Category Archives: Drafts

“You are not a failure.” Sakura cried pitifully as her mother placed her arm about her shoulders. She was crying because she could not fly. She tried it from a tree and had nearly broken her neck jumping from nearly the top. Luckily, as was the way of things for her, she merely had the wind knocked out of her and busted her lips and nose. She’d come running home with Inoue, bloodied and screaming as if someone had just finished trying to murder her. It certainly appeared that way, and her chest felt as if someone had stepped on it with all their weight. Inoue kept apologizing to Utada for the incident.

“But, dad can fly. You told me so!” she continued to wail. Utada sighed and pulled Sakura closer. She felt a sense of comfort if only briefly.

“One day, you will be a great warrior, just like your father. But you must practice. It will take a very long time, but you will fly just like your father. Because you are not like anyone else, you will be strong.” Sakura turned her head toward her mother, the woman’s gentle touch at her chin tipping her head back so she could see into her eyes. Inwardly, she knew that she also wanted to be as beautiful as her mother. “Your name will bring fear to your enemies.”

“Do you mean it?” she asked breathlessly, her words separated by quiet sniffles. She saw something within her mother’s gaze, her tears began to dry up.

“They will call you a god.” Utada smiled as she said the words, she was so matter of fact. Her words were as gentle as a cool breeze in summer. The kind you longed for to give respite from the burning irritation of the sun.

“Will you teach me mom?”

Sakura’s dream world faded from view, but the words were leaving her lips as she woke from her almost forgotten memory so many years ago. ‘Of course I will.’ She had only been five then. It was still dark outside as she decided to go home, Isamu was slumbering away heavily as he barely seemed to notice her slinking away from the bed. She picked up the pillow she had been lying upon and slide it into Isamu’s arms, he curled himself about the soft down filled casing. In his sleep he had no idea that it wasn’t her, it made her smile.

Sakura left his room barefoot, the clothes she originally wore forgotten. She decided not to think about them as she carefully shut his door. Padding across the floor of the apartment, she found another reason to smile. The shirt that he had given to her smelled like him. She wondered as she moved through his living room, if this is what her mother felt about her father. The thought caused her to give pause as she opened the front door of the apartment. What did her father smell like? She couldn’t remember, but she also wondered if he thought she was as beautiful as her mother. What would he say to her if they were face to face? With a shrug of her shoulders, Sakura, stepped into the building’s main corridor and turned about. She flipped the knob lock on the door and began to shut it. She was very careful, using both hands to settle the door as silently as possible within its threshold.

With a certain amount of haste, Sakura headed home. She decided she would wear Isamu’s clothes to sleep every night, and felt a certain amount of comfort in that.

Sakura felt her teeth clatter together from exhaustion and fear, unsure what to do; where to go; or what to say to whomever she encountered. She didn’t remember how she got down from the rooftop before the police arrived, but she did remember whose number she dialed from the payphone. She stood there looking at it for several minutes, unsure if she actually hear the voice.

“Hello”? The voice came across the line raggedly, like the croaking of a bull frog. She’d never actually heard a bull frog, but she imagined that his voice was a pretty close match. She couldn’t bring herself to speak. Her teeth clattered again. The voice seemed so distant, so unreal. Something more familiar touched her ear, “Moshi moshi?”Her name finally triggered a response, “Sakura?” there was concern lingering in the voice.

“Let me in.” she found her own voice to be alien, and fearing a return of that thing in her head she gently set the phone upon its hanging cradle. She pulled her arms about her waist hugging herself and walked across the street toward Isamu’s building. It sat atop a slight hill with steps leading up to the plateau upon which the hill leveled out too. She took the steps slowly, remembering how only days ago she’d taken them two at a time racing Isamu to the door. The building itself was beige brick that gave the building an exceptionally flat face, even the windows appeared to be unable to extend beyond the bricks themselves. The glass of the windows were reflective with a golden hue, when the sun shone on them the apartment complex appeared to be an extremely expensive dwelling. By her standards it was not.

Isamu took the stairwell leading to the front door of the apartment building two and three at a time, bounding down them as he rushed to the outside world. He felt something was wrong in the pit of his stomach, and his heart raced within his chest. The result was a pounding in his head that coincided with his pulse. He came to the door and pulled it open the locking mechanism falling back into place and echoing through the small chamber that surrounded the entrance, in the dead of night it sounded like someone was slamming a mallet.

