"Hi-yah!"

"Shit! Calm down!"

"WAAAAAA!"

As this last yell was belted out, Linedwell felt one of the chops doled out from the instructor finally land solidly against his shoulder. Even though Linedwell hadn't been struck in the stomach, he felt all the air escape from his lungs as he collapsed to his knees. He had narrowly been able to stop himself from falling face first into the wood floor of the dojo, but the pain of the hit he just suffered still pulsed. He could feel that his right arm would begin to give out soon, so he pushed himself back a bit - allowing himself to sit up on the floor. With his left hand now raised and resting on his injured right shoulder, he began to think back to how exactly he ended up in this position. Even though he wasn't a martial artist, for some reason Linedwell felt the need to seek out an instructor on this island and learn what he could. He joined the Navy to learn all he could about combat, after all, so it made sense to seek out an instructor that could at least teach him something about the art-form. However, what he hadn't expected was that his instructor would push him so far in only the first lesson.

Everything started off with Linedwell entering the dojo and introducing himself. The instructor known as Mr. Miyagi didn't seem the least bit impressed with the would-be martial artist, but he asked Linedwell to perform what he "thought" martial arts was about. Linedwell wasn't exactly sure what this meant, but soon Mr. Miyagi explained that he wanted to see what Linedwell assumed martial arts incorporated and act out any techniques that he felt existed or thought were actually real techniques. Even though Linedwell was confused about the reasons behind this, he did what was instructed of him. After about three minutes of random flurries of punches, kicks, drop kicks, back flips, front flips, 100-hit combos, and attempting ancient techniques that he'd just made up the instructor had finally had enough.

With no warning, Mr. Miyagi dashed forward and began to strike out at Linedwell. Linedwell attempted to dodge the blows as best as he could, but eventually he ended up in the position of having his right shoulder chopped with the force of what felt like steel.

"It's as I thought. Your mind is polluted by what you "think" Karate is. Nothing I say will ever clear your mind of that foolishness, thus, I have to beat it out of you if you're to have any hope of learning anything worthwhile.

"Wha-?!"

Before Linedwell could even finish asking his question, Mr. Miyagi was already barreling forward. There was no time whatsoever for Linedwell to react, and he soon felt the same pressure impact his chest that he'd earlier felt slam into his shoulder. The force of the impact caused the young prospect to be sent flying backwards, tumbling across the bamboo floor and slamming into the far wall.

"You seemed stronger than that when you first walked into my dojo...I thought you'd at least attempt to defend yourself. There's not really much to defend yourself against me, but I just assumed you'd at least try."

If Linedwell weren't reeling in pain during these words, he would have been able to afford to be upset - but right now the only thing he could think about was that it was beginning to get a bit harder to breathe. What the hell was wrong with this guy? How could he be this strong?

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Blue skies and a glaring sun shone cheerily in the sky above young Marine Lieutenant, Hoshikita Cross who sat in a wooden rowboat in the South Blue as the waves lapped at the planks of his hull and sea stained air rustled through his goatee. His long legs were stretched out over the seats rather than placed in front of him like a person of normal proportions would likely sit, and he continued to stroke his oars with a calm and firm hand that propelled him steadily towards his destination. As he continued to push onward through the calm waters of the Blue Hoshikita turned his head backwards to see if he could catch a glimpse of his destination. It just so happened that he'd gotten close enough to just make out the outline of the T shaped island on the horizon, and the long legged man redoubled his efforts in rowing to try and reach the shore as quickly as possible.

The T shaped island off in the distance was known as Karate Island, and it was apparently home to primarily martial artists as well as a large minority of farmers. It was hailed in the South Blue as a haven for the martial arts and apparently men traveled from all four blues to receive training from the kung fu masters who had taken up residence there. However, he had learned from his commanding officer, Captain Maria, that the Marines had a rather tumultuous history with Karate Island. The Marines wished to secure a base on the island, due to its position as the closest island to the grand line in the South Blue, however the locals were vehemently opposed to such a plan and had even gone to arms in attempts to stop the plans. Apparently, the marines had given up on martial means to secure the island in an attempt to maintain civility, but they were still eager to get their hands on such an important strategic foothold.

So, with that in mind, Hoshikita had set out on his two days of leave without any of his Marine gear and in completely civilian clothes. He wore a pale blue Hawaiian shirt that was left unbuttoned as well as a pair of beige khakis and his trademark wooden sandals. The outfit was very fitting to the weather and Hoshikita relished the warm rays soaking into his skin as he drew closer and closer to the island. It wasn't long before he arrived at a beach of white sand that went on for several meters before transitioning to a steep cliffside that Hoshikita assumed outlined the "T" of the Island. The young Marine Lieutenant was rather dismayed to see he would be faced with yet more physical challenge after rowing for such a long period of time. The distance between Base Seventeen and here had been nothing to sneeze at and Hoshikita could see why the Marines wouldn't want to have to sail that far in order to reach this point in the ocean. Still, that was none of his concern now as his only goal during his time on leave had been to hone himself in the basics of martial arts. Rokushiki was something he could only learn from the Marines, but honing his own style and reestablishing his foundations were things he could only achieve himself. He couldn't very well return to the East Blue to train with his father, so he would have to "settle" for studying under the instruction of one of the masters on Karate Island.

Wanting to get started as soon as possible so that he might use the two days he'd been given to it's utmost, Hoshikita quickly set to scaling the cliff side. It was as simple as walking on air quite literally as the young Lieutenant was able to reach the plateau above him with a quickly executed Geppou. Even outside of battle the Rokushiki techniques had incredibly varied uses, and Hoshikita was beginning to learn how to use them effectively. So, with the first obstacle out of his way he set out to finding some sort of karate master that might be able to grace him with some of his knowledge. It seemed Hoshikita had landed on the east corner of the island and there was a large village only a few hundred meters off in the distance that he was able to reach without much difficulty, and after inquiring there for a bit the young Marine was able to gather who the greatest master in the area was that took foreigners as students. His name was apparently Mr. Miyagi, which for some reason sounded strangely familiar to Hoshikita.

