Exposition Match ((Sock, Open RP))
((I actually had this done on Monday, and it's Friday in some parts of the world :D Anyways, Open RP which means you can RP out with either Mello or Yukimura or with each other. And, as long as you make it clear in your tag that you're talking to one of mine, I'll reply [doesn't need to be in the subject, in the narrative is fine]. Enjoy :D ))
It was too cold for idlers to be comfortable outside, though those who were active could ignore the climate. But, the purpose of this match was not to train, but rather as an exhibition type match for those watching.
There had been protests, which had been settled with a quick spar.
Though the stated reason for the exhibition was that the distraction of a crowd of watchers and the pressure of having to perform in front of them was vital, the real reason Yukimura had for wanting to hold this match was that Kuronue and the Baron had made mention of wishing to see such a match. Though, if one were to ask which mattered more and the samurai were to answer honestly, one would find out it was Kuronue’s influence that convinced him.
The only concession to Mello’s pride that had been made was that Yukimura would not use any ‘demon’ tricks on him. Many of the ‘tricks’ Mello called ‘demonic’ were the result of fighting hanyou rather than any demonic ability on his part. He had yet to subject Mello to anything approaching his full ability.
Which was not to say that Yukimura was taking it easy on Mello. He pushed Mello hard, forcing him to focus only on their lessons rather than the swarm of things that seemed to fill the boy’s mind when they trained. That, truly, seemed the most difficult thing for Mello to learn.
Yukimura would admit, though never to Mello himself, that the boy did have talent, for all he was unfocused. He’d watched the boy practice other forms and found his hand-to-hand combat impressive, though he lacked the same focus. Hand-to-hand, though, was a more flexible and fluid form than sword fighting. Or at least the form of sword fighting that Yukimura was working on beating into Mello’s body and brain.
An exhibition would also show Yukimura how much of his teaching had truly made it into Mello’s consciousness.
Yukimura relaxed against one of the pillars that appeared in the Room of Requirement when it became the dojo for their practice. He watched people filter in from his place within the shadows. He was dressed in a dark-colored Chinese-style fighting uniform, his bared arms crossed over his chest, his entire posture speaking of relaxation.
Mello was across the room, kneeling, his katana sheathed before him. His hands were fisted, resting on his thighs, close to his hips. It was the proper posture for a student, though it was obvious to Yukimura that Mello was not thrilled about taking it. He believed himself to be beyond a student. He’d barely become reconciled to the fact that Yukimura, a mere human, could easily defeat him.
When the crowds seemed well gathered, Yukimura left the shadows to stand in the center of the mat. He waited for the small noises of the people in the crowd to trail off. He then bowed to them. “Welcome, friends.” He stood with his left hand comfortably on the saya at his hip. He surveyed the crowd again, smiling as he did. “Today, we shall present for you a rather old ritual. It is common practice, now more so than in my time, to hold an exhibition when a student is prepared to advance the ranks. It does not mean that all to be learned has been learned, only that a particular mastery has been achieved.”
He stepped to the side a little and glanced at Mello, pleased to see that the boy’s control seemed to improve now. His irritation had subsided beneath the exterior calm, as it should. He then glanced at the crowd again, smiling once more. “An older custom was to throw those who were ready to advance into battle to see which survived. Those who returned were granted their mastery and permitted to teach. As we currently lack a war, we shall have to do with a mockery.”
Yukimura flicked a hand at Mello and, a scowl just hidden, the blond rose, picking up his katana and slipping it into the obi of his gi.
“Then, shall we begin?” Yukimura said, turning fully to face Mello.*
A look of surprise and then cunning flickered through Mello’s eyes as he bowed. The samurai had invited him to attack, not to spar. He weighed that with the earlier promise not to use any ‘tricks’ and seemed to come to an understanding this was more than the samurai let on. He’d been behind Yukimura when he spoke, though, so he hadn’t been able to see the lingering smiles for certain members of the audience. In response, Mello brought his saya up, twisting it 90 degrees from how it had been resting, blade down. His hand hovered over the hilt while his feet slid into a ready stance.
Yukimura shifted the same way, his smile never leaving his lips. They stood, eyes locked, unmoving. It had taken a long time to drill into Mello this time. He had a tendency to want to rush into things, to finish as quickly as possible. Patience was not something that came easily, but having his katana flung from his hands and landing on his ass from attacks he didn’t see coming had gone a long way to teaching Mello to watch his opponent, to observe the small tells that let him know when and where and how he would be attacked.
