Honing the Dull Blade [Germany, Closed]

It wasn’t easy, nothing ever was, but the Queen had to repair damages in both apology and the castle walls. Murmurs and whispered were all around the halls the guards patrolled on the Queen’s rampage earlier but she just had to suck it up and apologize in her state, most were ok with it others still unsure of her mental state. Even with all the mess settling down, Freyleif focused on all the paperwork and holding off her grudge against the Shinigami - for now. In her alone time she focused on meditating in bed trying to shut out the crying infants that haunted her mind, even had trouble sleeping some nights with the nightmares.

The next few mornings she kept her mind busy with paperwork and keeping tabs on reports on clans, edicts to pass, and the meeting of most clan heads who came to talk about the state of things. It was tiresome but at least it kept her from thinking of her faults. Erek would be by her side and she kept her emotions repressed and kept from talking about how she truly felt - there just wasn't time to mope around, especially when she was trying to mature.

She was hunched over the desk writing some papers until she heard the knocking on the door. Letting out a sigh, Erek seemed to let himself and she smiled at him as he asked if she wanted to better herself. She looked at her paper - it could wait - and shrugged softly before replying. “I suppose, what do you have in mind?” she stood up wearing her coattail uniform.

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Erek smiled softly at the girl as she let out a sigh-- buried under paperwork as he had assumed before she would haul herself up with a shrug, and reply to him that she was up for it. Pulling his hands from behind his back, his fist raised simply with a slight smirk.

“Martial arts, an area that you’re greatly lacking in. Similarly-- combat experience against someone that specializes in taking damage. You’re based on speed and precision-- increasing your skill in being able to deal with someone that fights like me without having to fall back on your gintou will be good for you.” As he explained this, he would motion behind him-- obviously meaning to take her to a training room so that they could train without worrying about destroying areas of the castle-- again.

“I’d like to work on your hirenkyaku a bit as well-- you’re a speed specialist, so it’s fairly key to your combat style, no?” His brow arched a bit, before he would wait patiently for her to get anything that she may need, before finally moving forward with her as his hands clasped behind his back while they walked. She was different in many ways-- quieter, calmer-- but she was still herself. Coming to terms with something as painful as she had-- and moving forward to break past that barrier, finally beginning to mature-- it was odd.

He’d only known her for a few months-- but to Erek, if felt oddly similar to how he imagined watching a child grow up felt. He’d felt this before vaguely with soldiers he trained-- but this was different, a much closer bond than he had allowed others to have with him. His gaze trailed upward before a thought occurred to him as they walked, glancing down at her as he examined the scars and metal bonded to her skin.

“You haven’t removed them,” he commented-- wondering if there was a reason for that. Or if perhaps she simply hadn’t thought of it due to all the other things that had happened to her of recent date-- either would be entirely understandable, really.

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It was nice to see a smile for once in the castle, everything had been so dreary and boring in work lately even if she kept to herself. It seemed Erek wished to teach her the art of the ‘fist’ and hone her skills hirenkyaku too. “Hmm, alright,” she said before moving towards another desk on the other side of the room and picked up her cross and necklace. She had a few others laying on the mahogany desk; a gunblade in the fashion of Squall Leonhart, a recently new craft of the wolf-headed cross of her mother’s made of silver, and a lion-headed one; her most prized crosses she made on her own and with the help of the old Hero - Adimus. She smiled over the items then tied the silver chain around her neck before stepping out. Freyleif stayed silent as Erek followed behind, she kept her mind on food to keep distracted on any depressing topics that tried to worm their way in her head - still coming to terms with the death of her newborns.

She nodded to the guards that they passed -keeping a calm air about her and forced out smiles to hide behind. The Queen had to be the ‘proper’ one and face the consequences of her actions, and it was her responsibility to be the pillar of her race and continue dragging the burdens than letting her emotions control her.

A smile crept on her lips as she thought of Erek, he really seemed to care for her - a sense of closeness and reliance bubbled - maybe she could actually trust on her kin for once? She kept distant from her own kind in fear of them knowing what was behind her ask but she didn’t sense any ill intention from Erek and he wasn't trying to strip her down of her negative traits and take advantage of her. Deep down she hated her kind yet didn’t have the willpower to become a tyrant, a rather silly mindset; even so, she wanted to be revered. She wondered if that was her pride or maybe she was trying to search for her own sense of ‘Quincy Pride’ to fall back to and be better than everyone and a feeling of belonging.

