Renamon tried, she really did, but she couldn't seem to hit anything but air.
No matter what she tried, Roland managed to twist his body away or deflect the
attack with a pair of fingers.
Roland slid around behind her. Just half a moment too slow, she swung her leg
in a reverse crescent kick, but before it connected, he gave her a slight push.
Renamon got back up slowly and brushed dirt from her yellow fur.
"What am I doing wrong?" she asked, "I've been trying for hours and I can't
even touch you."
Roland sighed. "Sit down. Let me tell you what my father told me."
They sat and Roland began. "For thousands of years, man has been refining the
arts of fighting. Self defense has been necessary from the time that the first
greedy man tried to kill his neighbor.
"The fighting arts were first organized that we know about three thousand years
ago, in the Greek Pankration and the Chinese Shaolin temples. They were taught
for self defense, for attacking an enemy, for giving people a good show, for
many reasons.
"Today, the reasons have not changed, but the Oriental arts have shown
themselves to be the most effective. There is a reason for this.
"The philosophies that gave birth to these arts all have a common thread: if
you train constantly, persistently, and correctly, then the moment your enter
a fight, you will not have to think, just react. You will enter a state of
clear minded-ness that does not rely on thoughts or emotions. It is known by
many names: no-mind, Zen, the zone, the tree without a shadow. If
you are going to gain back your skill, you are going to have to find it again."
Renamon nodded. "I think I know what you're talking about. When I fought the
digimon that bio-emerged a year ago, it felt as if my actions flowed out of
me. I'm not sure how to get that back."
Roland thought for a moment. "Stand up," he said.
Renamon stood up.
"There, you see?"
"See what?"
"When you stood up, you had it. You didn't think about how to do it, you just
did it."
Renamon was perplexed and astonished at the same time. "You mean, that's all?"
Roland grinned. "To paraphrase a popular American shoe company, 'Just do it.'"
Roland stood for a moment watching Renamon. He casually flicked out his fist,
and Renamon caught it before she had a chance to think about it.
Roland's grin grew further. His other palm arced in a circle to strike her
chest, she blocked. He jabbed his fingers at her throat, she ducked away. He
kicked, she evaded. Renamon had an invisible bubble around her that couldn't
be penetrated, until SMACK! she whirled and struck with a spinning crescent.
Roland rubbed the painful side of his head while he rose. He bared his fangs
playfully and swished his silver tail.
"Nicely done. Now, then, let me show you something I've been working on:
Okamijutsu, the art of the wolf."
Roland went into a crouch, his arms up and bent to a guard and ward off position,
his legs tensed to leap or rooll.
* * *
Roland's gaze followed the hypnotic beams of hot pink light as they arced
through the sable night sky. He sat atop one of the wide sandstone columns
common to the digital world. A few feet away, Renamon suppressed a groan of
pain.
"What's wrong?"
Renamon looked chagrined that he had detected her pain. "It's nothing. Just a
shoulder cramp."
"Let me see it."
Roland stepped around to take a look at her left shoulder and felt it. Under
velvet fur the muscle was hard and tense. Roland frowned, then dug his fingers
into it.
"What are-" started Renamon, then, "ohhh. . ."
After about a half-second of pain, warm liquid gold flooded her shoulder.
Roland worked his fingers up to her neck, then across to the other side. Oooh,
she had never felt anything this good before. She had not been this relaxed
in a long time.
"Where did you learn that?" she asked as he took his hands away.
Roland grinned. "My father taught me. He ran a martial arts dojo. His training
included ways to wind down from an intense session."
For a while they just sat watching the dark night sky, wishing there were
stars.
Renamon looked at his grey, wolfish face. She had never met anyone like Roland
before. He gave without thought of payment, when given a gift he accepted it
with the utmost thanks, and he even held the door open for the people behind
him. Even so, she smiled slightly, even for all his compassion, he was nearly
the most dangerous warrior she had ever met, and he was certainly the most
effective. On top of all that, though, he had an aura of. . . something. With
all the time she'd known Roland, she was still surprised at what he did.
She realized he saw her staring.
"What is it?" he asked.
"Nothing," she said and quickly looked away to the ground. Renamon promptly
cursed herself for a fool. She was behaving like Takato did around Je- She
canceled the thought before it finished.
Blushing slightly, she looked back up at him. He was trying to say something
but was having trouble doing it.
"Renamon," he said at last, "You look lovely with the moonlight on your fur
that." He instantly cursed himself for a fool. There wasn't any moonlight;
there wasn't any moon! He blushed a bit under his fur.
Renamon blushed deeper. "Thank you," she said uncharacteristically shyly.
After about a second Renamon decided that she was acting too much like a nervous
Takato and decided to "just do it."