It wasn't hard to find Mr. Miyagi's dojo as it was one of the largest buildings in the village and the entrance was rather hard to miss. A man with a shaved head at the entrance informed Hoshikita that the master was currently in the middle of a session, but that it was likely he wouldn't mind adding another student to the lesson. Hoshikita thanked the man for the information and headed off towards where he'd been directed where he found a young man being pummeled by an elderly martial artist who the young marine could only assume was Mr. Miyagi. The young marine didn't want to interrupt without first being acknowledged so he attempted to quietly edge around the outskirts of the outer portion of the dojo. As he grew closer, he could hear Mr. Miyagi berating the black haired man for not being as strong as he seemed. Hoshikita wondered just how harsh this karate master was, and whether he'd made the right decision in spending his precious leave to come here, but he stood tall as he waited for some acknowledgement from either participant.

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WC: 979 Words

It slowly started to become obvious to Linedwell that admiring Mr. Miyagi's strength wasn't exactly going to stop him from attacking. There seemed to be more to this random beat down than attempting to "knock out" whatever assumptions Linedwell had about the art of Karate. The fact that Mr. Miyagi even mentioned the fact that he assumed that he'd attempt to defend himself proved this. Was Mr. Miyagi using this as an opportunity to see what he was capable of? Usually, Linedwell wouldn't need a reason to fight someone, but this was the first time that he was so confused about a situation that defending himself didn't even come to mind.

Getting the rest of his coughs out and finally catching his breath, Linedwell began to push himself up onto his feet. He wobbled for a bit, but soon enough he was able to stand firm. He'd never been thrown around like this before, but it wasn't exactly something he planed on getting used to. If Mr. Miyagi wanted to see what he was capable of then he'd make sure to show him. With a desire to prove himself now setting his soul on fire, Linedwell dashed towards Mr. Miyagi at full speed.

"AHHHHH!!!!"

The amused smirk on Mr. Miyagi's lips was all too obvious, but Linedwell made sure not to let it get to him. Linedwell sometimes allowed his temper to get the best of him, causing him to think rashly and act in ways that were detrimental to his goals. If he were to feed into any sort of anger right now, Mr. Miyagi would surely see through anything he attempted and hand him yet another ass whooping.

Once within range of the instructor, Linedwell prepared himself to throw a quick right punch. When the punch reached the halfway mark he quickly pulled it back and threw a fast left jab aimed for his chest. He had hoped that the quick feint would be enough to catch Mr. Miyagi off guard and at least allow him to deal a bit of damage. Instead, Mr. Miyagi simply stepped backwards a bit...and that simple back step was enough for him to completely dodge Linedwell's attempt. Even though he could have been discouraged by this fact, Linedwell simply continued to push on. Left punch, right punch, left elbow, right knee, right kick, headbutt...so many different types of attacks and yet nothing would land. He'd thrown flurries of attacks for so long, and Mr. Miyagi wasn't even bothering to counter attack. It seemed that what Linedwell had been assuming had been the case the entire time. This was a test to see what he was capable of, but Linedwell began to fear he wasn't exactly impressing the old man.

All of a sudden, Linedwell realized that Mr. Miyagi's seemed to be distracted for a brief second. Not wanting to lose a chance to take advantage of this, Linedwell pressed forward and threw yet another punch, and this time the punch managed to actually land. The blow impacted the old man's sternum, yet, it didn't harbor the reaction that Linedwell hoped it would. Instead of the old man crumpling to the ground in pain and professing how much of a Karate master Linedwell was, the old man decided to react by hitting Linedwell with an immense punch. The blow slammed into Linedwell's stomach, causing him to lurch forward in pain. Even though this attack was enough to stop Linedwell completely in his tracks, it seemed Mr. Miyagi wasn't finished just yet. While Linedwell was still in position, Mr. Miyagi lowered his stance a bit and attacked with an upward open palm, slamming his open palm against the bottom of Linedwell's chin. The force was enough to cause Linedwell to be sent upwards to the point that he was now standing on the tip of his toes. Mr. Miyagi then followed up this assault with a straight right opened palm strike. Mr. Miyagi seemed to have taken Linedwell's strike a bit personal, as this open palm strike that he had now struck Linedwell with was placed in the same area that Linedwell had just struck him in. The only difference between these strikes were that Linedwell's strike had done little to no damage...but Mr. Miyagi's strike had been strong enough to send him flying across the dojo yet again.

While hurtling through the air, Linedwell's head had just managed to cause him to look a bit to his left. It was then that Linedwell realized why Mr. Miyagi had been distracted. Another person had entered the dojo; and this person had rather long legs. While Linedwell rolled and tumbled across the floor once again, Mr. Miyagi directed his attention to the new arrival.

"Linedwell...when you're finished playing on the floor go do some training on the equipment over there."

After speaking, Mr. Miyagi pointed towards another section of the dojo that sported a multitude of workout equipment. Mr. Miyagi then directed his attention back to the new arrival.

"So...do you think you'd fair better than that kid over there?"

Though Linedwell told himself he needed to control his temper, he couldn't help letting that comment get under his skin. After sucking his teeth in annoyance, Linedwell wobbled his way back onto his feet before making his way towards the gym equipment.


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As Hoshikita watched the two combatants Mr. Miyagi continued to show why he was hailed as a Karate Master, and while the young marine taking him on was no slouch it seemed that he just didn't have the martial arts skill to take on his opponent. The old man didn't seem to be going easy on his student at all either, and Hoshikita winced as he saw the younger man slammed across the dojo with a powerful palm strike. He could almost feel the impact himself as the sound from the strike resonated across the dojo several moments after the initial hit, and Hoshikita once again wondered if perhaps he had chosen the wrong master to study under. The young lieutenant wasn't in much of a position to decline though, as after dismissively telling the other man, apparently known as Linedwell, to go off and train with some equipment; the old bearded man looked over to him and asked if he thought that he could do better.

Being put on the spot so suddenly, Hoshikita looked around for a moment as if the old man could possibly have been referring to someone else. After a second, he regained his wits and looked back towards the old man. He had to mentally restrain himself from asking "Who me?" before answering, and he took a deep breath and shook his head slightly to calm himself. "I can't say for sure, but I won't know unless I try, right?" Hoshikita asked confidently, bending one leg and stretching out the other as he prepared to test his mettle against the kung fu master. He then switched to the other leg and proceeded to stretch it as well. "Gotta stretch first though, of course. Don't wanna pull a leg muscle." The young lieutenant joked nervously once he saw that Mr. Miyagi was becoming impatient. Hoshikita had thought the joke was rather funny, but the elderly martial artist had apparently not seen the humor in it. So, not wanting to keep the man waiting anymore, Hoshikita hopped up to his feet and dashed off to meet Mr. Miyagi in the center of the dojo.