Her thoughts were snapped back to reality when he mentioned of ‘not removed them’ it took her awhile to understand what he meant as she looked about and then looked at her exposed arms with all the scars. “Oh, my battle scars I suppose,” she replied brushing her right hand along her left forearm as they walked through the hall getting near the training area. “I thought about removing them, but it might mess up the nice artwork and I look scary anyway.” she grinned cheekily at him until they finally arrived in the training room. She did a few stretches to prepare and entered one of the mats intended for hand-to-hand training with all the types of equipment and punching bag in the center.

“So, what's the drill, boss?” she emphasized the ‘boss’ in Pink Guy imitate. She wondered how much training he was going to beat into her now that she wasn't burdened with a hippo belly.
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535/268=803

Erek closed the door behind them, contemplating her calling them her “Battle scars”-- and a part of him was pleased. If she wanted them removed he couldn’t blame her, but it took a degree of understanding reality, to understand that scar’s, and looks-- none of it really mattered. To be comfortable in her skin may have seemed minor, but it was a large step in the right direction for her to learn to accept herself. He allowed it to drop, if she wished to keep them-- he wouldn’t question her, hell, he’d kept his own despite knowing he could easily regenerate them away now.

Instead, she inquired what the drill was going to be-- before he snorted in amusement at the odd way she spoke, what was that? It sounded like a mockery of something, but he had no idea-- shrugging he moved on to answer her inquiry instead.

“Step one is going to be-- no dodging, and no gintou. The point of this is to force you to use your raw power and durability, rely only on your blut, and martial skills.” As he explained this he would start tugging off his jacket and shirt, tossing them to the side as per usual as he moved forward, rolling his shoulders slowly before he would release a slight breath-- until his gaze focused on her firmly.

“I saw it before, but you have basically no real skill in unarmed combat-- you’re definitely better than a beginner, but that’s the end of it.” Moving forward he motioned for her to take off anything she may want to, before he would motion with a hand.

“Take a fighting stance-- you said you had some brief lessons in the past, so I need to see what style you were briefly trained in.” Of course, that was assuming the girl even had a fighting stance, if all she did was lift up her hands then he basically had to work her up from the ground-- which was fine, but if that’s what he was going to be doing, he’d definitely need to be more detailed in his explanations.

Perhaps starting with basic self-defense and then work their way up from there-- even if she never actually fought unarmed, it would make a significant difference if she had detailed knowledge of martial arts. It would help her mobility, as well as help her understand how to fight individuals that used unarmed combat against her. That knowledge alone could turn the tide in a battle-- it was why he’d dedicated so much of his time to martial arts, even if he preferred fighting with his blades.

For someone as frail as her, it made an even greater difference-- there was nothing wrong with the idea of honing one's weaknesses to increase one's all-round strength. This could help her increase in her raw physical power and defense as well either way.

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‘“No dodging or ginto!?” she exclaimed and stared at him like it was the end of the world. There were many things she could think on the top of her head that could be useful in hand-to-hand combat; more enchanting her fists with some magical properties in lighting it aflame or catching the enemy off guard with a few flash and bangs! She muttered in her native tongue and just watched him remove his top clothing.

Her eyebrow twitched when he mentioned the lack of her skill in using her fists and just shrugged it off, it was true she lacked that and the only way to get better is doing the training. She remembered back with her time with Jian and his help in taking in boxing stances but that was the extent of his lessons. Whatever, moving on she removed her jacket and tossed it to the side wearing a white shirt underneath it.

She got into stance; shoulders squared, fists up, and legs a bit spread as she got into a stance. “Something like this?” she shuffled and bounced on her feet as she started to warm up and did a few jabs at the air. Gaining some momentum, she spun around with a spin kick - it was a few moves she knew from watching TV and Jian teaching her. As she completed the spin, the teen balanced on one foot and awaited his observation.

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238/803=1041

"You heard me," he replied calmly, brow arched as she stared at him-- but that was the point. It made it clear just how much she relied on those things to do battle, and anyone that was truly going to try and kill her would either already know it, or realize it very quickly and minimize the chances of her managing to do so. Either way she needed something that she could fall back on-- as well as knowledge on how to deal with opponents that utilized this style of combat, of course, as she slowly slipped into a basic American Boxing stance-- he would make a slight frown.