It was a small motion, a mere inhalation, but it signaled Yukimura’s readiness. The blades were drawn at almost the same instant, Yukimura’s in an overhead attack, Mello’s up, blocking. There was a smile on Yukimura’s lips, a scowl on Mello’s.
Mello’s wrist twisted, turning his block into an attack on Yukimura’s head as he stepped out of the way of the samurai’s blade. His scowl deepened as Yukimura laughed and twisted both blades, deflecting the attack. In one of the sparring matches, Mello would have said something about Yukimura’s mirth, but he wouldn’t, yet, in front of the crowd. The first time he’d tried that trick, the samurai had disarmed him, so he could see improvement and that tempered the laughter somewhat.
Yukimura’s blade came in at an angle, seeking to part Mello’s head from his neck. Mello deflected the blade, directing it over his head, dragging his blade downwards, aiming at Yukimura’s heart. The samurai danced away, coming in behind Mello’s sword, attacking again. It was all Mello could do to twist his blade around to block, his guard still too open. Yukimura twisted his blade, the point evading Mello’s poor guard and the blond was forced to leap back lest the blade penetrate his arm.
Mello managed to close his guard again just before Yukimura was coming at him, blade moving to take an arm off it if connected. Just barely, Mello managed to block the blade, leading them to another locked confrontation. Yukimura reached out with his foot to hook Mello’s ankle, but the blond noticed the shift in his posture and jumped back. He recoiled, though, using the moment of his landing to propel him forward again, his sword coming low, almost dragging the ground.
Yukimura leapt over Mello, landing behind him, turning quickly to attack the boy’s neck again. Mello just managed to get his blade up to block, the flat of it against Yukimura’s blade since he hadn’t quite turned the blade fully around. A twist of Yukimura’s blade disarmed Mello and the boy jumped back, taking a judo defensive crouch, still watching the samurai, still prepared to continue the fight. His sword landed on the opposite end of the mat.
Yukimura relaxed his stance, his blade still pointing at Mello. He opened his mouth to speak, but the blond shifted his weight and was moving across the mat, first to push Yukimura off balance and then to recover his blade. The samurai recovered his balance quickly, though, smacking Mello’s ass with the flat of his blade.
Mello grabbed his blade and swept up at Yukimura’s as he was turning, standing fully again.
Yukimura chuckled. “You would have lost a leg,” he pointed out.
“You’re an ass,” Mello returned, mocking Yukimura’s tone.
The move was almost too quick to follow, but Yukimura attacked, darting forward, catching Mello’s heel with his foot, tripping the boy and forcing him on his back, his blade at his throat. “And you’re dead,” he said, his voice still carrying amusement. He met Mello’s glare for a long moment until the boy’s eyes acknowledged his defeat. He then stepped back. “However, you have improved vastly,” he said. “At four points, you succeeded where you had failed before. I commend you for that,” he said, stepping back and sheathing his sword, drawing it along the top of the saya before sliding it home. “And, your attempt to recover your sword was well done.”
Mello rose, sheathing his sword in the same manner. He bowed, keeping his eyes on Yukimura, and low enough to show the proper amount of respect for a teacher. His jaw muscles worked a moment. “If it would not be an inconvenience,” he said, his tone only carrying a little irritation with it, “may our lessons continue?”
Yukimura crossed his arms, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword as he regarded Mello for a long moment. “I do believe that you will benefit and are quite capable of mastery, given the time to study,” he said, his tone carrying the approval he knew Mello needed to hear. “You have made great progress and, I do believe, in an actual battle, you would have fared better than against me,” he said, laughing. He bowed, teacher to student. “I will continue training you,” he said.
“Thank you,” Mello said, rising from his bow and returning to where he had been kneeling before the match.
Yukimura turned to the crowed. “Ah, thank you all for your time and attendance,” he said, bowing to them. “Please, feel free to enjoy the tea and other refreshments. I have been assured they are free from hexes.” A glint touched his eyes. “Mello made sure of it,” he said, wicked amusement in his voice.
