Crane on a Rock
By Cyberwulf
Rated T (for mild drug reference)
Disclaimer: Buffy and related characters belong to Joss Whedon.
Spoilers: The Dark Age.
Summary: Sometimes you need help to pick yourself up.
Feedback: To the button.
Concentrate. Why couldn't he concentrate?
He'd done this hundreds of times before. He'd known this kata forwards, backwards, right side, mirror side. And now he was stuck.
They'd been training for an hour and a half. His legs were shaking from holding wide stances and from rapid-fire kicks. His arms were burning from non-stop punching. His lungs ached from smoking too much. He was fat from his mother over-feeding him. He had hair and sweat in his eyes and he couldn't do this one, simple, sequence of moves.
He managed to bring one leg up, tucking it behind his other knee, and wracked his brain for the next move. Something about punching Mount Fuji. He tried to switch off, let his subconscious guide his hands and feet. It didn't work. There was nothing there. Shouldn't have smoked all that grass. Shouldn't have messed with magic. Shouldn't have run away in the first place.
He lost his balance, coming down hard on the cellar floor, and then he couldn't see for tears. His body was wrecked, his brain was fried and it was his own stupid, stupid fault.
"Oh, Rupert."
His father was on the floor with him, his large hands on Rupert's arms. Rupert leaned against his shoulder and held on tight, twisting his fingers in the rough material of his father's gi. The comforting scent of tobacco, books and Brylcreem overwhelmed what was left of his resolve, and he cried harder, his whole body shaking. After a moment he felt his father put his arms around him.
"It's all right, son." His dad was almost rocking him. "We'll do it together."
End