It wasn't that boxing wasn't a martial art-- it's just that it was an immensely limited one. Only being able to use punches in a fight was like having an armory and using a sniper rifle-- sure, it was a powerful weapon, and well used-- but only using it when you had dozens of other options just didn't make sense. Slowly he would tilt his head watching the kick-- it was a pretty standard roundhouse, but it was far too flashy, it was fairly clear from a martial art movie of some sort. Still, it was at least something.

"Alright-- first off, stop bouncing," he commented idly, moving forward lightly as he would examine her quietly a moment-- debating which style to start with, hard, or soft. Soft would likely be far more useful for her in the long-run, but learning soft martial arts without any basis was usually immensely difficult. "I'm going to teach you a hybrid of styles-- they're called hard styles because they focus on raw destructive force, and blocking to minimize damage. Once that's done, we'll move on to soft styles-- that you'll be using far more most likely." As he explained this, he would roll his shoulders slightly, before slowly lifting his arms up so that his elbows were in-line with his shoulders.

His hands clenched into slight fists, resting at the same height as his forehead with the width of his head separating them. Drawing back his right foot so that they were roughly a foot apart-- with his right foot half a leg span behind him.

"Mimic this," he stated simply, muay thai was as good as base as any-- and it would teach her to treat her entire body as a weapon, which could then lead into jujitsu and grappling in order to emphasize a mixture of soft and hard arts combined. "If you're right handed, do exactly as I'm doing. If you're left, reverse it."

Once she was ready, he would then release a slow breath before focusing his eyes on her own, "I'm going to attack-- I want you to focus on deflecting the blows, re-direct them to the side using the backs of your hands-- specifically the first two knuckles, the other two break easily-- and your forearms. Don't worry about your legs just yet, we'll focus on the arms for now since it's what you're most used to-- once you have the hang of basic upper body deflection we'll work on the next step, alright?" Shifting himself lower, he waited-- not wanting to attack until she was prepared.

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She rolled her eyes at his response. It seemed she had to do away with her strengths, ones she loved using in creativity, now she had to use nothing but her fists and no raw energy to give it ‘oomph’. She looked to Erek as she completed her little show-off and noticed the disappointment and sighed as he told her to stop bouncing around and did so. She wondered what she did wrong this time as this was the style Jian had taught her - a man she once looked up to. It was the only style she actually knew to emulate as, sad as it was, she could emulate.

Freyleif didn’t complain as he corrected her in another style, in fact, she watched more curiously and could feel the excitement building up from inside. Learning something new got her mind off thinking of the loss of her children - it was hard but she needed to move past emotional trauma that was raging inside her.

She mimicked his style; left foot back, clenched her hands slightly and brought them up towards her forehead slightly, and watched him for further instructions. Her stance in the more left-sided she was more comfortable in.

A breath of her own escaped her lips and started bouncing on her feet again, heartbeat drumming against her chest as her adrenaline suddenly shot up. He was like a cheetah raring and ready to go for its prey to pounce on. Eyes on fire as she locked her gaze on him.

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252/1041=1293

She mimicked him, falling back her footing and lifting her arms as instructions as she shifted, the stance was similar to his own but shifted more toward the left-- a slight nod forming from his breath before he would watch her begin to lightly bounce on her feet and shake his head as he corrected her movements once more.

"Only bounce on your toes-- and do it minimally, just enough to maintain a spring in your footwork so you can more easily move your body where it needs to go," with this, he released a slow breath, "--I'm coming," before flashing forward directly at her as his fists drew back, holding back his power-- if she was allowed to dodge, then he'd have no need to, but she was being forced to block and parry. In raw physical power, he outclassed her drastically, he didn't want to break her arms or anything-- even if she could heal her wounds with her blot.

The moment he entered range-- his fist shot outward, a right hook that, when blocked, became an elbow strike instead-- the transition so smooth it was barely noticeable to even an Experts gaze-- and that was the point. Pressuring her as much as possible, forcing her to watch his movements carefully in order to properly anticipate the movements and parry the force away. The two strikes were quickly followed up with a powerful headbutt aimed directly at her own, using his superior durability to his advantage to force her to anticipate unorthodox attacks.

