Each step that Kinjo took up the mountainous terrain of the Spine was dangerous. Avoiding any paths, he instead decided to take a rougher way. Carefully stepping across the jagged rocks of the slope until he finally reached a place he had decided was a good place for training. A place somewhat secluded and full of jagged points that would require him to balance onto of. He scanned the area one last time, nodding to himself before pulling the teal duster he wore from his form and resting it casually on the rock. Followed by his black katana that was tied tight to his waist, resting it on top of the duster. With a sigh, he stepped onto of the nearest elevated pointed rock.
He started carefully, placing both feet as close together on top of the point. While breathing slowly he raised his left foot, his hands carefully held tight to his chest in a folded over one another. The only thing stopping the jagged end of the rock from digging into his heel was the soft soles of his open-toed shoes. He started slowly, moving each hand in soft form of martial arts strikes, before gradually building his speed, each strike with a bit more power behind it. When he finally thought he found his rhythm, he fell. Falling harshly to the rough ground around him.
With a grunt, he forced himself to his feet, ignoring the blood that ran from his small cuts and scrapes. He quickly returned to his former position, repeating the same processes as before but this time keeping his footing. He shifted from the soft martial art stances, to instead the practicing of the hand signs. Some signs were replicated perfectly, others not the greatest and some were just fails. He would continue this until he felt he made considerable improvement.
He did his best to ignore the beads of sweat that dripped from his brow into his eyes, blinking away the burning feeling he dropped from the pillar. He allowed himself a second of rest before bursting into a sprint, jumping from jagged rock to jagged rock, falling on numerous occasions to the rough ground again but forcing himself to his feet.
He would continue it like this, after his run returning to the rock, practicing the soft martial art, moving onto the hand signs, and then to a sprint. By the end of his session, he would reattached his sword and duster, carefully making his way down the rough landscape, wincing from his wounds as he did so. Nothing serious, fortunately, but hundreds of small scrapes and cuts covered his arms and face, his sweat mixing into the blood causing a burning sensation that was nearly impossible to ignore.
“Need to improve,” He whispered to himself. “Can’t slow down.” He took in a breath and took off in a sprint down the jagged downslopes, doing his best to avoid any falls on his way back home.
WC: 497
He started carefully, placing both feet as close together on top of the point. While breathing slowly he raised his left foot, his hands carefully held tight to his chest in a folded over one another. The only thing stopping the jagged end of the rock from digging into his heel was the soft soles of his open-toed shoes. He started slowly, moving each hand in soft form of martial arts strikes, before gradually building his speed, each strike with a bit more power behind it. When he finally thought he found his rhythm, he fell. Falling harshly to the rough ground around him.
With a grunt, he forced himself to his feet, ignoring the blood that ran from his small cuts and scrapes. He quickly returned to his former position, repeating the same processes as before but this time keeping his footing. He shifted from the soft martial art stances, to instead the practicing of the hand signs. Some signs were replicated perfectly, others not the greatest and some were just fails. He would continue this until he felt he made considerable improvement.
He did his best to ignore the beads of sweat that dripped from his brow into his eyes, blinking away the burning feeling he dropped from the pillar. He allowed himself a second of rest before bursting into a sprint, jumping from jagged rock to jagged rock, falling on numerous occasions to the rough ground again but forcing himself to his feet.
He would continue it like this, after his run returning to the rock, practicing the soft martial art, moving onto the hand signs, and then to a sprint. By the end of his session, he would reattached his sword and duster, carefully making his way down the rough landscape, wincing from his wounds as he did so. Nothing serious, fortunately, but hundreds of small scrapes and cuts covered his arms and face, his sweat mixing into the blood causing a burning sensation that was nearly impossible to ignore.
“Need to improve,” He whispered to himself. “Can’t slow down.” He took in a breath and took off in a sprint down the jagged downslopes, doing his best to avoid any falls on his way back home.
End Session
<i></i>WC: 497