He stepped outside,looking ahead and then to his right, there was no Sakura. “Sakura san?” he turned his head to the left and she righted herself from the building, he wiped at his eyes again. He looked at her clothes and mentally kicked himself at the thought going through his head. “Are you okay?” she looked as if she had been crying.

“Let me in.” she turned her head down and sniffed before walking toward the door, or more correctly, she walked toward him.

He was at a loss for words and decided to do what every woman would expect, he wrapped his arms around her. Barely touching her, she leaned into him and he felt warm liquid begin to make an uncomfortable trail down his chest; he wished he had remembered to wear a shirt. Feeling even more guilty, he turned his body, hoping she didn’t feel his really unwanted erection.

“Let’s go upstairs Sakura.” she rubbed her face against his skin and smeared her tears against his chest. He stepped back slightly and kept his arm around her shoulder, she leaned against him. It was the first time she invited him to touch her, and the first time he made the attempt.

“I’m sorry.” he didn’t say anything in response, only offered her a quiet rush of air from his teeth. He hoped it sounded soothing rather than abrasive and commanding.

“Shhh. Shh. Shh.” he shut the door of the apartment carefully and tip toed across the floor with Sakura, she had taken off her shoes and he quickly scooped them up so his mother or father wouldn’t see them. As they moved across the living room and then into his room, he realized for once how smooth her legs were if not a little bruised. Her skirt was several inches off her knee and the material lent shape to her figure. “Don’t let her feel it..don’t let her feel it.” he panicked in airy words no one else was meant to hear.

He fetched clothes from his dresser, laying his favorite t-shirt and a pair of sweat pants out for her. The shirt was white with the word ‘Ph34r’ on the front in black. The pants were flat grey, and much too large for her. “What if your parents wake up?”

“Well change here, I’ll just sit facing the door okay?” he was already shutting the bedroom door and sliding to the floor to sit.

“You–” she changed her mind. As she looked at him, she wondered if he’d closed his eyes and then began getting undressed. She folded her clothing, or what was left of it on the bed and felt another overwhelming urge to cry because her panties were still laying on someone’s floor that she didn’t even know that well. Everyone would see them. She never felt so naked than at that moment as she pulled the string of his sweats as tight as she could and then rolled the waist band several times. She never realized how much bigger than her he really was. She let the shirt drape over her upper body and whispered across the room, “I’m done.”

He got up and turned around slowly, as if he was scared she’d be standing there stark naked. She imagined that he actually let his shoulder relax slightly in relief. “You need to lay down here, –” he walked over and pulled his sheets down for her. “get under there and sleep. I need to get a blanket from the closet outside.”

She frowned for a second, still trying to get herself under control. “Why?”

He stood up and looked down at her with a furrowed brow, “To lay on the floor.”

“Lay with me!” she hissed as her hand extended and her fingers about his wrist with unbridled strength, she loosened her hold as she saw him nearly wince. “I’m sorry…please…lay with me. I want you to lay with me…please?”
“Okay. Okay.” he nodded slowly and climbed across the mattress to lay next to her. As he slipped beneath the covers, she turned over and found that place that every woman seemed to seek innately. Her head came to rest in the crook of his shoulder and with her hands pulled inward to her chest she laid her hands against him and closed her eyes. He felt fresh tears touch his skin and she slid one leg between his.

She felt safe, and thought of her father for a moment. She imagined she was talking to him and the words came without thought, “I’m not what you think Isamu chan.” a brief silence came as Isamu slid his head back a bit. “I’m nothing like what you think.” he figured she was already dreaming. “I’m. Not.” her touch lightened as the tension began to run from her body and she relaxed within is protective shell of arms and sheets. “Good for you.”

He watched her for several minutes before turning toward his nightstand. He tried not to move too much and left his arm beneath her head, she was so light! “Sakura?” she did not answer. “Sakura.” he whispered it more firmly as he picked up his cell phone, she did not answer or stir. He dialed her apartment number.

“Moshi moshi, Sakura chan?” came the voice across the line, it was Inoue Kimiko.

“This is Isamu–”

“Where is Sayou chan?” Inoue sounded instantly concerned.

He tried not to raise his voice too much, “She’s fine. I think something happened to her and she’s embarassed to come home. But she’s –”

“She should be home, her mother will be most displeased.” the tone became stern, but there was an underlining concern still there.