As he walked up about five feet from Mr. Miyagi, Hoshikita performed a quick bow and got into his fighting stance. "Alright let's do this, I'm rea-" He started to say, but before he could finish he was hit with a powerful palm strike that made painful contact with his right cheek and cut him off immediately. Somehow, the old man had closed the distance without Hoshikita noticing and he had leaped into the air to deliver the attack to a target some five feet above his own eye level. The young marine's head had been sent spinning and Hoshikita staggered backwards for just a second before his body was sent rigid by a sudden impact just under ribs. He looked down to see Mr. Miyagi on the ground now, his fist pointed upwards and lodged under the young marine's rib cage. Hoshikita gasped for air as he felt his lungs emptied by the force of the impact, and he tried desperately to get a grasp of the situation before he was pummeled even more thoroughly.

He was unsuccessful in this endeavor, and received another combo of three punches before he was pushed back enough that he had time to regain his breath before Mr. Miyagi was able to follow up his attack. A moment was all he needed, because as soon as Hoshikita had regained his breath he shot off to another part of the room by kicking at the ground and using the momentum to speed himself along and away from the crazy old kung fu freak. He came to a stop about eight meters away from where he'd been before, and he turned around to see the old man rushing towards him at incredible speeds. Hoshikita wasn't about to let him get any cheap tricks off this time, and he started charging at the old man himself. Mr. Miyagi seemed to slow his pace a bit after seeing this, but Hoshikita continued on at full speed. The young marine came to a stop before raising one leg and attempting to clothesline the old man with a sweeping kick. It was to no avail however, as the old man ducked beneath Hoshikita's leg and swooped around to his backside. Before the young marine could turn to face the kung fu master, he felt a crippling pain in his back and he was forced to his knees due to the strain. The old man seemed to halt for a moment, and though he couldn't see it, Hoshikita knew for a fact that the old man was stroking his beard.

Feeling that this was his only chance to surprise the old man, Hoshikita did his best to endure the pain he was feeling, and strained to lurch his body forward so that his forehead was nearly touching the ground. He then forced  his left leg backward behind him with all the force he could muster in an attempt to strike the old man, and he felt impact on his sandal as he did so. However, it didn't feel like the satisfying impact of a clean hit, and more like he was being restricted or held back. The reason for that was made apparent very quickly however, as his ankle was twisted to an uncomfortable angle and his leg was brought up over his head in an overly painful stretch. "Seems you didn't fare much better after all." He asked somewhat mockingly, holding Hoshikita's ankle in his powerful grip. The old man didn't release the young marine just yet, and he held the foot tightly as he squatted down in front of the toppled Hoshikita. "I guess not. At least I tried though, right?" Hoshikita asked smiling, his teeth clenched from the pain of being contorted so forcefully. "I'll be the one to determine the worth of your efforts." Mr. Miyagi said strictly, releasing Hoshikita from his grasp and standing up. "Get over there and work the equipment with Linedwell over there. It's time for my tea." The old man said before retreating into the dojo. Hoshikita followed the instructions and started to walk over to where the other student had been sent. Anything sounded appealing when compared to another sparring match with Mr. Miyagi after all.

WC: +1064=2043

Techniques Used:

The walk over to the gym equipment felt like one of the longest treks he'd ever endured. Even though the walk only consisted of about a few feet, the damage he'd experienced only moments before during his spar with Mr. Miyagi. Even though the strikes were mostly open palm strikes they were able to deal such substantial damage. The force behind his strikes were of a level that Linedwell had never dealt with before, not even during his experiences he'd been a part of when facing the Clarets he'd vowed to deal with. Being beaten and thrown around in such a way wasn't exactly how he envisioned his day going, but at least this spar had opened his eyes. Though this was only one man, it allowed him to see the broad gap between himself and what things must be like in places like the Grand Line, as well as the New World. He had a long way to go... a very long way to go. He wasn't exactly sure how he'd be able to bridge the gap between himself and the caliber of fighter such as Mr. Miyagi, but at least he had a goal. With something in sight it would be easier for him to push himself to reach that level, and right now under the tutelage of someone like Mr. Miyagi Linedwell felt he was finally making a crucial first step.

Soon enough, Linedwell had managed to make it further into the dojo and to the gym equipment. The amount of equipment here was almost overwhelming; almost to the point that he wasn't exactly sure where to start. To his left there was a machine that appeared to be used for running. Linedwell wasn't exactly sure if he was in shape enough to run right now, especially given the fact that he was currently still clutching his chest. The pain of the open palmed attack he had endured was still currently throbbing, but if he was going to advance he'd need to learn to deal with the pain.

With his mind now on pushing himself to his limit; Linedwell made his way up onto the machine. There were multiple dials on the machine, and Linedwell wasn't sure which of these dials actually started the machine up. It took a few minutes of trial, error, and almost being thrown off of the machine before he finally found a way to start it up without potentially killing himself in a gym accident. With the conveyor belt finally moving, Linedwell began his workout first with a brisk walk as he wanted to make sure he'd actually be able to handle running. As he started on his walk he could actually hear the spar ensuing behind him. For some reason, Linedwell simply assumed that the newcomer would be able to do a lot better against Mr. Miyagi than he had. The guy had extremely long legs, and gave off a vibe that seemed to indicate that he was some sort of martial artist. Linedwell's forte was actually in the use of weaponry - yet, he hoped that by coming here he'd at least be able to learn a few things about hand to hand combat that would help him out if he were ever in a pinch. This long leg guy, however, seemed to know his way around a close quarters fight. When he began to hear more of the sounds that were emanating from the battle he started to get a clear picture of the situation playing out behind him. Even though the man appeared to be strong, Mr. Miyagi seemed to be proving he was far stronger.

