A/N: For the record, Domovoi is 14 here. Carry on.
"Again."
Panting, Domovoi obediently returned to the starting position. His feet snapped together and he pulled his shoulders back, arms at his sides. He could have sworn he had it that last time.
He bowed, then placed one hand on top of the other, making an arrow out of his arms. Spread his feet until his shoulders, knees and ankles were in alignment. Rotated his wrists so that his thumbs and fingertips formed a triangle in a traditional affirmation that he carried no weapons, though of course Madame Ko already knew this. And then he began his kata for the umpteenth time this afternoon.
Palm thrust to the face, side kick, head snap left, crescent step and left turn. Diagonal horse stance, grab opponent, throw over shoulder. Head snap right, crescent step, two vertical punches to the solar plexus, spinning jump over the fallen opponent and execute an uppercut punch upon landing.
Domovoi exhaled on each strike, pouring all of his considerable strength into defeating the onslaught of imaginary attackers. The crisp fabric of his gi snapped which every blindingly fast movement, but speed wasn't the focus of this particular kata. This one was all about the power behind the attacks. Ensuring that whatever he hit was not going to get back up.
Knife hand block, front kick, roundhouse kick, two rapid seiken tsuki - one to the solar plexus, one to the groin. Head snap right and crescent step.
Each step was calculated to take him around a tight circle, in the center of which stood an imaginary principle. Domovoi knew this kata inside and out, had every maneuver committed to memory. Yet still Madame Ko insisted he repeat it, declining to tell him what exactly he was doing wrong. He'd been performing this accursed kata nonstop for no less than three hours, the sweltering Israeli sun beating down on him the whole while. Domovoi imagined the oppressive heat as yet another attacker he had to fend off. A damp, heavy blanket trying to weigh him down. He refused to let it. Sweat trickled down his back, but the canvas uniform jacket he wore prevented it from either cooling him or evaporating.
Tiger strike to the throat. Knife hand block, round house kick, uppercut to the jaw.
This time, Domovoi told himself. This time I got it right. He was sure of it. He finished strong with a perfectly executed back kick and bowed to Madame Ko. The boy barely had time to draw a breath.
"Again."
He blinked the sweat out of his eyes and tried to wordlessly beseech his sensei to let him rest. She just stared at him cooly. How in the world did she manage to keep from sweating in this weather? He sighed through his nose. Feet together. Another bow. Triangle.
Palm thrust, side kick, crescent step...
Domovoi was concerned. It was high noon. His stamina was running low, and knew he couldn't keep performing at his best for much longer. Madame Ko would be displeased.
Knife hand, roundhouse...
His tongue felt thick in his mouth. His bare feet had long since grown used to the scorching sand beneath them.
Uppercut, spin, back kick. Bow.
"Again."
Palm thrust, side kick...
Each breath was beginning to feel like a knife blade down Domovoi's dry throat. He knew that his strikes were becoming mechanical, lacking that necessary snap of completion, but he felt overheated, almost feverish. He wondered how many more times he could do this until he died of heatstroke.
Back kick. Bow.
The silence that followed was like psychological torture. The sound of laughing students wafted across the dunes from back at camp. Domovoi braced himself for the disappointment of hearing that aggravatingly calm, "Again."
Instead came, "You are done for today, Butler."
Domovoi could have cried for joy, but he didn't think there was enough moisture left in him for tears. Instead he heaved a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Madame."
Madame Ko pulled a small water bottle from her pocket and handed it to him. It was warm, but he gulped it down in seconds.
Once he'd caught his breath, Domovoi asked tentatively, "May I ask what part of the kata I was doing incorrectly, Madame?"
Madame Ko considered him for so long that Domovoi worried his mistake had been so glaring he was an idiot not to have seen it himself.
"You perfected the kata an hour ago," she said. "I was very pleased with you today."
Domovoi was floored for a minute, then felt a weird mixture of pride and irritation. But mostly pride.
Madame Ko patted him on the shoulder. "Go cool down. Hanshi Garrow will be judging sparring matches on the north end shortly. I am sure you will want to participate."
And she left to go oversee the training of some of her older pupils, leaving Domovoi to privately bask in the glow of that rare and unsolicited compliment.
A/N: I love Madame Ko. But I'm really glad she's not my teacher.
Correct me if I'm wrong, I'm about 90% positive that Butler's training took place in Israel. I believe it said so in Eternity Code. Switzerland and Israel...
Ok pop quiz, who knows where Juliet did her training? Lol, screw Carmen San Diego. Where In The World Is Madame Ko's Academy?