He didn't intend to give her room to breath-- no matter how effective, or ineffective his attacks had been he had every intention to give chase if she fell back and continue with his powerful blows, one after the other until she needed to take a break. His eyes remained on her, narrowed and focused-- his reiatsu kept unsuppressed, because it may mean that she would be able to learn through the combat that much more efficiently by mimicking his capabilities, his stance, his blows, the way he shifted his weight, she had to watch all of it and commit as much to memory as possible while trying to fight against him at the same time.

Even if it was limited to the upper body, he knew full well how harsh the training was-- but that was the only way he knew to teach, and it was what he suspected she needed right now more than anything to keep her mind off the dark thoughts and emotions spiraling inside her.

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“Aww but I’ll lose my rhythm!” she pouted as he corrected her once again. She stopped bouncing and awaited his moves, as he came she quickly duck from his fist flying towards her out of instincts. The next swipe made her leap back still remaining instance as she landed her feet and stumbled back as he headbutted in success. Not using her spiritual senses was a bit harder and she was unable to keep up with the attacks.

She kept moving back, he was like a savage unrelenting in his attacks, and she kept swiping to the left and right to avoid being hit even if the headbutt left her a bit dizzy. Her chest heaved, already out of breath, but she didn’t give up then even if she was still recovering from trauma. His fist connected into her forearms causing her to fall back on her rear only to force herself up again and strike out back with wild swings, completely abandoning from her stance and leaping at him. Her spiritual energy kept suppressed.

“Stay back!” she roared out and swung out her fist towards his stomach, the other jabbing towards his chest, then rose her leg to kick him back. Frey would truck on through even if she didn’t block and went all out, trying to commit to his body movement just annoyed her. The dragon wasn’t going to let the puny human smack her around like a ragdoll. A growl emitted in her chest as she kept up the hooks and swings refusing to block and just tear away the meat-bag in front of her.

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268/1293=1561

"No, you'll find your rhythm," he corrected her calmly as he watched her slowly halt her bouncing, and as he charged her, he spoke-- explaining the details as his eyes focused on the young woman as she managed to duck from the fist, and fall back, obviously intending to try and counter before the headbutt cracked into her skull. He didn't stop, and with each swing, he continued to speak-- emphasizing each word with a practiced ease that spoke of how immersed in physical combat he had truly become over the year.

His fist clipped her cheek, barely avoided, another-- and another-- the barrage never halting as she desperately fell back trying to avoid the blows, her breath was already breaking. "You can't find a rhythm and stick to it, your movements are based on your opponents, constantly shifting. If you can't stay adaptive, then you'll be overwhelmed, and forced--" she screamed, releasing a barrage of brawling swings, kicks, desperately falling back on her brawling habits-- all power, no skill, the same way he had dealt with her before. His hand smoothly deflected each blow to the side, causing all of her momentum to shift awkwardly to the side opposite of the kick, slowing it considerably.

Using that same momentum his hand grasped her ankle, and knee-- and barely even using his own force he simply gave her a single yank, and would lift upward as her own force lifted her clear off the ground with his direction, and slammed her directly into the ground-- using her leg like a handle, mixing in grappling, and judo, as swiftly before she could recover he shifted her-- like a doctor operating on his patient, the floor was his lab table as he yanked her leg up, using it to shift her face down and yank, his knee pressing into the base of her spine, her leg pinned to her backside by her ankle, putting her in a position that she couldn't even throw a punch or blow back at him. He calmly finished his statement as he stared down at her.

"--To fall back into your instinctual habits, panicking, letting emotion control you, losing your head, and in doing so--" he lightly tapped his hand against the back of her neck, making it clear that if they were of equal power, right now she would be completely at his mercy. A twist of the head, applying more force to his knee to snap her spine, she'd be dead. "--Lose the fight and your life." Slowly, he hauled himself up and would remain calm as he offered her a hand and offered a slight smile.

"That is your first weakness. You lack control, Puffin. Your rage is a powerful weapon, I know that better than most-- I've survived its power-- barely, when I usually can easily overpower you in raw force, you matched me using that rage of yours. It's one thing to become angry-- it's another to let that anger control you." Whether she took the hand or not, he would straighten and lift his hands calmly, watching her calmly.