The spar seemed to go on for far longer than Linedwell had been able to endure against Mr. Miyagi, and by this point Linedwell had began to finally up his workout from a brisk walk into a jog. His chest was still pounding, but the longer than Linedwell ran the less intense the pain became. He could feel himself getting used to the pain, and as such he knew that his endurance would slowly begin to rise. Soon he'd be battling against far stronger opponents, and one thing that he couldn't let hold him back was the fear of pain. He needed to endure everything that he could and push himself to the limit.

Out of the corner of his eye, Linedwell managed to catch a glimpse of the male from earlier. The spar had finally reached its conclusion and it seemed Mr. Miyagi had instructed the new student to train in this area as well. Linedwell could only assume the spar had ended the same way his own spar had ended earlier. There was a thought to keep quiet and simply focus on his training, but then again that could simply make things more awkward than simply acknowledging the male's presence. With a quiet sigh, Linedwell decided that a bit of socialization couldn't be too bad.

"So...he's strong, huh?"

The answer to this question seemed obvious, and Linedwell mentally kicked himself for even saying anything now. At this point Linedwell simply hoped the male would reply with "yep", and they could both keep going on with their day in silence.

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Hoshikita could still feel his cheek sting and his body ache as he tried to walk off the soreness that was associated with the rough treatment of his leg by Mr. Miyagi's earlier pin. He could tell that the bruises would be deep in color and numerous once they'd developed, and Hoshikita could only imagine what sort of grandiose and unconvincing lie he'd have to spin to cover for the bruises when questioned by his fellow Marines. He could already see the smirks he'd be receiving, and he wished that the old man hadn't gone immediately for his face with the first attack. His cheek and neck were aching still from that blow, and Hoshikita gave an amateur massage of the area as he half walked, half limped over to the training equipment. He could see the dark haired man from earlier jogging steadily on a treadmill, and he rose his hand in acknowledgement, too beaten and weary to perform a full wave. The other man seemed to notice, and asked for confirmation in the kung fu master's strength. Hoshikita wasn't sure if it was a rhetorical question, but on the off chance it wasn't he decided to answer anyway, not wanting to be the instigator of an awkward silence. "You can say that again. I'm one of the better fighters from the base, but he really gave me the workaround." Hoshikita answered, casually referring to the marine base where he was stationed. He had become so accustomed to speaking with the other marines in his branch that he usually never referred to it as anything other than "the base". Still, not thinking much of it and not wanting to distract himself from his training too much, he turned towards the exercise equipment himself.

He first thought to use some sort of simple aerobics machine to warm up, but after a quick glance around the room he quickly realized that not many of those machines were designed or intended for use by members of the long leg tribe. The leg press wasn't long enough to fully extend his knees, the elliptical machine was too short to allow him a good workout, which essentially left only the treadmills for use in way of simple cardio workouts. He decided to go with one a few treadmills away from the other student, so that the both of them could have some space to breathe, and hopped up on the machine. The complexity of the engineering was quite astounding to the humble and down to earth marine, and while he had thought it would be easy after seeing Linedwell jogging on one so comfortably, it took him a few minutes of fiddling with the dials before he was able to get the machine to take action. Unfortunately for him though, he had spun the correct dial too far and the machine quickly accelerated to a point where Hoshikita would hardly have been able to keep up in good health, and in his beaten and bruised condition he quickly succumbed to the speed and was slammed onto the conveyor belt where he was quickly ejected onto the floor.

The impact and floor burn inflicted great irritation that seemed to peel away at Hoshikita's skin and the young marine cursed on the floor for a moment before he was able to regain his composure. "Fucking son of a seagull, that hurts." He groaned as he rose from the floor to a standing position. He looked over to Linedwell to check if he'd noticed and if he was particularly amused. Whether or not he was looking, the young marine would feel quite embarrassed before looking back at the machine and continuing with what he was doing. He walked around the machine to look at the dials once again, and he played around with them while standing on the floor until the belt reached a suitable speed. He then shakily walked over to the machine and hopped up, sliding backwards a bit before gaining his stride and beginning his workout. He hadn't expected to be spending his secret kung fu training walking in place, but at least so far the whole thing had been a great exercise in pain tolerance and endurance. That would be valuable enough, but Hoshikita still hoped he'd be able to get a bit of martial arts knowledge out of that old man before the rest of his knowledge was beaten out of him.

WC: +754=2797

There had been no method to the madness, no logic in the lunacy that had brought Amatsu to this place other than the obsession of reaching his zenith. The titan of a man was tethered to a shadow that would have eclipsed two of normal stature. Slow, methodical steps contrasted his rather large size in every way. Yet the behemoth appeared nothing short of intimidating. It was not only the colossal size that made up this daunting presence. One could enumerate the visage of savagery by the mountain of defaced muscle that held scars from shoulder to toe, or the shredded Gi top that barely clung to his form. His breaths were profound from what appeared to be strenuous training based on the pool of sweat that collected into a small puddle near his feet. Lacerated cuffs would expose deep dark bruising that ascended from his toes to the top of his shin. The right side seemed to be more copious suggesting that it was his primary leg. Vitae dripped from his knuckles hitting the ground in an almost rhythmic cadence forming its own small puddle that threatened to merge with the perspiration that had already formulated. Yet that is what he had given this place day in and day out …blood and sweat. He had seen other students and known the other man to teach others. Yet he preferred to train alone and the old man allowed it. Every now and then the elderly teacher would give miniscule words of knowledge to incite Qilin’s curiosity as he knew the large man would be too proud to ask on his own. Everyday his mind yearned to know more than the day before and every day the old man would give him just enough to wet the palate. To Qilin it was a contentious process that only served to bolster the old man’s sophist ego. He did not care for the philosophies or the Mantra’s and he gave two sh*ts about the history. All he wanted was what was effective in combat. The rest would be deposited into the nethermost portion of his temporal lobe where memories faded and died.

