Post by Rensou Hiruen on Nov 27, 2011 0:23:14 GMT -5
The training of a young Saiyan is certainly an engaging process, as Tsuyei Hiruen was finding. Before his proud eyes his only son drilled, his fists and feet a blur of aggression. . .much like his own. In an instant he had spotted malfunction and with a blur he had taken a position before his child and caught his tiny fist in his large, calloused hand.
“F-father. . .?” stammered the student as he let out a grunt and tried to pull his fist away from his father, and for a moment the trademark aggression of his race rose within him and he unleashed his other fist in a looping hook routed for his teacher's jawline. The freehand of Tsuyei Hiruen came to life much too quickly for the enraged attack to land, catching the other balled hand of his little one with no more effort than he had the first.
“. . .and that's why you can't hit me, Rensou,” he began, releasing his iron grip from the small fists of his pride and stepping backwards as his attentive youngster beheld him as he assumed a fighting stance, and captivated the small one's attentions. “When you punch, you punch with your legs,” Tsuyei continued as his legs tensed, firmly planted into place to ground his assault.
Rensou's boots slid apart across the dusty ground of Planet Vegeta, tiny plumes of dirt particle floating away as he followed the instruction of his father to the best of his ability. For now, he could be easily lifted and thrown from the spot by an adversary of similar or even weaker power level, if that person were to be more technical that the learning child. “Like this, father!?” he questioned, turning expectant eyes up at the man, whom, like his mother, was his entire world.
The nod of Tsuyei and the grin he showed, flashing his whitened teeth was the most wondrous thing in all of Vegeta to young Rensou, and he laughed joyously when Tsuyei affirmed his technique. “Pretty good, son. . .now, use the anchor point of your legs to turn your hips into the strike!” he educated, swiveling at the pivot point that was his waist with blinding speed.
The small Saiyan's technique was quickly coming together, and his small face squinted as he focused to drive his body to do as his father asked. Twice more Tsuyei turned his body, and Rensou followed the movement of him as Tsuyei had his own father. “The shoulder and elbow must maintain rigidity to increase your impact, son,” and he knelt before his boy and placed a hand out before Rensou. Rensou nodded his recognition before balling his hands before him and clenching his teeth. At last, Tsuyei gave the customary snapping of his fingers that signaled action from the day Rensou had begun his tutelage.
“Hyah! ! !” cried the tiny one, his tail whipping behind him as his planted feet lashed his hips and a steady shoulder and straightened elbow delivered a jab that stung the palm of Tsuyei's hand. “Again!” cried his father, and Rensou listened, his fist smashing into the gloved again at every repetition of the word and customary snap of the fingers. Finally, Tsuyei halted the drill and stood to his full height, twice that of the son.
“Now, hit me!” he commanded, giving Rensou no time to react as he swept the legs from under his child with a low kick that sent the boy toppling downward. Unaware of his father's intent, Rensou nearly contacted ground with body and head before he realized he was now in a fight. Using his arm as a spring, the boy cartwheeled to the side before flipping backward to his feet. In an instant he had charged his father, using the recoil of his landing to propel himself forward at great speed.
Tsuyei could have drove a foot into his reckless son's face at any moment during his reckless charge, or dropped low to drive an uppercut into stomach and drive away the oxygen within the boy. Instead, he opted to defend and reap the rewards of his lesson as his head feinted to the side and the first punch from his son missed widely. On the second, his hand caught the fist and flung Rensou and all his momentum over him. Much to his liking, the boy was quick to react as he landed on his feet and drove back in, feigning an uppercut to deliver an overhand swing that was only sidestepped as his father toyed with him. Suddenly, Tsuyei leaped backwards and shook his head.
“Too much instinct, use your technique, Rensou! ! !” he yelled, his feet widening as his formerly defending hands rose to provide means of attack. Rensou glared ferociously into the eyes of his father and nodded briskly before circling to his outside with the footwork his mother had instilled into his repertoire.
“. . .that's it,” Tsuyei encouraged as his boy ducked a high kick and noticed a bright light approaching the right side of his face. Instinctively, he ducked his head to avoid what he thought was. . .but how, he had not instructed Rensou in the mastery of ki that was Tsuru-no-ha, was his wife, Kairiko, suddenly here and lending assistance to his son? No, that was not the case. “This Tsuru-no-ha is the color of the ocean,” his mind remarked before. . . “Oof! ! !” he exclaimed, lifted into the air by some unseen attack and planted on his back.
Rensou stared triumphantly down at the bruise upon his father's chin where his uppercut had taken a toll. His Tsuru-no-ha was no where near powerful enough to rival his hand speed and power, but it provided a beautiful diversion and had distracted his father and enabled him to complete his lesson.
“Grandpa taught me!” he chimed, bouncing excitedly into the air repeatedly as Tsuyei rose and began to rub the sore spot on his chin, staring with an annoyed expression as his son before his pride broke through and he chuckled with a strong smile.
“Tell me next time, you know, after we return from the mission,” we being Rensou's brother and mother in addition to his father. The mission being the planet conquering expedition in which all three would eventually cease to live within this dimension.
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Rensou Hiruen sat upright in his bed, gasping for air, sweat beading his brow as he realized it had all been a dream of a better time. The hand of the Saiyan reached to his bedside stand to grasp the bottle placed upon it, and he uncorked it with his teeth before turning it to his lips and drinking heavily of the cheap Vegetan liquor. The dreams were less vivid when he was drunk.