"Again. This time, use what I taught you. Get frustrated, get angry-- but don't snap. You're in charge of your own power." With that, he would clench his hands several times and wait, watching her-- waiting for her to attack this time, fully intending to show her how to guard this time now that she'd done what he had expected her too. Crushing those bad habits and showing her how pointless in a battle they were was step one-- now for two through ten.

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Adaptive. The words failed on her, there was a fire in her eyes - the anger kind as the man was the one overwhelming her. “Too fast!” she inwardly growled, he was knocking her back left and right and her wild punches lacked control - she swung and he deflected her blows. “Why can’t I hit him!?” she was continuously knocked to the side slowly her momentum and rhythm.

“I’ll get you-!” she goaded but then found her ankle caught from her kick, swung right upside down, hung for a bit, then slammed right into the ground causing her to let out a sharp wheeze and blood flying out her mouth. “Sto-!” she pleaded - though found loss of her words once more as he yanked her leg he grabbed and flipping her on her face. His knee against her spine and leg bent to the point she couldn’t squirm nor throw a punch back. Curses escaped her lips like a sailor as she laid there face planted and tears streaming down her beat red cheeks.

Just by the touch and motion of his hand on her neck her eyes clenched shut in panic. Again she allowed her emotions and instincts take over her, yet again Erek had put her in place with her sloppy concentration. She did want to learn but once again she fell into old habits that were hard to kill.

“I’m useless.” she mentally beat herself up and fell limp - at his mercy. “This always happens..yet...yet.” the tears continued to stream out due to her burning nerves, and still kept her energy suppressed. She laid there even as he loosened and moved away from her, her limbs in awkward positions looking rather silly. “I understand..” it wasn’t because she was all pumped up in training but her thoughts still on the Shinigami that had taken her babies.

“Wraith...I’m sorry.” she breathed out and choked on her words. She hated herself for not being strong enough to stop the Fate of her babies, frustrated that she laid her trust on Shigure and Murat, sadden she let the dragon take her heart and turn her into a monster because how easily she let herself be tempted.

Yet.

She needed to accept she was a monster. Her hand reached out to take his hand and picked herself up, the tears still streaming down her cheeks and eyes look completely lack of their luster. “You’re right,” she said looking at him with a weak smile. Wasting no more time, Freyleif fixed her stance once more and stepped forward ceasing her silent crying and keeping it inside and thrust a fist forward aiming towards his chest then the other fist following in suit before keeping her forearms to block his impacting attacks. The teen winced a bit as it felt like a sword stabbed her in the chest causing her to shift her feeting a bit and tripped as her ankle went out and she stumbled forward and flailed her arms as she fell sideways.

"Shhiit!" she swore in Icelandic, refusing to use spiritual aid to help her stop herself, she would just have to accept her failing and sloppy movability.

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526/1561=2087

Erek watched her lay there, crying, apologizing to Wraith-- and said nothing as he waited. He knew she was stronger than that-- and sure enough, she slowly hauled herself up using his hand as she straightened up-- her eyes were empty, but there was more strength inside her than she gave herself credit for. His hand squeezed her own gently as she slowly ceased her crying, and straightened her posture, shifting back into her combat stance-- before releasing a jab directly at his chest, followed by another-- smoothly, Erek's hands shifted, barely moving, using as little of his own force as necessary as his pointer and middle knuckles of his hands led the blows.

Using the backs of his hands to parry the force of the attacks away-- he stepped toward her firmly right as she came toward him, but right before his own counter initiated-- she fell. Calmly, his hand extended, grabbing the girl by the scruff of her shirt, lifting her like a cat as he gently set her down once more.

"Heal yourself, Puffin," he commented lightly, offering a simple smile before he would wait patiently for her to do so-- even if he was holding back, Frey was fragile without her blut. He needed to make not to hold back a bit more, being hurt in training was natural, and enhance your natural ability to evolve-- but it also could slow progress if not measured correctly. He'd have to hold back his force a bit more. Cracking his neck slightly, he stepped forward once she was done mending the impact damage from her chest-- and began once more, closing the distance between them quickly before his elbow shot out once more-- and this time, it halted before it landed.

Instead, it was shown as a feint at the last moment as his other fist moved moments before it halted, releasing a high-speed jab aimed directly at the right side of her ribs, whether it landed entirely or not, Erek wouldn't halt. The moment one blow was fired off, another came at her, jabs, elbows, each blow after the last-- aimed to send her off balance, leading her through the training room. He wasn't wasting energy, each blow was perfectly controlled, minimal, using his entire body to move and transfer his weight so that no specific muscle grew tired, switching smoothly between each blow as his footwork followed through.