Though somehow through all the cryptic talk and ancient mumbo jumbo the juggernaut of a man had grown more refined in his skill. Albeit leaps and bounds from his ideal goal yet he was clearly further along than he had originally thought. It was confusing in that he didn’t know whether to compliment his own intense training and hourly repetition or to acknowledge the old man’s ambiguous beads of wisdom and guiding hand. Either way it slowly shifted a mutual respect between two men into an admiration of Sensei and student. Though the transition was not exactly effortless it seemed that the endeavor did in fact bear fruit. Qilin was trained much different than everyone one else was. It was unclear whether this was due to his immense size and unsettling nature or simply the old man’s way of appeasing Qilin’s wish in that he stay secluded. Every day Qilin was supposed to strike a metal block 10,000 times a day with kicks, punches, and elbows. In the beginning he was simply instructed to strike the block with no other instructions. He would do so for days at a time, well after strength had left the body and tendons and muscles tore. Now after countless drills and repetition the brain no longer registered the pain and his limbs would strike of their own accord without him even being conscious of it. His punches and kicks had turned into weapons he barely recognized and his muscle memory was astounding. A strange request had been asked of him as this training was complete however. He was asked to join the others who had come. The old man knew that Qilin would no doubt reject such a thing yet would hold his tongue out of respect.

However, no such respect existed between himself and these other students. There was no pact that could be made between the insect and the boot that crushed it….no bargain that could be struck. So as he stood before them there were no bows, nods, or any semblance of respect. Merely a stern gaze that fixated on all before him like a predator to its prey. Such a thing fortified by his heavy breathing that sounded more beast than man passing through such powerful lungs. His Sensei’s reasoning had not been very cogent and all it took was one dirty look to galvanize the short tempered man into action. He was no gentle giant by any means yet he would not resort to such actions of violence without provocation as he was taught. Yet provocation had not yet been clearly defined in his mind as of yet. Dark brown hues scanned the area picking apart each person in his immediate vicinity with his eyes. If looks could kill, such ocular omnipotence would have made him the culprit of a much needed genocide. Lucky for all in attendance such blessings were not at his disposal and he was confined to merely observing for now. His arms folded over his massive chest as his ragged clothing ambled along the breeze that managed to somehow find its way through the building. He was awaiting further instruction from the old man but he knew it would not be that simple. No, to merely instruct him would just be too easy. He had to have some great test, some hidden obstacle he had to overcome. For a teacher is not a giver of truth, he is a guide, a pointer to the truth that each student must find for himself. Or at least that is what the old man used to tell him. More of that silly gibberish he was always spouting off about. He however would remain fixed and would wait on one of the other students to make introduction. He was technically not a part of this dojo just a student of its master thus he was not inclined to follow any rules of seniority not that he would if situation had been so otherwise. Yet he would stick around…not just because of the old man, but he was also curious about everyone here even though his better judgement and his demeanor stated otherwise.

WC:1,053

Even though Linedwell had been the first person to initiate conversation he was already beginning to regret his decision. There wasn't anything wrong with this long-legged person, in fact, he seemed like a nice person. Linedwell was sure this was a person that he'd eventually be able to get along with, but  Linedwell wasn't the type of person that fancied small talk. Any talk that he usually engaged in had a purpose or some reason to it - not merely to avoid awkward silences. It seemed his embarrassment that came about as a result of his beating earlier had caused him to take on actions that he normally wouldn't have.

Though he could have merely nodded his head in reply to the male's response he decided that he needed to follow through with what he started.

"I see. Well, hopefully he'll fill us in on how he grew so strong. I'm sure he did more than simply get beat up by his sensei."

While Linedwell continued his brisk jog on the treadmill, he couldn't help but catch a few glances of the male attempting to start up his own machine. He appeared to be struggling - far more so than Linedwell had in his earlier attempts. Yet, before Linedwell could give the man any advice on how to start his machine he was already falling face first into the conveyor belt and being thrown off. The whole event had transpired so quickly that Linedwell wasn't exactly sure how he should react. Should he get off of the treadmill and see if the male needed any assistance, or should he simply act as though he had noticed nothing and avoid the situation entirely? Linedwell quickly decided on the latter and continued his run while facing straight ahead. He wanted it to appear as if he had no idea that anything had transpired, thus hopefully alleviating any of the embarrassment that the male might have felt about what just occurred.

The longer that Linedwell continued to run, the more he noticed that the pain that he'd experienced earlier was beginning to fade even more. Things were getting to a point where he began to feel that he could amp things up a bit more and increase the speed of the treadmill. After doing so, he began to go into a run now. The rate in which he was recovering seemed almost unnatural. Less than an hour ago Linedwell could remember being beaten up and tossed all over the dojo, the injuries he sustained felt as though they'd linger around much longer than they had - but right now that pain was a thing of the past. He began to wonder if increased recovery was something that Mr. Miyagi intentionally planned. He opened his mouth to ask the male next to him if he felt any different so far, but before he could speak he noticed something odd. The male's breathing sounded extremely labored - as if he'd just finished running a marathon. There was a quick thought that maybe this feeling of rejuvenation was unique to only Linedwell, but as he turned his head to inspect the male he noticed that the man didn't seem to be breathing as hard as the sound seemed to indicate. It was only then that Linedwell managed to catch a glimpse of the shadow that now loomed over the wall in front of them. He turned around a bit in order to see what was behind him and the sight that greeted him was a behemoth of a man. This second male simply stood behind them; his arms crossed and sweat dripping off of him in a fashion that made it seem as though someone had just doused him with a bucket full of water. His clothing appeared to be in tatters and he didn't exactly appear to be on the friendly side - yet, none of this intimidated Linedwell. What Linedwell was curious about was why this man seemed to simply be standing in place and staring at the both of them. With a sigh, Linedwell slowly turned down the speed on the treadmill until it finally came to a stop. Once it did, he turned around and faced the male.

"Something on your mind, or do you usually just stand around in a menacing fashion?"

As Linedwell spoke he began to wonder if this guy was another student of Mr. Miyagi's or if he was someone that either he or the long-legged male should have known. Either way he figured he'd find out.


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Upon hearing Linedwell remark upon his hopes that Mr. Miyagi would impart some of the knowledge as to how he attained his own strength and that it likely wasn't the result of a series of pummelings, Hoshikita let out a casual "Yeah." He wasn't intending to be dismissive, however he had little to add to the conversation. The young marine still had to focus on his own workout, as after being thrashed so thoroughly by the aged karate master, Hoshikita had developed a bit of a want for retribution. It wasn't as if he held a grudge against the elderly man, but he still felt incredibly slighted for not being able to land even a single blow on him. He couldn't help but feel that it was due to some weakness in himself rather than the old man's overwhelming strength, and he urged himself to press forward despite the aches and pains that still punctuated the difference between himself and the master as he continued.