* note: "hajimemashou ka," which is 'shall we begin?' indicates an actual battle. "kumaite" is the word used to indicate a sparring match. Only those who would 'hear' the underlying Japanese would know the difference, but that accounts for Mello's reaction. Wasn't quite sure how to work that into narrative and it is me being geek.
It was too cold for idlers to be comfortable outside, though those who were active could ignore the climate. But, the purpose of this match was not to train, but rather as an exhibition type match for those watching.
There had been protests, which had been settled with a quick spar.
Though the stated reason for the exhibition was that the distraction of a crowd of watchers and the pressure of having to perform in front of them was vital, the real reason Yukimura had for wanting to hold this match was that Kuronue and the Baron had made mention of wishing to see such a match. Though, if one were to ask which mattered more and the samurai were to answer honestly, one would find out it was Kuronue’s influence that convinced him.
The only concession to Mello’s pride that had been made was that Yukimura would not use any ‘demon’ tricks on him. Many of the ‘tricks’ Mello called ‘demonic’ were the result of fighting hanyou rather than any demonic ability on his part. He had yet to subject Mello to anything approaching his full ability.
Which was not to say that Yukimura was taking it easy on Mello. He pushed Mello hard, forcing him to focus only on their lessons rather than the swarm of things that seemed to fill the boy’s mind when they trained. That, truly, seemed the most difficult thing for Mello to learn.
Yukimura would admit, though never to Mello himself, that the boy did have talent, for all he was unfocused. He’d watched the boy practice other forms and found his hand-to-hand combat impressive, though he lacked the same focus. Hand-to-hand, though, was a more flexible and fluid form than sword fighting. Or at least the form of sword fighting that Yukimura was working on beating into Mello’s body and brain.
An exhibition would also show Yukimura how much of his teaching had truly made it into Mello’s consciousness.
Yukimura relaxed against one of the pillars that appeared in the Room of Requirement when it became the dojo for their practice. He watched people filter in from his place within the shadows. He was dressed in a dark-colored Chinese-style fighting uniform, his bared arms crossed over his chest, his entire posture speaking of relaxation.
Mello was across the room, kneeling, his katana sheathed before him. His hands were fisted, resting on his thighs, close to his hips. It was the proper posture for a student, though it was obvious to Yukimura that Mello was not thrilled about taking it. He believed himself to be beyond a student. He’d barely become reconciled to the fact that Yukimura, a mere human, could easily defeat him.
When the crowds seemed well gathered, Yukimura left the shadows to stand in the center of the mat. He waited for the small noises of the people in the crowd to trail off. He then bowed to them. “Welcome, friends.” He stood with his left hand comfortably on the saya at his hip. He surveyed the crowd again, smiling as he did. “Today, we shall present for you a rather old ritual. It is common practice, now more so than in my time, to hold an exhibition when a student is prepared to advance the ranks. It does not mean that all to be learned has been learned, only that a particular mastery has been achieved.”
He stepped to the side a little and glanced at Mello, pleased to see that the boy’s control seemed to improve now. His irritation had subsided beneath the exterior calm, as it should. He then glanced at the crowd again, smiling once more. “An older custom was to throw those who were ready to advance into battle to see which survived. Those who returned were granted their mastery and permitted to teach. As we currently lack a war, we shall have to do with a mockery.”
Yukimura flicked a hand at Mello and, a scowl just hidden, the blond rose, picking up his katana and slipping it into the obi of his gi.
“Then, shall we begin?” Yukimura said, turning fully to face Mello.*
A look of surprise and then cunning flickered through Mello’s eyes as he bowed. The samurai had invited him to attack, not to spar. He weighed that with the earlier promise not to use any ‘tricks’ and seemed to come to an understanding this was more than the samurai let on. He’d been behind Yukimura when he spoke, though, so he hadn’t been able to see the lingering smiles for certain members of the audience. In response, Mello brought his saya up, twisting it 90 degrees from how it had been resting, blade down. His hand hovered over the hilt while his feet slid into a ready stance.
Yukimura shifted the same way, his smile never leaving his lips. They stood, eyes locked, unmoving. It had taken a long time to drill into Mello this time. He had a tendency to want to rush into things, to finish as quickly as possible. Patience was not something that came easily, but having his katana flung from his hands and landing on his ass from attacks he didn’t see coming had gone a long way to teaching Mello to watch his opponent, to observe the small tells that let him know when and where and how he would be attacked.