“She’s fine Inoue san. I promise, but she is sleeping. I do not think we should wake her.” Sakura stirred as he spoke and he lowered his voice a bit. “I will bring her home first thing in the morning. I promise. I am at home. Just across the street.”

“First thing in the morning Isamu….first thing.” she repeated as if the first time wasn’t enough.

“Yes. Inoue san.”

The line went empty, he set his phone down and curled around Sakura once again and smelled her hair, a combination of smoke and some perfume that smelled of plums or something. He kissed the top of her head and closed his eyes. Sleep did not come easily.

This was orginally written 11NOV2005. I have moved the date so it falls semi-chronologically into place with the events as placed in the drafts section.

“I’m drunk…” Sakura called out into the darkness after Tim, who was leading her inside. They were escaping the unbelievably loud music belonging to the party below. She swayed and lost her grip on his wrist, her fingers sliding away as she stumbled through the doorway. She swiped a hand behind her to catch and close the door. She missed it completely and sent herself floundering across the room. Her willowy frame came to a halt upon the double bed, its mattress shaking a bit with an annoying creak as she settled. She giggled as the door only vaguely registered as having shut. An amber street lamp just barely made it through the leaves and branches of a tree outside the single window covered in venetian blinds providing a faint glow.

“Well I know that, but we’ll have a little fun right?” Timothy Rahn, said, his voice was soothing as he crossed through the darkness to stand at the foot of the bed. She groaned affirmation to him as he stepped between her legs and looked down at her, their eyes beginning to acclimate to the non-existent lighting. Willingly, her legs parted and her arms outstretched her fingers taking hold of his belt. She pulled herself up to sit unsteadily. Looking up at him she slid her hands beneath his shirt, tracing his flat abdomen until she felt his lower ribs. He was a baseball player for the high school she’d just started attending. He was one of the popular guys tall and strong, winning smile, a senior. She tipped her head and let her pouted lips brush against his skin. Her canted eyes peered upward as he cast his gorgeous bright white smile down at her, she could nearly make out the short brown hair he kept during the season and the chiseled nature of his nose and chin. A low purr escaped her throat.

“You’re cute!” came her exclamation.

“Ha! Yeah I bet you say that to all the guys, you gonna do it or was that all talk?” he faintly slid his right hand across her cheek and she kissed it, the other hand began pulling the elastic band from her up swept hair. She’d pulled it into a folded ponytail to keep it from her face. “Can I pull it?”

“Whatever you want….” her voice trailed off as she focused on her finer motor skills, attempting to unbuckle his belt. The freeing sound of metal tapping together and the whir of his zipper coming down caused her to lick her lips. She tasted her mother’s lipstick before once more sliding her hands beneath his shirt. She exhaled across the tip of his dick, and without warning giggled.

“What?” suspicion had crept into his voice. “What’s funny?”

“No-” she frowned slightly as she realized he’d twisted his hand into her hair, her head came forward as he gave it a tug. “-thing. Too hard, don’t pull it out of my head!” she ignored the tension that swirled in the pit of her stomach and slowly crawled along her spine.

“Sorry about that.” he was smirking, she could hear it in his voice as her lips parted and the tip of her tongue circled around the head of his cock. His fingers tightened in her hair instantly, and just like all the movies she’d seen she worked her mouth further down his shaft. She couldn’t help but to look, her tongue tracing the vascular flesh of him. He throbbed in her mouth as her hands took hold of his hips and held him in place. She flicked her tongue aimlessly, mimicking what made the porn stars groan and look pleased.

I want to fuck him. She leaned back suddenly, no longer able to ignore the sinister presence that had spread across her brain. The voice that echoed in her skull was her own, but it wasn’t her own thought. Tim gave her hair a yank and she spat the words in her head instantly. “I want to fuck you.” She imagined the look on her face was one of horror.

“Okay..can’t you finish this first though?” he withdrew his hand from her hair all the same and looked down at his glistening cock. His voice took on a more pleasant tone. “I won’t cum in your mouth if that’s what you’re worried about, come on.” he was almost begging.

“No, I want you to fuck me.” Her voice someone else’s words. She thought she was going insane. You’re not going insane.

“I don’t have a condom.”

“So.” Good, we’ll have fun tonight. She felt the spidery tendrils of some….thing creep through her mind and into her limbs. She didn’t fight it, there was something right about the way it felt, but something was alien all at once. She couldn’t really be thinking these things could she? It couldn’t be her. No, I am you. I’m just awake now. We want to do it, you want to do it don’t you? “Come on, come on.” The mental schism was slowly falling away.