Hoshikita had set the treadmill to a much more reasonable speed this time, and after rather shakily working through his first through steps he quickly found that the workout was perhaps a bit too light. His stride was far longer than the machine was supposedly intended for, and Hoshikita slowly increased the intensity of the belts movement until he felt that he could at least keep up a light jog without having to pause and wait for the machine to catch up with him. His bare feet padded against the smooth nylon surface of the belt, and thin beads of sweat ran down his sun bronzed skin. Hoshikita couldn't help but feel that it might be more rewarding for him to jog around the island, or do some acrobatics in the forest, as opposed to running in place in a room full of machines. He was a simple man who wasn't particularly fond of using these strange contraptions and machines to exercise his body, but he thought that this might too be another test from Mr. Miyagi. Perhaps this was an exercise to help the two of them clear their minds and allow them to take the Sensei on with a clear head and freshly toned muscles. With that thought, Hoshikita redoubled his efforts and turned up the knob on his treadmill once again. It had not reached the speed he had originally set it to, but it wasn't far off either. The young marine looked straight ahead, trying to empty his mind of all thoughts and focus only on putting one foot in front of another.

This continued on for several minutes, and Hoshikita was beginning to really work up a sweat and his breathing became a bit heavier. He was still focused on his workout, but out of the corner of his eye he saw Linedwell turning off his machine and stepping off of it. Thinking that he had decided to choose another machine, Hoshikita thought that perhaps he had had enough of the treadmills as well. He really did prefer running far distances rather than just in place like he had, and it had also seemed rather easy despite the increased intensity he had allowed himself towards the end. His arms also needed exercise, and he thought to maybe find a machine to provide him a greater challenge as he turned the knob down slowly and matched his pace with the belt until he had come to a complete stop. Hoshikita then turned around and moved to step off of his machine when he noticed that there was a complete stranger standing behind them whom Linedwell appeared to be conversing with. There was one thing that stood out immediately to the young marine, and that was the immense size and brawn of the lightly clad stranger before them. "Woah, you've got muscles. Who are you?" Hoshikita asked, masterfully using the eloquence he had developed during his years as a self proclaimed poet to put forth his query. His manners seemed to have escaped him after his thorough beating and intentionally mind numbing work out, and he stepped off of the treadmill with a genuinely curious look on his face after interrupting their conversation. He walked up next to the two men, standing several feet above the both of them, as was the norm for the Long Legged tribe. His pale blue Hawaiian shirt clung damply to his chest, having collected a large amount of sweat during the workout thus far. He waited patiently for an introduction from the man, appearing as friendly as possible with his right hand scratching the back of his head and his left hand placed loosely in his pocket. 

WC: +796=3593

The scenes of flashing city lights, the mobs of life treading with reckless haste, and the unique signs of technological development were all a mystery to the inhabitant’s farmers or at least they acted oblivious to it. It seemed the people on the island preferred the simple life and he could honestly understand why. There was a certain level of peace being so far away from the rest of the world. A state of tranquility that came with living off the earth and bringing about life with your own two hands. Qilin had tried it once and for a moment he had found that state of euphoria. But just as quickly as it had come was he reminded that some mean were born to have a life of happiness and some were meant to live a life of purpose. He happened to be the latter out of the two. His dead lover was the penance he had to pay for thinking he could escape his destiny. Now he was here trying to embrace this path set before him and he vowed never to make the same mistake again. In retrospect he figured he had no regrets, he lost the love of his life but he figured it was better to have love and lost. Or at least that’s how the saying went. In reality it was all a steaming heap of bullsh*t. In order to get ahead you had to take what you wanted. Life was all about big fish eat little fish…you were either a shark or a guppy and Qilin preferred to be a shark. Marines, Pirates, whatever in between they all took from each other to get ahead. It is only natural that someone should take the blame for it all and that’s where the Pirates came in. Slender digits left his chin in calculated thought as he realized that he wasn’t even aware that he was lost in his own contemplation. He had been the child who stared out the window in the back of the classroom and it seemed those habits had not been outgrown. The rest of the world was moving on while he was stagnant in a moment of self-reflection. However despite all that went on he remained aware of the many eyes that focused in on him. He was used to such things and he did not shun or bask in the attention he just remained intuitive to the situations around him.

He had been there long enough to see two of the men he assumed the old man was teaching get pummeled. Although wise and very much respected the geezer had a malefic streak. Despite the obvious size advantage Qilin knew better than to square off with the old man. Some beating you could learn from and grow stronger, Then again some beatings were just beatings meant to knock you senseless. It seemed that the a** whoopings being dealt out today did not come with instructions. Omen very much chose not to partake in the festivities. He very much preferred standing on his feet versus being tossed on his behind. However he wasn’t above a muffled chuckle watching the saps in attendance get tossed around. It was then that he heard another loud thud fill the gym. The thunderous impact of a man’s back colliding with the padded mats were vicious indeed. The young pirate if the old man was really that strong in his elderly years or was it the acoustics that amplified the audible thud. Either way he would not be the one to test the theory. He had already began to cool down and it seemed the old man was still having fun so he decided to work the punching bag that was right next to him. Normally they were advised to wear wraps so that their fingers would not spread and the hands would not break. Also it maintained wrist integrity and so on. He just got done punching a steel block for 3 hours so he was pretty sure he could handle it. Qilin didn't say anything. Nothing needed to be said. As randomly and unpredictable as he always was there was a goal he needed to achieve for his fists, so he began. He did not attack the bag at first or even approach it. As if an unseen enemy existed between the objective and himself, he struck the air. As if testing his own power, the punch was slow, but signified the training's start. A second later and he punched again, this time faster drawing closer to the heavy tapped leather. Every swing went faster as the last landed with solid power. His punches soon became sporadic and static, swatting at the air and crashing into the bag. The more speed he kept up, Qilin found himself having difficulty locking on his own punches. His display of force swiped the air over and over, repeatedly utilizing the same movement, but trying to remain as unpredictable as possible.