It was a small motion, a mere inhalation, but it signaled Yukimura’s readiness. The blades were drawn at almost the same instant, Yukimura’s in an overhead attack, Mello’s up, blocking. There was a smile on Yukimura’s lips, a scowl on Mello’s.
Mello’s wrist twisted, turning his block into an attack on Yukimura’s head as he stepped out of the way of the samurai’s blade. His scowl deepened as Yukimura laughed and twisted both blades, deflecting the attack. In one of the sparring matches, Mello would have said something about Yukimura’s mirth, but he wouldn’t, yet, in front of the crowd. The first time he’d tried that trick, the samurai had disarmed him, so he could see improvement and that tempered the laughter somewhat.
Yukimura’s blade came in at an angle, seeking to part Mello’s head from his neck. Mello deflected the blade, directing it over his head, dragging his blade downwards, aiming at Yukimura’s heart. The samurai danced away, coming in behind Mello’s sword, attacking again. It was all Mello could do to twist his blade around to block, his guard still too open. Yukimura twisted his blade, the point evading Mello’s poor guard and the blond was forced to leap back lest the blade penetrate his arm.
Mello managed to close his guard again just before Yukimura was coming at him, blade moving to take an arm off it if connected. Just barely, Mello managed to block the blade, leading them to another locked confrontation. Yukimura reached out with his foot to hook Mello’s ankle, but the blond noticed the shift in his posture and jumped back. He recoiled, though, using the moment of his landing to propel him forward again, his sword coming low, almost dragging the ground.
Yukimura leapt over Mello, landing behind him, turning quickly to attack the boy’s neck again. Mello just managed to get his blade up to block, the flat of it against Yukimura’s blade since he hadn’t quite turned the blade fully around. A twist of Yukimura’s blade disarmed Mello and the boy jumped back, taking a judo defensive crouch, still watching the samurai, still prepared to continue the fight. His sword landed on the opposite end of the mat.
Yukimura relaxed his stance, his blade still pointing at Mello. He opened his mouth to speak, but the blond shifted his weight and was moving across the mat, first to push Yukimura off balance and then to recover his blade. The samurai recovered his balance quickly, though, smacking Mello’s ass with the flat of his blade.
Mello grabbed his blade and swept up at Yukimura’s as he was turning, standing fully again.
Yukimura chuckled. “You would have lost a leg,” he pointed out.
“You’re an ass,” Mello returned, mocking Yukimura’s tone.
The move was almost too quick to follow, but Yukimura attacked, darting forward, catching Mello’s heel with his foot, tripping the boy and forcing him on his back, his blade at his throat. “And you’re dead,” he said, his voice still carrying amusement. He met Mello’s glare for a long moment until the boy’s eyes acknowledged his defeat. He then stepped back. “However, you have improved vastly,” he said. “At four points, you succeeded where you had failed before. I commend you for that,” he said, stepping back and sheathing his sword, drawing it along the top of the saya before sliding it home. “And, your attempt to recover your sword was well done.”
Mello rose, sheathing his sword in the same manner. He bowed, keeping his eyes on Yukimura, and low enough to show the proper amount of respect for a teacher. His jaw muscles worked a moment. “If it would not be an inconvenience,” he said, his tone only carrying a little irritation with it, “may our lessons continue?”
Yukimura crossed his arms, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword as he regarded Mello for a long moment. “I do believe that you will benefit and are quite capable of mastery, given the time to study,” he said, his tone carrying the approval he knew Mello needed to hear. “You have made great progress and, I do believe, in an actual battle, you would have fared better than against me,” he said, laughing. He bowed, teacher to student. “I will continue training you,” he said.
“Thank you,” Mello said, rising from his bow and returning to where he had been kneeling before the match.
Yukimura turned to the crowed. “Ah, thank you all for your time and attendance,” he said, bowing to them. “Please, feel free to enjoy the tea and other refreshments. I have been assured they are free from hexes.” A glint touched his eyes. “Mello made sure of it,” he said, wicked amusement in his voice.
* note: "hajimemashou ka," which is 'shall we begin?' indicates an actual battle. "kumaite" is the word used to indicate a sparring match. Only those who would 'hear' the underlying Japanese would know the difference, but that accounts for Mello's reaction. Wasn't quite sure how to work that into narrative and it is me being geek.