He wanted to pressure her-- he wanted to make her angry, and he wanted to see how long it took for her to learn how to control that bottomless rage of hers. She had to learn to control it-- from a raging volcano to the cold, overwhelming pressure of the bottomless ocean, crushing, unrelenting, cool, controlled-- and immeasurable in force.

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The light squeeze from his hand put a tiny spark back into her, even though she was still fighting through the depression she could no longer hide. She was losing her grip of her mask and showing her true face in the light of her friends. That all smiles and cheery attitude was nothing but a clutch she hung onto just to feel somewhat better but deep down in that pit her demons screamed for release. Her tears became frequent through all the pressure weighing her down recently. Like Erek said; she had to suck it up.

Freyleif clenched her eyes shut expecting to have impacted the ground but was caught by the scruff of her shirt and held by Erek, redness spread through her cheeks in embarrassment as he set her down. Her lips moved to say something as he told her to heal though felt pointless in saying ‘I’m sorry’ when there wasn’t anything to be sorry about. Internally she was still battling these emotions that burned like a furnace each day - her mind seemed like it was slipping away slowly.

Her hands reached up to clutch her ears to block out the invisible voices trying to weigh her down and slowly bent her knees and leaned forward some gritting her teeth. Carefully she focused on the reishi to draw into her skin causing it to glow a soft blue until her veins pronounced out more with her Blot. In time her bruises would heal but it didn’t seem she was concentrating much on the technique.

Pain promoted growth.

His elbow move was met with wide eyes and she quickly moved back a few feet in back peddling. It took her a moment to realize it was a feint and she lowered her hands away from her ears to get back into stance again. She blocked this time as she followed his movements where he would strike - using mostly her forearms covering her face and hands to move away the kicks. Some jabs hitting into her ribs or right square into her nose causing her to groan out and flinch each hit. Each blow made her move back and she had to peek to make sure she didn’t get close to the wall - her counters were slow and uncoordinated in striking and her damn long hair got in the way most of the time.

Blood oozed and stream downed her nose as his jab struck once again and her veins stopped glowing and healing at its slow pace. Her facial expression twisted into frustration as he kept driving her back and she had to push forward through the training room. She turned her head to spit out some blood and stomped forward a few steps before thrusting out her left knee into his gut trying to push him back then followed with a jab with her nondominant fist.

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480/2087=2567

Erek didn't say a word as she blushed, flustered by her own weakness-- words weren't going to help her. Instead, he lifted a hand and waited, he noticed how slow the healing was-- he knew she could heal faster than that-- and yet it was clear her focus was torn. His eyes narrowed a bit, if he had too, he would force her to be pushed so far that she didn't have time to think of her failings. His words filled the air as his blows were fired off again, and again, echoing off the walls-- strong, and calm, as always.

"Focus, Freyleif! You're better than this!" Her healing was sloppy, her focus was off, her attacks were unbalanced-- if anything she was doing worse than before. His jaw locked, and as she finally came at him, blood oozing from her face he clenched both hands and watched her come at him, and finally, she made a decent attack. Her anger gripping her, her frustration honing her senses-- just as he thought it would. Her kick snapped out, the knee aiming for his stomach as his own knee shifted up-- the sound of bone cracking against bone filling the air, teaching her a valuable lesson: don't hit a knee, likely due to the pain her own attack just caused her.

Without hesitation, he stepped forward, and as her jab shot out, he closed the gap. His face catching the jab dead-on, but instead of dealing damage, it slid off. The reason being simple, and another lesson to teach her: a way to mitigate damage was to step into an attack so that the full force of the blow wasn't behind it, the technique was designed specifically for when you couldn't avoid a blow. But Erek didn't dodge attacks, he blocked, parried, or mitigated blows-- that was how he fought. Her jab that could have dealt serious damage, instead barely caused a buffering on his cheek, but more importantly-- it moved his entire body forward.

