[Ficlet] The confidence to strike
Summary: Instincts: blindfolded training with Kunzite and Dark Mercury
Kunzite slipped the blindfold around Mercury's head and tied it firmly in place, testing the thick black cotton with a gruff pull of a single finger. The cloth felt cool and smooth against her face. His hand hovered there for just a moment afterward before he finally withdrew it. Mercury took her stance and pulled her sword back, high and near her head.
She made an alluring picture, that mixture of such obvious strength and vulnerability. Kunzite allowed himself a small, wry smile while she wouldn't see it. They were here for more practical purposes. He took his place, equal and opposite to hers. He gave her no time to get used to her new handicap before striking her a powerful blow to her legs.
Mercury gave a short cry of surprise and pain as she stumbled. With a sharp turn, she faced where she thought her attacker was, but he had already moved, of course. This time, she fell to the ground. Dirt entered her mouth and she had to spit it out.
He expected her to rise, and she did. He attacked again, to equal effect. She stood. For a third time, she met the ground. For a third time, she got up. He left her to do it herself. Finally, he paused. "Your instincts are lacking," he said plainly.
The senshi knew it already. Without being able to see him, she struck too quickly or too late. She held herself back when she wasn't sure, so that she could meet the real attack, and suddenly his sword tapped her roughly, or her legs were taken out again, or he struck her. He told himself it was simply the training; it would be of no use to either of them if he coddled her. She was never sure when to strike, and every nervous, hesitant motion told that to her opponent as her head turned, still half expecting to see.
She reached irritably for the blindfold, but he wouldn't allow it. "Don't," he ordered sharply. Why did she insist on petulance? She hesitated, but left it alone and dropped her hand. Her lips pursed. He went on.
"Why don't you block me?" he asked.
"Because I'm not used to this," Mercury excused herself.
"No," he corrected her, "This is nothing new for you."
That made her think. He was right. She'd fought enemies whose movement she couldn't track before, when her eyes couldn't keep up. As if he knew her thoughts, because he'd led them there, Kunzite continued. "You do not use your instincts in an emergency. You use them in every battle. Rely on where you know I am."
Mercury nodded, understanding finally, and prepared herself. This time, she refused to strain for the faint sounds that might tell her where he was or might just as easily be a rustling animal or a sighing tree branch. She listened for nothing but that inner voice, a voice that murmured like the water, a simple knowing that couldn't be explained, his presence instead of his sounds or moves. Her sword met his.
Mercury blocked Kunzite's blow, and something inside her rejoiced at the simple freedom of opening herself up to something new, something beyond herself. He could have told her long ago, that it wasn't a matter of herself versus others; it was a matter of herself alone. It was a matter of trusting herself, of believing her movements would be the right ones. "You will learn," Kunzite told his senshi above his blade, "This is relying on yourself."
Daylight was already nearly spent by the time they called an end to the training. Kunzite unwrapped the blindfold, entangling enticing blue hair around his gloved fingers for just a moment, a proprietary gesture he concealed behind the simpler act. When the fatigued Mercury looked up at him, his typical dry half-smirk greeted her. "I see you've begun to understand." She gave a small, pleased smirk at the praise, and turned sharply to leave ahead of him.
Kunzite slipped the blindfold around Mercury's head and tied it firmly in place, testing the thick black cotton with a gruff pull of a single finger. The cloth felt cool and smooth against her face. His hand hovered there for just a moment afterward before he finally withdrew it. Mercury took her stance and pulled her sword back, high and near her head.
She made an alluring picture, that mixture of such obvious strength and vulnerability. Kunzite allowed himself a small, wry smile while she wouldn't see it. They were here for more practical purposes. He took his place, equal and opposite to hers. He gave her no time to get used to her new handicap before striking her a powerful blow to her legs.
Mercury gave a short cry of surprise and pain as she stumbled. With a sharp turn, she faced where she thought her attacker was, but he had already moved, of course. This time, she fell to the ground. Dirt entered her mouth and she had to spit it out.
He expected her to rise, and she did. He attacked again, to equal effect. She stood. For a third time, she met the ground. For a third time, she got up. He left her to do it herself. Finally, he paused. "Your instincts are lacking," he said plainly.
The senshi knew it already. Without being able to see him, she struck too quickly or too late. She held herself back when she wasn't sure, so that she could meet the real attack, and suddenly his sword tapped her roughly, or her legs were taken out again, or he struck her. He told himself it was simply the training; it would be of no use to either of them if he coddled her. She was never sure when to strike, and every nervous, hesitant motion told that to her opponent as her head turned, still half expecting to see.
She reached irritably for the blindfold, but he wouldn't allow it. "Don't," he ordered sharply. Why did she insist on petulance? She hesitated, but left it alone and dropped her hand. Her lips pursed. He went on.
"Why don't you block me?" he asked.
"Because I'm not used to this," Mercury excused herself.
"No," he corrected her, "This is nothing new for you."
That made her think. He was right. She'd fought enemies whose movement she couldn't track before, when her eyes couldn't keep up. As if he knew her thoughts, because he'd led them there, Kunzite continued. "You do not use your instincts in an emergency. You use them in every battle. Rely on where you know I am."
Mercury nodded, understanding finally, and prepared herself. This time, she refused to strain for the faint sounds that might tell her where he was or might just as easily be a rustling animal or a sighing tree branch. She listened for nothing but that inner voice, a voice that murmured like the water, a simple knowing that couldn't be explained, his presence instead of his sounds or moves. Her sword met his.
Mercury blocked Kunzite's blow, and something inside her rejoiced at the simple freedom of opening herself up to something new, something beyond herself. He could have told her long ago, that it wasn't a matter of herself versus others; it was a matter of herself alone. It was a matter of trusting herself, of believing her movements would be the right ones. "You will learn," Kunzite told his senshi above his blade, "This is relying on yourself."
Daylight was already nearly spent by the time they called an end to the training. Kunzite unwrapped the blindfold, entangling enticing blue hair around his gloved fingers for just a moment, a proprietary gesture he concealed behind the simpler act. When the fatigued Mercury looked up at him, his typical dry half-smirk greeted her. "I see you've begun to understand." She gave a small, pleased smirk at the praise, and turned sharply to leave ahead of him.