She leaned up and kissed Roland.
No matter what she tried, Roland managed to twist his body away or deflect the
attack with a pair of fingers.
Roland slid around behind her. Just half a moment too slow, she swung her leg
in a reverse crescent kick, but before it connected, he gave her a slight push.
Renamon got back up slowly and brushed dirt from her yellow fur.
"What am I doing wrong?" she asked, "I've been trying for hours and I can't
even touch you."
Roland sighed. "Sit down. Let me tell you what my father told me."
They sat and Roland began. "For thousands of years, man has been refining the
arts of fighting. Self defense has been necessary from the time that the first
greedy man tried to kill his neighbor.
"The fighting arts were first organized that we know about three thousand years
ago, in the Greek Pankration and the Chinese Shaolin temples. They were taught
for self defense, for attacking an enemy, for giving people a good show, for
many reasons.
"Today, the reasons have not changed, but the Oriental arts have shown
themselves to be the most effective. There is a reason for this.
"The philosophies that gave birth to these arts all have a common thread: if
you train constantly, persistently, and correctly, then the moment your enter
a fight, you will not have to think, just react. You will enter a state of
clear minded-ness that does not rely on thoughts or emotions. It is known by
many names: no-mind, Zen, the zone, the tree without a shadow. If
you are going to gain back your skill, you are going to have to find it again."
Renamon nodded. "I think I know what you're talking about. When I fought the
digimon that bio-emerged a year ago, it felt as if my actions flowed out of
me. I'm not sure how to get that back."
Roland thought for a moment. "Stand up," he said.
Renamon stood up.
"There, you see?"
"See what?"
"When you stood up, you had it. You didn't think about how to do it, you just
did it."
Renamon was perplexed and astonished at the same time. "You mean, that's all?"
Roland grinned. "To paraphrase a popular American shoe company, 'Just do it.'"
Roland stood for a moment watching Renamon. He casually flicked out his fist,
and Renamon caught it before she had a chance to think about it.
Roland's grin grew further. His other palm arced in a circle to strike her
chest, she blocked. He jabbed his fingers at her throat, she ducked away. He
kicked, she evaded. Renamon had an invisible bubble around her that couldn't
be penetrated, until SMACK! she whirled and struck with a spinning crescent.
Roland rubbed the painful side of his head while he rose. He bared his fangs
playfully and swished his silver tail.
"Nicely done. Now, then, let me show you something I've been working on:
Okamijutsu, the art of the wolf."
Roland went into a crouch, his arms up and bent to a guard and ward off position,
his legs tensed to leap or rooll.
* * *
Roland's gaze followed the hypnotic beams of hot pink light as they arced
through the sable night sky. He sat atop one of the wide sandstone columns
common to the digital world. A few feet away, Renamon suppressed a groan of
pain.
"What's wrong?"
Renamon looked chagrined that he had detected her pain. "It's nothing. Just a
shoulder cramp."
"Let me see it."
Roland stepped around to take a look at her left shoulder and felt it. Under
velvet fur the muscle was hard and tense. Roland frowned, then dug his fingers
into it.
"What are-" started Renamon, then, "ohhh. . ."
After about a half-second of pain, warm liquid gold flooded her shoulder.
Roland worked his fingers up to her neck, then across to the other side. Oooh,
she had never felt anything this good before. She had not been this relaxed
in a long time.
"Where did you learn that?" she asked as he took his hands away.
Roland grinned. "My father taught me. He ran a martial arts dojo. His training
included ways to wind down from an intense session."
For a while they just sat watching the dark night sky, wishing there were
stars.
Renamon looked at his grey, wolfish face. She had never met anyone like Roland
before. He gave without thought of payment, when given a gift he accepted it
with the utmost thanks, and he even held the door open for the people behind
him. Even so, she smiled slightly, even for all his compassion, he was nearly
the most dangerous warrior she had ever met, and he was certainly the most
effective. On top of all that, though, he had an aura of. . . something. With
all the time she'd known Roland, she was still surprised at what he did.
She realized he saw her staring.
"What is it?" he asked.
"Nothing," she said and quickly looked away to the ground. Renamon promptly
cursed herself for a fool. She was behaving like Takato did around Je- She
canceled the thought before it finished.
Blushing slightly, she looked back up at him. He was trying to say something
but was having trouble doing it.
"Renamon," he said at last, "You look lovely with the moonlight on your fur
that." He instantly cursed himself for a fool. There wasn't any moonlight;
there wasn't any moon! He blushed a bit under his fur.
Renamon blushed deeper. "Thank you," she said uncharacteristically shyly.
After about a second Renamon decided that she was acting too much like a nervous
Takato and decided to "just do it."
She leaned up and kissed Roland.