She picked her feet up and set them on the edge of the bed, arms again reaching to him, he was trying to look serious and failing she could read the excitement across his face. “Okay, let’s go then.” he slid over her, kicking his jeans off and letting them pile upon the floor. His touch was soft as his hand worked her sleeveless shirt up along her chest and pushed the b-cups of her bra over her breasts, she felt her heart begin to pound. She parted her lips and raised her head pressing her lips to his. Her rib cage seeming to barely expand as his tongue slipped into her mouth. He dipped his head slightly the kiss lingering on her lips as her head rocked back to the bed. Looking upon him with glazed and hazy vision she watched his face come in and out of focus, her nipples hardened as his fingers teased across them drawing goose flesh about her skin. Her vision began to darken.

“What am I doing?” she murmured airily as she felt his fingertips push her panties out of the way, his lips had already fallen upon a breast sucking at the tender nipple. She shivered, tension flowing from the pit of her stomach up her spine. She lifted her hips upward for him again giving him an invitation to go further, she slitted her eyes as his fingers teased over her skin. His touch spread her damp skin and slipped inward, she shifted slightly and bit at her lower lip. He pressed faintly against her clit, it was just right and began a growing warmth within her. A heated tremor ran her spine from the depths of her body and radiated through her skull. The voice in her head was silent, but something was lurking driving her body to do things she’d only imagined alone in her room with some unnamed guy.

“Let me get your panties off.” she felt dirty and at the same time it brought a smile to her face as she kissed him pelting his neck and face with the touch of her lips before he moved away the cotton of her panties sliding them from her hips. They disappeared in the darkness at the foot of the bed. “Ready?”

“Yeah….” her voice trailed off as he blindly pressed his cock against her. “Up..up a little…” she exhaled as he finally found it. She squirmed again taking him inside of her uncomfortably, he was going too fast. “You’re going too…ow…” he ignored her and began to ride her.

“You’re tight…shh…it feels good.” His voice was caught in vibrato as he spoke, she turned her head away for a moment. She tried to think of his smile, but panic was already gathering at the base of her brain. “So tight.” he was groaning in her ear and lapping at it like a dog.

“Get off..you’re hurting me.”

“You wanted this..be quiet!” he hissed in her ear and the lurking creature in her brain exploded outward in a surge of ichorous power that filled her every muscle. Her vision blackened entirely and returned almost instantly, everything seemed to brighten as if a light had been flipped on without warning.

“Get….off!” she shouted as her hands planted to his chest and shoved. He was airborne for a moment and thudded to the floor, speechless for several seconds as Sakura scrambled to her feet. She was surprised to see his outline nearly five feet from the bed, but her motion was unceasing.

“Holy shit..” he couldn’t finish the sentence, she passed the distance at nearly a run and twisted her body slightly gathering momentum before her hips turned into him, her foot whipping across her body and intersecting with the side of his face. He crumpled to the floor in a heap of half naked flesh, her having connected with his temple. She spat on him just as the door opened the rage in her mind flowing outward and powering her motion. She approached the door in lengthy strides, almost bounding the remaining distance. The first person crossing the threshold was met with her distorted visage, her lips curled away from small closely aligned teeth, her eyes narrowed to mere slits, and her hair tossed about her head. She recognized him, but couldn’t stop the hand that snapped toward him as he tried to recoil from her. Her grip was like steel at nearly the center of his chest. Her body stiffened and with a simple grunt picked the boy up off his feet, unbelievable strength. She hurled him nearly across the room, she didn’t hear the thud and groan issuing from him. She turned toward the door again, eyes alight with unrelenting rage.

The other managed to escape, tumbling from wall to wall away from the room. She slammed the door and turned upon her next victim the voice in her head returning. He will hurt us. He will hurt us and mother will be angry. We have to leave..do you hear that? She hissed at him and turned away, her body bunching before propelling herself through the window. For a moment she felt weightless, glass scraping her arms and face. She then found herself upon the ground, bewildered. She glanced over her shoulder at the broken window, a dull pain creeping through her right arm.

“Fuck….” a hunk of jagged glass was protruding from her bicep, blood oozing from around deep wound. She simply knocked the glass away leaving half of it behind, the voices of others brought her around and with all the might of a beast she began to run.