All of his weight and momentum poured into that single step forward-- and more importantly the arm that had been draw back, causing all of his body weight, and force from his step forward to translate directly into his punch. Closing the distance so that she had almost nowhere to go, inside her guard inches from her body as his fist accelerated with the increased momentum and power-- and slammed upward directly aimed at her jaw. If it hit directly, he didn't expect her to stay on her feet-- in fact that was the point. She was getting angry, she was getting frustrated.

Nothing pissed someone off more when they were made a fool of-- and that was effectively what he had just done, not only nullifying her attacks but using them to close the distance and create an opening for a powerful counter. Whether she took the direct hit or managed to mitigate it in some way, he fully expected her rage to rear its head fully-- and then, she would suffer the internal battle that he knew she needed to adjust to. She had to learn to harness her wrath and turn it into a weapon, instead of allowing it to become her ruler.

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“I’m trying!” she shot back. Not really. Her mind was overwhelmed and spilt on her failings. The voices telling her that she is a terrible person for not being there for her infants - she tried to block it out - told herself she was over this mental block of the death of her babies, but she just couldn’t shed that bit of reality. Her eyes darted to the left upon hearing the sound of infants crying. A blur crossing her eyes as her knee hit against the bone of Erek’s knee and she let out a sharp yelp.

Her jabs slid away from his parries and kept moving forward to press her back as much as that annoyed her. Her jab sliding off his cheeks just as well when she punched out, this causing her to growl and spit out blood. It was hard to keep up with his damn movements without using a shred of spiritual energy - being completely naked to a foe and being humiliated with superior skill.

She was beginning to wonder why she took this up as she sucked at martial arts. Pressing on was her only option as her nerves still burned with fiery pain and the tears leaked out once more in their stream. A bead of sweat dripped off her forehead and mixed with the blood coming out her nose and mouth - her body was way too fragile for this sort of thing and her movements were starting to slow and become disoriented.

“Shit, this is pathetic.” every attack she delivered was mitigated or deflected to the side. Another jab to her ribs caused her to flinch and cough and hack out, though she continued to push forward and throw her own punch towards him. A dusty rose glint in her eyes flashed. “Rip him to shreds!” she let out a snarl as she threw a one two punch towards him again and again and stomped forward to use her elbows to block off his blows.

“I hate being weak!” she moved forward to deliver an elbow strike towards his head and quickly put up her arms to block his next attack or use her hands to move away kicks.

Her foot gave out again and she stumbled - fell into the ground backward before pushing herself up again. Her breathing became heavy and a gasp sounded out as her old wounds reopen internally and outwardly. “Fuck this!” she lunged forward to strike out with a snap kick to his gut. If this didn’t hit, she would still push on no matter how much her body was crying in pain. This time she would use her spiritual senses to follow his movements, it was the only way to really keep up with a martial artist like Erek.

Her vision blurred and saw more of a Shinigami form with a disoriented face than the Erek attacking her. That cocky and arrogant grin upon its face from what she could make out of it just made her even more irritated. She would reach out with both hands and try to grip that head, and if caught, would ram her knee up into his smug face. She wanted the taste of revenge to that Shinigami who took her children away and make him feel every bit of torture her hands could rip off.

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555/2567=3122

"Lying to me doesn't do anything for you, neither does lying to yourself-- get a grip," his words were firm and calm as he stared her down-- knowing full well that she was distracted. The way her eyes moved, the way that haunted glow filled her eyes, it was something he knew all too well and had seen in countless soldiers eyes. Hell, during his first few years in active duty it had been his eyes. His foot slammed forward-- stepping forward as the girl yelled her despair at her weakness, and he could tell she was venting. But, gradually, her reactions were improving-- even as the pain hit her, even as the tears welled up in her eyes-- she didn't stop.

But she wasn't healing herself-- and that was going to become a mistake if she didn't start soon. She fell after her clash with him, her snarl filling the air as her arms lifted, and Erek carefully aimed each blow around her elbows-- even if it meant the blow missed instead, you never punched the elbows or the knee's directly-- certainly, he had the durability to not care-- but that wasn't the point. Some habits never died, no matter how strong you may become-- and that was one of them. Too many broken hands tended to ensure that you instinctually watched yourself when it came down to things like that-- his muscle memory and automatic reactions knew all too well it was better to completely miss then ruin your hands.

