Dojo A-Go-Go, No? [Open]
Characters: Ikkaku, plus trainees, insulting interlopers, etc.
Content: General conversation and combat training
Setting: Ikkaku's Dojo
Time: Mid-Day
Warnings: PG-13 (violent content, adult language)
Focus. Hmm. Two-hundred twenty-nine. Focus. Keep your focus.
Forward and back, the gentle surface of a spear's graceful body sliding across his palms and between his fingers, Ikkaku stared with eyes cold and chillingly calm as he practiced a quick, hard forward thrust, only to retract the weapon and thrust again. Time and time again, his aim never changed, always piercing the air at the exact same spot, the exact same height, and the exact same strength, bending the air across the deadly tip of the spear's bladed point. He stood there in the center of his dojo, his footing never shifting from his stance, silently counting the number of thrusts, all the while reminding himself to remain within a sharpened state of mind.
C'mon, keep focused. Two-hundred forty-three. Man, I'm thirsty...FOCUS.
Ikkaku's spiritual strength had been rising and falling all day, ever since he began his training. There were times where it was barely noticeable, yet others when it roared, rumbled, and rampaged violently across every floor of the ship. Ikkaku was a focused fighter, but deep down inside, his spiritual energy was a perfect reflection of him: hungry and gripping, like a true predator that sought for nothing but satisfaction.
Forward and back again, again and again, Ikkaku practiced his thrust, wearing down the muscles in his arms in hopes of building them back up again even stronger. He would do it until his limbs ached beyond his ability to keep them upright any longer, then rest, have a refreshing drink of water, then wait until he could move on to the next exercise with the spear.
Content: General conversation and combat training
Setting: Ikkaku's Dojo
Time: Mid-Day
Warnings: PG-13 (violent content, adult language)
Focus. Hmm. Two-hundred twenty-nine. Focus. Keep your focus.
Forward and back, the gentle surface of a spear's graceful body sliding across his palms and between his fingers, Ikkaku stared with eyes cold and chillingly calm as he practiced a quick, hard forward thrust, only to retract the weapon and thrust again. Time and time again, his aim never changed, always piercing the air at the exact same spot, the exact same height, and the exact same strength, bending the air across the deadly tip of the spear's bladed point. He stood there in the center of his dojo, his footing never shifting from his stance, silently counting the number of thrusts, all the while reminding himself to remain within a sharpened state of mind.
C'mon, keep focused. Two-hundred forty-three. Man, I'm thirsty...FOCUS.
Ikkaku's spiritual strength had been rising and falling all day, ever since he began his training. There were times where it was barely noticeable, yet others when it roared, rumbled, and rampaged violently across every floor of the ship. Ikkaku was a focused fighter, but deep down inside, his spiritual energy was a perfect reflection of him: hungry and gripping, like a true predator that sought for nothing but satisfaction.
Forward and back again, again and again, Ikkaku practiced his thrust, wearing down the muscles in his arms in hopes of building them back up again even stronger. He would do it until his limbs ached beyond his ability to keep them upright any longer, then rest, have a refreshing drink of water, then wait until he could move on to the next exercise with the spear.