Qilin's movements and motion began to deteriorate slowly as someone drew closer. But then sped up again after he realized he was being distracted. A left jab turned the bag right. The air distorted and Qilin pushed his strength past its limits to create the desired effect, his fist shoving through the bag as sand poured out. He heard a much smaller man ask him about standing around in a menacing fashion. Dark brown hues set upon the smaller figure before walking right past him to grab 4 more of the heavily taped bags. He held two of the bags in each of his massive hands with ease before walking past the man again to take down the damaged one and chain up one of the bags he had carried over. “The look was meant to deter anyone looking to make light conversation. Yet I can see now that more drastic measures will need to be taken next time.” He stated right as a left hook crashed into bag causing it to sway wildly into a left cross that intentionally stabilized the bag again. It was then he would spot another much taller man approach out of his peripherals. A deep sigh escaped his lungs as the man asked who he was. He really needed to work on his intimidation tactics he was definitely getting rusty. His response to them both would be straight to the point. Amatsu….Qilin he stated not bothering to look their way again as he continued to bomb the bag with swift and powerful jabs. If they decided to wait on him to initiate any further conversation there would be only awkward silence there to greet them. The last strike in the combination knocked the heavy training bag off the chain causing it to fly across the dojo. He went ahead and tore the rest of the tattered Gi top from his body like it was paper revealing the rest of his scars and numerous tattoos from long extinct pirate crews. The many markings over his form looked like a time line etched onto flesh. A line drawn through each with the date below to tell of their passing. He pinned another bag up before he began banding the bag with mid-level kicks that folded the bag in half.


WC: 1231 + 1,053= 2,284

"...I see."

There wasn't much else for Linedwell to say after the musclebound man explained the reason behind his overbearing stance. Given the fact that both the long-legged man and himself had addressed the man in question it was quite apparent that his menacing approach hadn't exactly worked. If he'd simply said "Hey, I don't want to be bothered" the chances were likely that it would have worked far better than what he'd actually done.

Anyway, the past was the past and what was done was done. The light conversation had been started and  right now the long-legged male seemed to want to know the musclebound man's name. There seemed to be a bit of hesitation when the man finally decided to reply...well, not really hesitation as much as it appeared to be annoyance. If it hadn't been obvious before it was very obvious now that he wasn't the type to partake too much in socializing. It was an attitude that Linedwell could sympathize with, but he hadn't exactly been following his own rules as of late.

The towering man soon gave his name and then almost immediately went back to his training. Linedwell had to agree that focusing on training at this point in time made the most sense compared to continuing further conversation. After all, they'd all seemed to have come to this dojo in order to increase their skills. If they wanted to socialize they would have been better off making their way into one of the nearby taverns. However, before he went back to his running he decided that he'd prefer not to be rude and simply give his name as well - as the question might soon come up regardless.

"Since we're introducing ourselves, my name is Linedwell Rainrex."

Once that was said, Linedwell turned himself back around and started up the treadmill once more before going back into a run. Right now, Linedwell's focus was on increasing his speed as much as possible. During his brief scuffle with Mr. Miyagi he'd felt that if he'd only been faster he would have been able to do a lot more than he'd been able to during the spar. It went without saying that physical strength was something he'd also have to build up soon, but right now he wanted to at least focus on one thing at a time.


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Hoshikita hadn't exactly gotten the answer he was looking for out of the man apparently known as Amatsu Qilin, but his question hadn't been entirely straight forward either. He had actually been more curious as to whether he was a student to Mr. Miyagi or if he was here for some other reason, or perhaps some insight into his background. Hoshikita was naturally curious by nature, and while a name was a good start and all, it really didn't satisfy his questioning mind. Still, it was obvious by the muscular man's attitude that he wasn't exactly keen to being questioned further, and the young marine was about to walk away before Linedwell spoke up. He stated that since he they were introducing themselves, he would as well and gave his full name. Hoshikita didn't want to feel left out or rude, so he decided to follow suit before heading off to his own training pursuits. "Hoshikita Cross, it's a pleasure." The young marine said with a smile, still wanting to be friendly despite the obviously antagonistic atmosphere. After that though, Linedwell had walked away and there was obviously no more conversation to be had with Amatsu, so Hoshikita headed back off without another word as well.

Hoshikita decided to try out the arm press that he noticed off in a corner of the room, having already wanted to try out something that was a bit more of a challenge to him. His legs were already conditioned to a point where he felt there was little the equipment room could have to challenge him, so he thought that doing something more out of his element would provide more of that burn that signaled an increase in strength. As he brought his arms taught and released in repetition, Hoshikita cleared his mind and began doing visualization exercises in regard to his martial techniques. He would attempt to do two types of training simultaneously in an effort to catch up to that old man who had humiliated him so, and perhaps it would pay off in some way. Hoshikita couldn't help but feel that there was no way for him to be able to defeat the man in the mere two days he had for leave, but landing even one blow was enough for him. With that in mind, he continued working until his muscles strained for release and sweat poured down his brow, and still he continued on. His training had only just begun.

WC: +420=4013

Seeing as the heartwarming conversation was over and both men gave their introductions and left Qilin would now excuse himself to the training fields. Only the most talented of Miyagi’s students dared to go there as death was a concern. As he would step outside a memory flooded his mind. Something that his old Captain had told him.  “There are three things I do not tolerate….the first is disobedience, do what I tell you when I tell you…The second is fear, the vilest weakness that can plague the mind. A Pirate knows he or she is always at risk they embrace death, pain, suffering because that is there destiny. If one embraces the pain and agony life presents than fear becomes obsolete. Finally the most important of all is failure. You are limited in body only if you believe you are but flesh and bone. Believe yourself to be more and it shall come to pass. I will not slow down, I will not repeat myself, and I will not save you….if you are too weak, too slow, and too stupid to learn from me you will die under my command. If you cannot follow my instructions, learn to be resourceful, and soak in what I teach quickly and effectively you will die under my command. Understand you are in a position of privilege that many Pirates would die to be in. This does not make you special in fact it makes you expendable. You can be easily replaced by another body. Through each adventure, each trial, you will not only fight for your life but for your position on this ship.” The Captain had taken a breath before he resumed his speech. “Death is inevitable….I will not tell all of you it will be ok. You know the risks, you know the dangers that await us. But you also know the rewards.  If there are any of you who feel you cannot handle this leave now with no repercussions. I will only extend this offer once” He had said more that day to them than he did in his entire term as Captain but the bonds between a Captain and his crew were very sacred to him thus he felt the speech was necessary. In fact those words had always stuck with Qilin and he planned to use them one day himself.