Her lungs ached and her head was spinning when she finally stopped, blood was trailing down her fingertips. She stood in the middle of an intersection examining her arm unaware of the vehicle blowing its horn. When she finally looked up the driver hastily turned the wheel, for a brief moment she froze looking at the whites of his eyes before the car made a loud grinding noise and hit the mailbox and light pole just across from her. The driver was obviously angry, trying to get out of his car. She didn’t wait, she took from her place gathering her body for a brief moment before leaping onto the hood of the car. The driver shouted as she took to the air again, inhuman power driving her upward. It was as if she defied gravity her foot connected with the bent light pole and she found herself atop the roof of the two story building.

“What is happening to me?” she looked back, tracing the path from the ground to her perch atop the roof. It all began to swirl and she vomited over the side. She felt the thud of her head striking the tarred rooftop before all went black.

Sakura walked the six blocks alone, letting her anger with Isamu build. Why did he have to be that way? She pondered teh reasons silently as she approached the her dojo. The sign was a wooden one with faded paint on it, it read: ‘Three Winds School’. The school’s logo was a circle of black containing three fan like shaps that narrowed near the center. They appeared to be in motion. she opened the old wooden door and stepped inside. The windows didn’t let light of any intensity spill inward, though they did provide a hazy almost non-existent amber hue which gave away flecks of dust in the air. Sakura shut the door slowly, careful not to let it slam. With the door in place, she walked the whole six feet down the hallway before it opened up into a large wooden floor covered in tatami. The room was exactly twelve tatami by eight tatami. No support beams marred the practice floor. The southern wall was lined by mirrors to allow students to self correct when practicing well known forms. The eastern wall, considered the front of the school, the shomen, was simply a wall with stained wood counted upon it. The shelf supported a juniper bonsai trained in semi-cascade to the right and a small bamboo potted in dirt upon the left. Sakura paused before entering the practice floor completely. Stepping out of her shoes, she set her bag at the left of her feet, and payed respect by bowing to the Kami Zama. It was made up of a wall scroll: ‘Furious Wind of Kyoto’, which hanged above a small box opened upon the shelf. The box contained three tiems, an arrowhead from a zen archer’s arrow. It had been pulled from the armor of the school’s founder, Suzuki Tanyu while riding down the field of battle. While getting to his feet after being thrown from his horse, the archer let loose an arrow which shattered it’s shaft upon striking the armor over his heart. The arrowhead itself had pierced his armor completely but left no scar. The next object the kissaki of Suzuki Tanyu’s katana, broken when he killed a great demon sent by his enemies. The last object, the kamon of his family, created by his own hand from the remnants of his broken katana. it was a circle of metal filled with the shape of a lotus blossom.

After a moment of bowing, putting everything else out of her mind, Sakura lifted her bag and stepped further in, she left her shoes behind as everyone was expected. There were already four students present, two whites, a black and a filipino. Sakura nodded to the filipino girl and observed the other three males. They bore uniforms from Sensei Asahara Shunmyo. They were the typical gi of a karate practitioner, as that was the style he mastered before coming to the States. Sakura often used his students for practice, a task she didn’t think they enjoyed much. The biggest of them was nearly 20, he was the black named Terrell, a very good sparring partner because of his strength and good technique. The filipino girl, Grace Alinsangan, was the smallest of them, she was 19. She was not much taller than Sakura, but was a bit more muscular. She had joined the dojo at 14 and had excellent technique. The other two, Allen and David were brothers 23 and 24. Both of them were originally from the neighborhood, so decided to remain students despite having moved across town. They were business partners of some type, Sakura had not sparred either of them.

Sakura took the stairs at the far end of the dojo down into the basement. She opened a mishappen door and stepped inside, it was a bathroom. The walls were painted maroon, making the room appear slightly darker despite the light. Sakura began to change after setting her bag atop the sink. She began with taking her hair from the slightly mussed ponytail, having worn it up all day, and draw her sweater over her head. There was a hook upon the door that no one ever used, it had probably been meant for someone to set their coat on when using the toilet she placed her sweater upon it. The camisole beneath was matching of course and it too came off and took its place along with her sweater. She was humming to herself as she jeans down her hips and pulled her feet from them. She folded the jeans neatly and set them on the back of the toilet, she then opened her bag and withdrew her black hakama and laid them atop the bag. Being vain, Sakura looked at the figure in the mirror, she even stepped back a little to look at herself coming upon the tips of her toes. She tightened her bra straps, canting her head slightly and almost giggled. She was not top heavy at all, neither was her mother both wore a B cup. She ran her hands down her sides, following the outline of her ribcage and extraordinarily narrow hips. She frowned at having so little shape, but shrugged and slide her hapi coat from the depths of her bag and unfolded it. The hapi coat was dark blue, she didn’t like white at all, and after tying the coat off, she began to unfold and place her hakama on. After wrapping the obi about her waist several times she tied it off as well and began placing her street clothes in her bag. Taking her time, she pulled her hair back up and folded the resulting ponytail in half. After tying her hair up she tucked the stray peices of hair that encased her face behind her ear, and made her way out of the bathroom.

