An Okama at his finest.

Byron was spending some time to himself right now in one of the local small forest areas within Yotsuba. The leaves were falling down all around him at this moment in time. He was practicing with his personal martial art. No way was he gonna le this skills be reduced to nothing. In this world, you had to be ready. Ready for anything that decided to come at you. Life could hit you upside the head like a apple off a tre-

and it was at that moment. An apple actually did conk Byron on the head. Falling promptly on the ground afterwards.


He smirked a bit, man he was getting pretty aloff with this. Now wasn't the time for Byron to drop his guard though. As he would practice his clawing motions at the trees around him. Going back and forth with smooth strokes. He could feel himself attuning with the motion, getting more and more familiar with it. Training was necessary to improve your personal capabilities. If he just kept blindly swiping at people with basic techniques, that would get him killed.  Careful strokes of his "swipes" were making contact against the trees. Smoothly, elegantly. Like ripples through the waves. However the air was like a big sea, and his hands were only mere waves brushing up against it back and forth. Leaving marks against the very bark he was now hitting.

Eventually though, Byron seemed to run out of breath, and would take a minute to recollect himself. Breathing deeply in and out. He had to keep up his "tempo" here. In a fight, there was always a Tempo, a rhythm you always followed. Something you kept up with while you were fighting another person, or even several. It was something he personally called "battle tempo". He could never understand it, but it seemed to pop out in every fight that he was in. A rather strange thing, or maybe his lack of breathing was getting to him. As the okama gasped out loudly, trying to intake oxygen. Rather embarrassing thing to forget to breath :v. Right now he'd just take a bit to breath in and out carefully, he needed to break that habit of not really breathing in the middle of things. Otherwise Byron would just collapse in the middle of things. Getting up again, now with renewed strength. Byron would continue to slash at the bark with his hands, albeit not actually touching them. Motion and fluidity were very important, and if he didn't have any. He was just a half ass "martial artist" coming from East Blue. The ScrubBlue. He'd shiver at the very idea of being a "failure". He came so far right now, nothing was gonna get in his way. As he'd bang his fingers in the side of a tree bark. Causing him to resoundingly shriek through the forest that day. Making birds fly off in panic.


Shaking his hand as he'd blow on it too. He never really took well to banging things up. Especially when  it came to actually hitting them on purpose. This was worse than the damn time he stubbed his toe against a table leg. Grimacing at the very memory of it. Incidents like that were a pain in the ass. Byron took his time to now massage gently both of his hands, which were getting sore from the very act of training right now. Lieing back instead. He'd take the time to think,

"What can I really do with this...?"

He'd sit down in deep thought, just what could he truly accomplish with this...?

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Total Word Count:634

Byron had been sitting there for a while. Before restanding back up again. Now...He had some new found inspiration after sitting ind eep thought fo ra while. Resuming his earlier motions the man would continue to claw at the air, carefully, alot more slowly compared to before in order to truely "master" himself and "find" himself within his martial arts style. To be able to hurt others, one must be capable of getting hurt themselves, and in order to gain mastery over others.....

You guessed it. One had to master themselves first. as he'd make an indention in a tree trunk. The leaves falling ever so peacefully around him. Nature in it's own right was a work of art to the Okama. The leaves falling so gently around him, what if... He was as gentle as them? Could he move with such grace?Such Poise as they could?Fall so smoothly yet bet so fragile at the same time? Maybe he was overthinking these damns leaves a little too much. Landing blow after blow across the air, his hands were like paint brushes moving swiftly across the air. In a sense, this was. His "masterpiece". The wood chipped and chipped as he continued to hit it on and on. Though, it really was starting to leave him with some horribly nasty ass splinters that certainly were not going to come off any time soon. Ouch. What was he to doo about that :v.  Pain was necessar yto push through, it was a sign you were doing these kinds of things right. Right? Atleast, that was what Byron had thought to himself as he kept hitting the wood hard. Hm. What did it really mean to utilize his claws. Maybe... There was something bigger he could get out of these, besides "just cutting" people. The okama felt too simplistic, too basic with how he was preforming this, and on the rather was trying to discover something new with his strikes. Something that could give it that extra kick, whazam. Pow. That he really needed. He was gonna encounter bigger foes throughout his life. That small time gang that tried to rob him was only the stepping stone to his "journy" as a pirate and as a person in his entirety.

Scraping back and forth against the barks, he would continue to mov ethroug hthe forest, standing still was not good practice. As his trees appeared to him like opponents. Really brown, barky like ones that had arms in places that couldn't even hit him. He pounced like a predator, moving back and forth as he maintained his "pressure". With those "slashes" he was producing off of his arms. Byron was sure as hell getting into it, though in his own right, the okama was not an animal by any means. The idea of mimicking the style of an animals fighting though.... That intrigued him. There had been rumors of styles that imitated animals within their own rights named things like "Monkey Fist" or some other shit, but now wasn't the time to be "monkeying around". Hah, the joke made him laugh on the inside. Continuing his claw barrage against his make shift opponents. It came with a sudden leap forward as one was promptly torn against, before the okama did a back roll and ended up nearly donkey kicking one that he had rolled himself into. Hut Hoi! These trees were being real formidable right now... As he didn't view them as trees, but simply "enemies" taking the form of trees!For all he knew there could be people hiding within them. Though...If people were hiding within them, they'd have popped out and ambushed him now. Especially with how his exaustion was starting to get to him.

Practicing his stances now, he'd assume a variety of ones. His first being his hands placed out in front of him and moving gently across his body. Mimicing as if he were cutting through multiple people at once with grace. With gentle movements like a river. He danced through the mid-day air.  Swaying with the breeze and everything around him. If only his fingers were like knives. Then he would actually be cutting things up for sure, without any form of failure or hesitation, but alas they were not. He'd continue to dance through the forest. In a zen like state almost. He was one with the enviroment, the very essence of everything around him. Was he tripping that day? Maybe,but he was certainly getting some real training done on himself. Furthering his claw mastery further and further. Byron then realized he was ignoring a rather vital part of his skills. His palms, which were another part that he used in combat, as practical as it was to just "cut" people. If he neglected his palms, he wouldn't have a second option against opponents he couldn't cut at all.

Clenching his fists and then opening them, shapign his fingers almost like a claw with his palms forward. Byron now continued to strike at the trees very core utilizing only his palm strikes. Making nearly a rhythm as he started to chain combination after combination upon them to dead dastardly damage. As the very bark would begin to break on some of them and chip and the like. He had some strength, but his true strength lied within his speed, and not within his capabilities of breaking through materials. The wood stung against his hands, but that would not stop Byron's training at all. Pain, Pain had to be ignored for the sake of progress,Achivement,Fufillment. No way was some minor "pain" gonna get to him now. If he couldn't handle the chips of some stupid tree. How on earth was he going to handle someone actually hitting him?Or being stabbed like he had been before?

Current Word Count:1005
Total Word Count:1,638

+40 Stamina in total