The scent of cherry blossoms carried along the mild breeze would announce the arrival of the white haired behemoth near the intended training area Mr. Miyagi constructed for his more veteran students. Slow, methodical steps laced with the prowess of a predator lead light wooden sandals he strapped on outside the dojo across the beaten terrain. Soft brown orbs infused with a cold lifelessness would scan the area as a strong hand lead huge digits to knock away a rogue bang that seemingly had grown wild since being on the island.  He had already made plans to come back to this place when he became a notorious Pirate.  It was inevitable….strategically it was the perfect base or outpost for any crew or organization. The land was very secluded and had access to the other Southern blue Islands for trade and such. The food source was plentiful and there were hidden areas everywhere. So many that it took him months to learn them all himself.  One of the children he had spoken to a few times while taking his daily walk in the village would give an underhand toss of one of the Islands famous rice balls. With a half-smile it would be caught and a simple nod would be given before the child burst into laughter again and scurried away. He nibbled on the firm rice savoring the taste yet kept true to his stride.  He would surely miss this place. It was the simple pleasure such as these that made life worth living. Such rudimentary routines were a necessity in maintaining balance and structure in one’s life.  Near the end of his route he would walk near the cemetery and lift his prayer beads to his lips uttering a few words before kissing them and moving forward. All was looking well so far but years of war had taught him…peace is merely an illusion. A statement that was instilled by witnessing the huge battleground that stood before him.  Now he understood why this thing was such a long walk from the dojo itself. It was a monstrous site and would surely put fear in the hearts of any new potential students that the old man would get. The old man wasn’t big on the amenities yet he still had to make a living.

Before he could enter the training grounds however he heard someone playing an instrument. A single step would be taken forward before the melody smoothly made its way to his ears. Such a sound could only be nourished and appreciated in this village. Music….one of the few untainted pleasures in life. He closed his eyes briefly letting the acoustics feel the air. The area was perfect for such a show. The nearby graveyard was empty which gave the brilliant, longitudinal sound waves space keeping the energy intact. There were no surfaces that would absorb the sound and dilute the tones. He opened his eyes and what could have been mistaken for the remnants of a smile crossed his face. He had to get back to his training soon but he had to find out who had been playing the music. Before his mind could even register the thought his feet had guided him to where the music got louder. Every note was like tangible silk against his ears. Each step was taken carefully whether by his own doing or instinctually he was uncertain. The purpose however was clear. He did not want to startle whomever was playing. It was not only because the music was of good quality, but it had an intrigue to it. The mids, highs, lows …they all were like an enigma that only one who was a true student of the art could even fathom to answer. Like the cobra dancing to the sound of the charmer Qilin weaved through the headstones effortlessly until the source of the music was revealed. It was ironic I guess…many martial Artists valued their eyes, yet Qilin could not be without this. The sound of the birds chirping, the breeze as it swam across the field, and this….an artist whether folk or trained, painting the air with their songs. It was safe to say that despite the large man’s hardened exterior the chink in his armor was definitely music. The boy had averted his attention up towards Qilin while playing and a simple hand would be raised serving a dual purpose. The first being that he came in peace and the second was for the boy to continue.

Sitting upon one of the headstones that had belonged seemingly to one of the more veteran members of the afterlife. Qilin simply listened in silence, there were a few townsfolk and small animals rummaging about but he was able to tune them all out as the rhythm coursed through his body. Of course the behemoth of a man would not and could not dance, he was appreciative of the mood that the song provided. For a moment he did all but bask in the melody but his sensibilities were awakened by a quick pause between notes. It was then that his perception spanned outside of the music being played. He noticed the boy’s hands first. They were callused far too much for simply being a musician. The spots that held the thickest skin most likely came from handling rope on a ship and other laborious tasks. The boy had an athletic build which suggested training yet not overly so. That combined with his lack of nimble movement when he played suggested his strongest suit was not physical combat. He closed his eyes as if to listen to the music again and slowly lifted the lids to reveal a cold stare. “I know every Pirate on this Island how  is it that I do not know you?” His voice was barely audible almost a whisper. Yet it held an undisputed authority that demanded an answer. He clenched his fists slowly as eyes seemingly shot through the musician who stood before him. The threat of violence was more of a psychological bluff than an actual tool he planned to use. His deductive reasoning had led him to believe the boy was a young pirate or marine. Probably more skilled with the instrument he was playing than with his sword. The boy gave a halfcocked smile and got up before taking a bow. “It was nice to meet you…Good day sir”. Qilin cut his eyes at the young boy watching him leave with half a mind to stop him. Yet he would have to abandon his curiosity and place his stock in training for today. As he got up and went back to the training grounds n order to prepare for the battles that lay ahead.

-exit-

WC:1535 +2,284=3,819

As the seconds turned into minutes and the minutes into hours, Linedwell slowly began to notice that he'd still been training as hard as he possible could within the dojo of Mr. Miyagi. Even though his intention today had been to come to this place in search of training and guidance, he hadn't expected himself to become this invested in the task. Honestly, he wasn't really sure what he'd expected out of coming here today but he was glad the day ended up the way it did. In meeting someone of Mr. Miyagi's caliber he was able to see just how far he'd have to advance if he were to ever stand a chance in places beyond the South Blue.

Given how invested Linedwell became with this training, he began to lose track of the other students that were training nearby - not even noticing the exit of the towering male known as Amatsu. Linedwell had put all of his attention into his training, increasing the speed in which he ran on the treadmill to the put he'd been in an all out sprint for the remainder of his time within the dojo. With the feeling of rejuvenation having long been gone and extreme exhaustion beginning to set in, Linedwell began to assume it was about time he wrapped things up. Mr. Miyagi seemed to also feel the same way about the situation, as it was now getting late into the evening and he might have been ready for bed.

"Come back tomorrow and I'll have more for you to do. Given how hard you worked on this specialized equipment, I can estimate you've had a stamina increase of at least 66.6%...you should be able to handle tomorrow's training. Now, go get some rest."

With those words, Linedwell simply bowed in the direction of his new sensei - something he'd never done before, and then made his exit. He was now headed towards the nearby Inn to take a shower and get some well deserved rest.

-exit-

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