The four students were talking as she came back up the stairs, sharing their interesting lives with one another. She looked for Sensei Asahara, but he’d not come from his office, she decided to begin the class for him. Stepping before the shomen once again, Sakura bowed to the Kami Zama and then turned upon her heels. The suck up, Grace had already begun to walk into place.

“Set!” her voice carried across the dojo loudly, despite her near soprano tone she was rather commanding. The students began scrambling from their various places to stand before her. The moved into position, arms slightly bent, hands curled into fists just below their belts. “To the kami zama!” she took a bit of inner pleasure in commanding them, they were like her sheep. The students bowed in response. Sakura saw movement from her peripheral and stepped to the side, allowing Sensei Asahara to take his rightful place.

“To me.” he was much more relaxed, a quiet man of 52. He kept a wide salt and pepper moustache. He had alert and bright eyes, Suzuki said he was directly related to servants of the throne. He had came to America some time before Suzuki. Sakura dismissed herself from the group, moving to a corner to perhaps meditate as Suzuki had taught.

The students were going to begin their calisthenics as Sakura sat upon the floor and pulled herself into lotus. Just before she closed her eyes, Grace trotted over to her calling her name. “Sakura?”

“Yes?” her response was airy.

“Sensei Asahara wants you to help me after drills, can you?” the girl, older than she, looked almost apologetic for having come over to speak. Sakura couldn’t help but feel superior in almost every way.

Sakura arches a brow in question, “Help with what?”

“Developing power.” Grace didn’t look capable of power, but Sakura agreed.

“Get me when you’re ready.” Sakura then shut her eyes and began to breathe. She tuned out the kiai of the students as they drilled away.

The moments seemed to fall away into a seamless flow of nothingness as Sakura sat, it was almost a disappointment when Grace’s voice pulled her away. Reality become real again and her voice though muddled gained focus, “Sakura? Sakura?”

She opened her eyes and took a deep breath, “Ready?” she was beginning to stand as Grace was walking away to get something.

“Yes.” she was headed for the heavy bag, hoping the impossible, to hang it from one of the beams above.

“Good.” Sakura followed after her, she cast a look toward the brothers they were watching her and Grace. “For you, power is about speed and technique. Without technique you will fail to strike properly, removing any of the strength you do have. Without speed, you will not augment your strength to do real damage. Do you understand?”

“I think so.” Grace was dragging the heavy bag to the support beam above that had been fitted with a hook.

Sakura turned her attention on Allen and Dave again and announced her desires with all the weight of how her mother addressed servants. “You, come hang the bag.” she motioned to Grace off handedly. The two came trotting over, and with a bit of grunting and some struggle they managed to hang it.

“There you go!” They wiped their hands as if they had performed some great effort.

Sakura grinned at them, “I didn’t know hanging a bag would be so difficult for such strong guys like you.” They glanced at one another and laughed before walking away. Sakura turned her attention onto Grace and motioned to the bag. “This will help you develop your power. Hit it.”

The girl threw her first punch and Sakura grimaced slightly, “What?” Grace asked.

“I said hit it, that was…well what was that? You can’t roll your shoulder, if you do you take all of your strength away. And you need to follow through with your body, turn your body into it. Like this–” Sakura inhaled and exhaled as she whipped her right hand outward, her fist struck the bag just as her arm came to the zenith of its extension. The sleeves of her hapi also snapped with the punch. Grace nodded and attempted to mimic once again.

“Like this?” she had set herself up almost perfectly, and succeeded in delivering the punch. It was straight, her shoulder didn’t rise much at all, and her fist collided with the bag squarely. Sakura nodded at her.

