there! Your armour you fool, you forgot to generate it. Do you want to get injured?" Not a good start at all. Perhaps the boy was still drunk?
"Ah, um, whoops?" Gotou gave a weak chuckle at this and a short sigh. "Red," with this simple word, the protective gear materialized on his body. Awestruck despite the amazing happenings that have gone on around him in the past day, and showing it on his face. "Again, can I say that I have no training with this?" He threw up his hands, aggravated. "Brought here against my will and competing in a tournament I know nothing about…" Gotou's voice was a whisper as he said this last bit. Another sigh, before he began speaking again. "Maybe we could switch roles, yes? You on offense and myself on defense? Maybe I can at least learn to defend myself before learning to hurt, yes?"
Praelin was in the process of picking up his sword when Gotou began to whisper. It wasn't entirely audible to the man, but he caught enough to get the gist of what was said. Standing back up he regarded the forlorn looking boy before him. He'd forgotten his armour, attacked in a recklessly open way, and didn't want to be here. Frowning he nodded at Gotou's request and this time he launched an attack at the boy, a thrust taking advantage of his reach before following up with a quick slash across chest height. "
Who brought you here?" he asked as he attacked, worried.
The Japanese boy ducked on instinct alone, attempting to launch his fist at Praelin's gut while he was within his range. It was sloppy, and he managed to miss and take a tumble in the arena's dust before he was able to get back on his feet. Wiping the little bit of dirt that had accumulated on the side of his face, he spoke. "A man by the name of Fushinsetsu, it means 'unkind' in my native language. He brought me, and at least one of my classmates here, but he is on another team." Gotou raised his fists to protect his face. "He used some kind of sickle, I believe it is called, and killed three of my classmates before somehow bringing us here." He scoffed, realizing how much of broken record he must be becoming. "I am ready," he said in announcement.
It was the same story Eto had heard last night when he had been drunk. This was a problem. For now though, all he could do was try to train the boy in preparation. Praelin advanced again, coming in with the intention of another simple slash at the boy's head. Training would have to start from the very start. But as he made the attack the crowd suddenly turned on and the man's head exploded in pain. The attack became much sloppier and Praelin's guard was left open by the pain.
Gotou kept a wary eye on Praelin as he made his attack, trying to predict, at the very least, his next move. The blade was poised lower than before, so could that mean… The thought wasn't complete though, as his eyes flickered to their surroundings as the stadium's crowd began to cheer. The distraction was only that for less than a second to the boy, and was then able to take advantage of the other man's vulnerability. He rushed in with an attack of his own, a straight rush like before, but in reality, a faint. Just as he was about to punch the man dead-on, he sidestepped to the right and gave a sock right to the back of the man's head.
Has Praelin's mind been clear he would have been able to counter the blow easily. However thanks to the crowd Gotou had the time to execute his move and the teacher took the blow to his head. "
Ah!" his voice cried out as he tumbled forward to sprawl in the dirt, armour disappearing. After a few seconds of lying there he groaned and pushed himself back to his feet. "
Light purple." he muttered, and his armour reappeared. "
Low blow man." he said, "
But Eto would be proud. It's all about distractions man. Alright, again." Praelin pushed him a little harder this time, with a thrust at his chest that seemed to overreach, but allow him to bring the sword down in a quick slash if Gotou went for a body strike.
The boy himself was more than surprised to see his maneuver strike true. He resisted the urge to jump for joy, knowing he should take this practice seriously, but couldn't put off a shit-eating grin at the very least. "Well, it is what they say, all is fair in war and peace." Gotou kept his guard up as Praelin went at him again. He took advantage of the opening Praelin had intentionally left in his guard, and was met with a downward slash to the shoulder, which sent him face first into the ground. "That was intentional," Gotou groaned, "was it not?" He clenched the dirt as he got up. "Red," he said waiting for the armor to materialize once again, getting into a defensive stance once more.
Gotou's armour decomposed out of existence under the hit to his shoulder leaving him exposed once again. "
It was." the other man replied, a cheerful smile back on his face. He tapped his forehead with the back of his blade as he waited for Gotou to generate a new set of armour, "
Distractions. They come in all forms. Like noise." In perfect timing the crowd chose this moment to switch back on and send Praelin's head into a world of pain. After a few deep breaths he was ready to continue, "
Like noise. Or in the way you attack. Or in what you see. You'll have to spot them, ignore them, and use them under Eto. For example." Praelin charged the boy again, however shortly before he struck his leg rose as if to kick Gotou rather than strike with the sword. However what he had actually done was dig the tip of his thong into the loose sand, which then flung upwards into Gotou's face. The sword came in low, aiming to strike Gotou's stomach which would be left unprotected if he instinctively protected his face.
Perhaps in tune with his trainer's way of thinking, Gotou ducked back from the flung earth and threw the sand which he had balled in his own hand from his previous mistake at Praelin, and instead of counter attack, he stood in place, arms crossed, to make a point to the man on his lesson. "I guess I am a quick learner, seeing as how I had a simile tactic in mind... Let us continue." The same grin from before was back.
Gardania Inventory
Name : Gotou Mason
Rank : C
Funds : 5000 credits
Slot 1: Fist l
Slot 2: Locked
Slot 3: Locked
Slot 4: Locked
Slot 5: Locked
Apparel
-School Tracksuit
-White ankle socks
-White tennis shoes
