09-17-2017, 02:48 PM
"You!" Ratione barked across the empty space, all but one of the students jumping in place. The one girl who casually turned to the source of the voice appeared to be a foriegner, likely more used to teachers being loud than the Japanese students.
"Where's your protective gear?" The other junior-high kids all had fencing masks, robes, and padded gloves. This one was wearing... something quite ridiculous, in the Novan's eyes.
"Didn't wanna wear it." The foriegn student replied with surprisingly fluent Japanese.
"Don't care. Leave and put it on, then you're allowed back in." As he said this, projecting his voice across the dojo, Ratione strode up to the little girl and towered over her. The Furtumin held her eyes with his own, "Or do I have to repeat myself?"
The girl rolled her eyes, scoffing as she walked off into the locker rooms. Ten minutes later, ten minutes of awkward silence as Ratione stood over the others, she returned in full and proper gear.
Ratione's eyes narrowed, and he beckoned the girl to the center of the dojo. "Okay, kid." The Novan let down his own weapon, tossing it to the side. The heap of metal made a dull, but loud, thud on the wood. "Come at me."
The girl cocked her head to the side, holding her hands out in an "are you serious" gesture. When the teacher made no response, she shook her head before sprinting forward. The student kept their wooden katana at their side, in a low tail guard.
Ratione waited for her to make an ascending cut, her right to left, before swinging back his own right leg and leaning backwards at a shallow angle. The weapon whistled as it cut through the air, sending a small gust through his hair. The instructor could see the student's eyes widen behind the face mask, then wince as his open palm shoved into her stomach and sent her off balance, reeling and taking a few steps to steady.
The two of them paused, the girl holding her training weapon lazily to the side, the Furtumin grinning. "You threw your body forward too hard, ahead of your weapon. Not only that, but you wound up, made yourself obvious." The old man extended his hand, wagging his fingers, "Try again."
"Where's your protective gear?" The other junior-high kids all had fencing masks, robes, and padded gloves. This one was wearing... something quite ridiculous, in the Novan's eyes.
"Didn't wanna wear it." The foriegn student replied with surprisingly fluent Japanese.
"Don't care. Leave and put it on, then you're allowed back in." As he said this, projecting his voice across the dojo, Ratione strode up to the little girl and towered over her. The Furtumin held her eyes with his own, "Or do I have to repeat myself?"
The girl rolled her eyes, scoffing as she walked off into the locker rooms. Ten minutes later, ten minutes of awkward silence as Ratione stood over the others, she returned in full and proper gear.
Ratione's eyes narrowed, and he beckoned the girl to the center of the dojo. "Okay, kid." The Novan let down his own weapon, tossing it to the side. The heap of metal made a dull, but loud, thud on the wood. "Come at me."
The girl cocked her head to the side, holding her hands out in an "are you serious" gesture. When the teacher made no response, she shook her head before sprinting forward. The student kept their wooden katana at their side, in a low tail guard.
Ratione waited for her to make an ascending cut, her right to left, before swinging back his own right leg and leaning backwards at a shallow angle. The weapon whistled as it cut through the air, sending a small gust through his hair. The instructor could see the student's eyes widen behind the face mask, then wince as his open palm shoved into her stomach and sent her off balance, reeling and taking a few steps to steady.
The two of them paused, the girl holding her training weapon lazily to the side, the Furtumin grinning. "You threw your body forward too hard, ahead of your weapon. Not only that, but you wound up, made yourself obvious." The old man extended his hand, wagging his fingers, "Try again."
"Our fear is our weapon."