“Yes…exactly like that. Keep your shoulder low and do it 40 times, each hand.” Sakura placed her hand at the girl’s back in a gentle pat and then moved to walk away. She went back to her place of meditation and began to stretch, she had another few hours before Suzuki would arrive the sun was still quite a bit away from the horizon. She absently wondered if he would rise early.

“Learned some new stuff since last time. Wanna spar?” Terrell was standing before her, interrupting her inner thoughts. She regarded him for as long as it took her to blink, her expression unmoving.

“You mean you will be a challenge this time?” there was just a hint of a grin threatening to break across her lips.

“I almost had youlast time!” he looked only slightly irritated by her confidence.

She laughed, “And almost isn’t winning. Get the pads.”

The challenge came across in his voice a little more strongly than Sakura liked, “Why don’t you get the pads?” he folded his arms across his chest.

She pulled her legs beneath her and began to stand up. Something in the very back of her head made the suggestion to put him in his place. “Excuse me?” Terrell to a moment to react, he couldn’t tell if she was serious or playing around. “Well?” she arched a brow at him, tipping her head back a bit to actually look into his face. The two would have been comical to those watching, but for the seriousness of her tone.

Sensei Asahara had ceased speaking, and was looking across the dojo at them. As were the other students, Terrell felt obligated to make sure that all the other students saw that she wasn’t better than them. He’d simply had enough of her attitude over the past few months. She’d been steadily getting worse since the other sensei began giving her private lessons. “I said–” he stepped forward a bit to make sure he was heard, he also raised his voice. “why don’t you. Get. The. Pads?”

“You challenged me remember?” she fired back immediately, her left food edged forward slightly. She wasn’t going to let him intimidate her, especially in front of Sensei Asahara or these other students. Her anger began to take shape in her brain.

“Look, just because you’re on the rag doesn’t mean you can talk to me anyway you want. Quit be –” she cut his sentence off just that quickly, her right fist shot outward and buried itself in his solar plexus. Her body turned into the punch, she doubled him over with ease. She began to actually step, following the punch up with her left knee meaning to slam it home into his face; she bared her teeth with the vicious strike.

He grunted, blocking her knee with both hands, he forced her foot back to the floor before he rose. He brought a quick uppercut with him his body masked the punch as he came forward and up. Sakura reacted by trying to intercept the base of his skull with a ridge hand, failing she ended up on the floor the crack of his fist to her chin snapped her head back before she fell.

Her eyes snapped open just before hearing his voice, “Had enough?” she blinked tears from her eyes. Rewinding the sequence in her mind, she saw the fist and how she’d not moved far enough to the side. It was a mistake she wouldn’t make again. “Well? Get up or apologize, kid.”

“Bukkoroshite yaru zo!” she kicked her right leg out intersecting with Terrell’s nearest ankle, he tried to pick his foot up, but realized the error in his ways as her left foot snapped forward and took his post leg from under him. She seethed with anger as she came to her feet and became airborne, she quickly folded her body into a ball and extended a knee which she meant to drive into his chest. He was out of the way, attempting to roll to his feet just as she landed the thud of her knee to the tatami boomed throughout the dojo. Sensei Arashi simply watched, the students sounded like a chorus of owls ‘ooo’ing.

She drew breath and approached the guarded Terrell, his body hunkering down and on the defensive. She inhaled as she stepped forward left foot first and left arm drawing down and back. her right hand came up, forward, and down across her body forming a ball of motion with her hands. Her feet shuffled her forward guard down, Terrell, saw an opening and took it. His left fist came forward in a swift jab aimed for Sakura’s nose, he never connected. As her ribcage contracted and her arms gained momentum, her body bent forward and both fists shot toward Terrell’s center. As Suzuki had taught her, she held her ground and felt for the first time true power; Terrell’s body ejected itself from her touch, his body collapsing inward as she drove her fists just barely against his sternum. The power of her chi drove him back and nearly off his feet. Upon the tips of his toes, he took several rapid steps backward and fell to the floor clutching his chest and groaning.

“Have you had enough?” she walked toward him, making the best attempt she could to keep her rage in check. She felt light headed for a second, she’d never actually performed the full extent of what Suzuki had been teaching her. It was a rush and at the same time draining, her shoulders sagged slightly. Terrell tapped the tatami three times with one of his hands as she stood over him. She refrained from reprimanding him, against her better judgment.

Casting her gaze across the others watching her, she looked pointedly at Grace. The girl flicked her eyes to the floor. This is real power. She agreed with the voice in her head without thought.