[[This is, indeed, a training post. I just figured I'd do it in a setting where Rensou is a child remembering his father to add flavor.]]
“F-father. . .?” stammered the student as he let out a grunt and tried to pull his fist away from his father, and for a moment the trademark aggression of his race rose within him and he unleashed his other fist in a looping hook routed for his teacher's jawline. The freehand of Tsuyei Hiruen came to life much too quickly for the enraged attack to land, catching the other balled hand of his little one with no more effort than he had the first.
“. . .and that's why you can't hit me, Rensou,” he began, releasing his iron grip from the small fists of his pride and stepping backwards as his attentive youngster beheld him as he assumed a fighting stance, and captivated the small one's attentions. “When you punch, you punch with your legs,” Tsuyei continued as his legs tensed, firmly planted into place to ground his assault.
Rensou's boots slid apart across the dusty ground of Planet Vegeta, tiny plumes of dirt particle floating away as he followed the instruction of his father to the best of his ability. For now, he could be easily lifted and thrown from the spot by an adversary of similar or even weaker power level, if that person were to be more technical that the learning child. “Like this, father!?” he questioned, turning expectant eyes up at the man, whom, like his mother, was his entire world.
The nod of Tsuyei and the grin he showed, flashing his whitened teeth was the most wondrous thing in all of Vegeta to young Rensou, and he laughed joyously when Tsuyei affirmed his technique. “Pretty good, son. . .now, use the anchor point of your legs to turn your hips into the strike!” he educated, swiveling at the pivot point that was his waist with blinding speed.
The small Saiyan's technique was quickly coming together, and his small face squinted as he focused to drive his body to do as his father asked. Twice more Tsuyei turned his body, and Rensou followed the movement of him as Tsuyei had his own father. “The shoulder and elbow must maintain rigidity to increase your impact, son,” and he knelt before his boy and placed a hand out before Rensou. Rensou nodded his recognition before balling his hands before him and clenching his teeth. At last, Tsuyei gave the customary snapping of his fingers that signaled action from the day Rensou had begun his tutelage.
“Hyah! ! !” cried the tiny one, his tail whipping behind him as his planted feet lashed his hips and a steady shoulder and straightened elbow delivered a jab that stung the palm of Tsuyei's hand. “Again!” cried his father, and Rensou listened, his fist smashing into the gloved again at every repetition of the word and customary snap of the fingers. Finally, Tsuyei halted the drill and stood to his full height, twice that of the son.
“Now, hit me!” he commanded, giving Rensou no time to react as he swept the legs from under his child with a low kick that sent the boy toppling downward. Unaware of his father's intent, Rensou nearly contacted ground with body and head before he realized he was now in a fight. Using his arm as a spring, the boy cartwheeled to the side before flipping backward to his feet. In an instant he had charged his father, using the recoil of his landing to propel himself forward at great speed.
Tsuyei could have drove a foot into his reckless son's face at any moment during his reckless charge, or dropped low to drive an uppercut into stomach and drive away the oxygen within the boy. Instead, he opted to defend and reap the rewards of his lesson as his head feinted to the side and the first punch from his son missed widely. On the second, his hand caught the fist and flung Rensou and all his momentum over him. Much to his liking, the boy was quick to react as he landed on his feet and drove back in, feigning an uppercut to deliver an overhand swing that was only sidestepped as his father toyed with him. Suddenly, Tsuyei leaped backwards and shook his head.
“Too much instinct, use your technique, Rensou! ! !” he yelled, his feet widening as his formerly defending hands rose to provide means of attack. Rensou glared ferociously into the eyes of his father and nodded briskly before circling to his outside with the footwork his mother had instilled into his repertoire.
“. . .that's it,” Tsuyei encouraged as his boy ducked a high kick and noticed a bright light approaching the right side of his face. Instinctively, he ducked his head to avoid what he thought was. . .but how, he had not instructed Rensou in the mastery of ki that was Tsuru-no-ha, was his wife, Kairiko, suddenly here and lending assistance to his son? No, that was not the case. “This Tsuru-no-ha is the color of the ocean,” his mind remarked before. . . “Oof! ! !” he exclaimed, lifted into the air by some unseen attack and planted on his back.
Rensou stared triumphantly down at the bruise upon his father's chin where his uppercut had taken a toll. His Tsuru-no-ha was no where near powerful enough to rival his hand speed and power, but it provided a beautiful diversion and had distracted his father and enabled him to complete his lesson.
“Grandpa taught me!” he chimed, bouncing excitedly into the air repeatedly as Tsuyei rose and began to rub the sore spot on his chin, staring with an annoyed expression as his son before his pride broke through and he chuckled with a strong smile.
“Tell me next time, you know, after we return from the mission,” we being Rensou's brother and mother in addition to his father. The mission being the planet conquering expedition in which all three would eventually cease to live within this dimension.
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Rensou Hiruen sat upright in his bed, gasping for air, sweat beading his brow as he realized it had all been a dream of a better time. The hand of the Saiyan reached to his bedside stand to grasp the bottle placed upon it, and he uncorked it with his teeth before turning it to his lips and drinking heavily of the cheap Vegetan liquor. The dreams were less vivid when he was drunk.
[[This is, indeed, a training post. I just figured I'd do it in a setting where Rensou is a child remembering his father to add flavor.]]
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