Her foot gave out-- and she fumbled to the ground, hauling herself up and gasping for breath as she lunged at him, cursing as she released a kick directly at him, and Erek guarded-- the kick slamming into his forearm, and then, he felt it-- a slight shift. Her focus blurred, and her face was contorted in rage, but she wasn't losing herself. In fact, she was moving even faster-- her power increasing, but more importantly, her movements were becoming sharper. mimicking his own flowing motions-- she was still sloppy. Still unrefined, but it was improvment, and that caused him to smirk-- just slightly.

"That's more like it," he murmured-- right as her hands tried to lock on his head, and he did exactly what he needed to-- his arms that were already near his head lifted, elbows pointed together, so that her knee smashed directly into them, and he felt his bones shake slightly-- not quite damage, but close, then, using the position her hands were now in-- over his neck, he released a flurry of jabs directly into her torso. High speed, low impact, but combined there was little doubt that it wouldn't do quite a bit of damage.

"More, Freyleif! You can still do better! Mimic me, follow me!" Each jab was accentuated by the words, until he had driven her off him, and he didn't halt, his body crouching as he took it more seriously, his power rising to match her own-- that power to turn rage into raw physical strength was one hell of an ability. Usually, she'd stand no chance against him in a battle of raw physical power, but with that ability she made him keep using more and more of his own reiatsu. He grinned, and his attacks shot out, pushing her even further.

She was beaten, bloody, damaged-- and still, she was going. How sharp could he get her movements? How far could he push her-- how far could she get copying his combat style? His leg whipped out like a tree limb, aiming to crash into her from the side and send her skidding to the side-- but it also provided her an opening, purposely. It was the same move she'd done against him earlier-- though far more refined when he had grabbed her leg and hurled her into the ground. She was mimicking him-- the question was, how efficiently was she doing so? It was a test to answer that very question.

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She wobbled back as he jabbed into her torso and coughed up more blood. Again she fell on her rear and quickly picked herself up as the next blows came from him, she would quickly move to the side. Her eyes locked onto his movements - each jab pushed away by her elbow or forearms to protect her head. It was no use, she would win this fight without her ability. She hated her power as she had no control over it when she reached her peak - even now she could feel the adrenaline heighten and spiritual energy igniting. She smacked away his punches and ducked the next, her spiritual senses locking onto his movements and she would quickly move back just as his attacks neared. She bent, crouched, and tried to spin around him then being pushed up towards the wall where she would have nowhere to go.

His leg whipped out and connected to her side causing her to skid along the side and fall once again clumsily in a roll. “Dammit...why.” she coughed out, her vision was getting blurrier and blurrier. Sweat was getting into her eyes causing her to cry out in pain as it stung. She picked herself up and put her shaky forearms back up before her face and got into the stance before coming at him again with another punch towards his face. “Just have to keep going even if I pass out..” she thought and watched his next movement while upping her senses. This time she copied his movements and counter just like he did when mitigating her attacks.

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266/3122=3388

Injured, beaten, bruised-- she was beyond her limit, and still kept coming. He could respect that-- he also knew when it was time to be done with it, and so when she charged him a final time, using his own counter against him, lashing out and shifting his movements even as he fell back to avoid it, he shifted back and lifted a hand calmly to halt her as he spoke.

"Enough, for now, Puffin," he stated in a firm, but kind voice. A gentle smile on his lips as he pointed to the ground, slowly falling to lower himself and sit with her whenever she finally did, resting his hands lightly in his lap as he examined her-- decorated in bruising, bloody lips and nose, she definitely wasn't in any state to focus properly in a battle.

"There's no rush. You're already starting to adjust-- heal your wound, and this time do it properly. Pain can be a driving force, but this isn't using pain to drive yourself-- you're punishing yourself, and I'm not going to be your tool that lets you do that." His words were firm but gentle as he intertwined his fingers, watching her-- it wasn't an accusation that he thought was off-base. She was driven by guilt, insecurity, self-loathing. Distracted by her own nightmares and pain-- seeking out damage to try and ease that guilt was a fairly natural reaction for many people.

But it wasn't an answer by any means. He watched her patiently, making it clear he had no intention of continuing until she had recovered her body fully-- and if she wanted to talk, then he would listen and respond. However he wouldn't force her to open up-- those wounds were still fresh, and even if she'd taken her first few steps to move past it all, she'd only stopped the bleeding. The wounds themselves would take far longer to heal-- and likely, the scars would always remain, that was simply part of life, and part of growing up.

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