From: Satoshi <lurkerdrome@megami.net> Subject: [PW!] The Art of Fighting: Toran vs. the Dojo-Yaburi Date: Thursday, July 29, 1999 7:06 PM Okay, I'm ready to do this now. I hope the...recent unpleasantness has not turned too many people off of my entrance into the PokeWars. This story isn't meant to play Toran up too much; I'm just getting in some practice with the character. Toran will begin interacting with others within a few stories, provided some interesting action takes place in Saffron City. Of course, if anyone happens to wander into the fighting Pokemon gym... ^_^ [Before I start...I caught, too late, an error in my WG. It's a small error, so I don't see any need to repost the WG again. But under Buruusu's stats, I listed 'Low Kick' where I should have listed 'Rolling Kick'.] Glossary: Dojo yaburi - dojo destroyer (The rest, you should be able to get from context...) ****** Three figures sat in silence in the center of a spacious room. Each wall of the room bore a silk hanging, each hanging bearing one of the principles of the Art, as taught by a particular school. One of the figures, a young, bishounen male, easily in his late teens, breathed deeply, exhaling through his mouth. Aside from the steady rush of air, not a muscle moved. Not even the long, fine lavender-grey hair framing his face stirred. To his right, a much shorter, oddly-shaped figure mimicked his posture, legs crossed awkwardly underneath it. Its eyes, rimmed with black circles that were more attributed to nature than to fatigue, remained open, glaring menacingly at nothing in particular. And on the young man's left, sat something small, bluish-grey, vaguely humanoid...and snoring. The young man opened one eye, and glanced to his left. He frowned. "Kuri..." he growled. Had anyone else been present in the room, they would not have believed what happened next. One second, the young man was sitting crosslegged on the floor. The next, he had traversed the distance between himself and the sleeping figure, and then some. His left leg completed a sweeping arc, and he sprang up into a crouch. The bluish figure awoke, startled, as its backside introduced itself to the wall in a most unpleasant manner. "Chop..." it moaned groggily. "Meditation, Kuri," the young man began, "is the art of contemplating the union between mind, spirit, and body, in an attempt to find martial enlightenment. It is *not*," he emphasized, "naptime." Behind him, the oddly-shaped figure snickered. "Monlee," it said derisively. The lavender-haired youth whirled, and fixed the Hitmonlee with a piercing stare. "Are you forgetting your discipline, Buruusu?" he asked. "Lee?" the Pokemon replied, seemingly taken aback. "To the training room, now," the young man said. "Practice kicks on the hanging stone. One hundred repetitions." "Monlee..." the Hitmonlee replied, dejected. It stood, and began to trudge out of the room. The ricepaper door slid open. "Toran-sensei?" one of the beginning students queried. Toran sighed. He would never consider himself worthy of the title 'sensei'...he still had much to learn himself...but the students of the dojo seemed to think he was worthy of calling teacher. "Yes, what is it?" Toran asked. "There is a challenger at the entrance. The master wants you to deal with him," the student said. "He claims to be a yaburi." Toran smirked. "That's the third one this month," he said. "Buruusu, looks like you're off the hook. Kuri, Buruusu, let's go." He pulled a small ball out of one of his pants pockets, and aimed it at the Machop which had just begun to drag itself out of the wall. A red beam of light shot out, and the Machop was drawn inside the ball. ****** Toran sized up his opponent. He was a gruff-looking, older man, with a drooping mustache and oily, free-flowing long hair. He held a black Pokeball in one hand. "You challenge this honorable dojo?" Toran asked. "I am Shang, the feared dojo yaburi," the challenger replied. "I have defeated seventeen martial arts dojos and fighting Pokemon gyms. I will now defeat this gym, and take its sign as proof." Toran rolled his eyes. Dojo destroyers were so predictable. "Very well, I accept your challenge. I assume you wish this to be a Pokemon match?" Shang grinned. "Indeed." He threw his Pokeball. "Go forth and win, Goro!" The Pokeball opened, releasing a hulking, overmuscled Machamp. The Machamp cracked its knuckles ominously, and leered at Toran. Toran gestured behind him with one hand. "Ikuze, Buruusu!" Toran's Hitmonlee stepped into view. Shang laughed. "Goro, crush this pathetic creature." "Champ," Goro rumbled. "Buruusu, focus energy!" "Monlee!" Buruusu yelled, drawing its arms back and hunching down. A battle aura flickered briefly around the Hitmonlee. "Goro, seismic toss!" The Machamp stamped forward, reaching out to grab Buruusu. The Hitmonlee blocked, catching Goro's upper arms in its hands, and using its legs to push up and away. It leapt backward, somersaulting once, before landing in a defensive stance. "Buruusu, double kick!" Buruusu charged forward, aiming a spinning roundhouse at the Machamp's abdomen. "Leelee," it yelled as its first kick connected, and it brought its other leg up, using the first leg to stabilize itself as gravity asserted itself. Both kicks were direct hits, staggering the four-armed Pokemon. "Leelee," Buruusu repeated, leaping straight up and slamming both feet into Goro's chest simultaneously. It dropped to the ground and did a handspring. "Leelee!" it called as both feet extended, striking the Machamp in the face. Performing a complex flip, the Hitmonlee angled downward, aiming its next strike at Goro's legs. "MonLEE!" The Machamp roared as its legs were knocked out from underneath it, and it dropped to the ground. "Goro! Low Kick!" Shang commanded. "Champ!" Goro used its arms to pick itself up, and drive itself in the direction of the Hitmonlee. Its legs lashed out, striking Buruusu, which was flung backward. "Monlee," Buruusu grunted as it picked itself up. "Buruusu, daijobu ka?" Toran asked. "Monlee," the Pokemon confirmed. Toran nodded. "Finish it then. Jump kick." "Monlee!" Buruusu charged, flinging itself into the air. The Machamp went on the defensive, blocking its face with its upper arms. The Hitmonlee's leg extended...and kept on extending, ramming through Goro's defense, and snapping its head back. Shang's eyes widened as his Machamp bellowed in pain, and toppled. "Champ," it groaned, before blacking out. "This cannot be," Shang said, numbly. "Your Pokemon fought well," Toran said. "I can see how you have defeated seventeen dojos. This will not be your eighteenth." Pulling an empty Pokeball out of his pocket, he recalled Buruusu. Shang nodded, smiling grimly. "I concede the match." Recalling his fainted Pokemon, he turned to leave. "I should warn you...I intend to return, someday, with stronger Pokemon. Next time, this gym will fall." With that, he left. The master walked up behind Toran, and placed a hand on his shoulder. "You did well, my pupil," he said. "Your Hitmonlee is strong." He chuckled. "Your training methods do indeed pay off, it seems." Toran grinned. "Arigatou, sensei." The master frowned thoughtfully. "Toran...you could become a great Pokemon trainer, with your skills, and your training methods. They wouldn't work for all Pokemon, of course, but..." Toran shook his head. "You know I have no interest in that, sensei. All I care about is the Art. I train Buruusu and Kuri the way I do because it helps me improve my own skills, as well as theirs." The master nodded. "Yes, I am aware of this. Still...do you not ever wish to go out and explore? There are many wonders to see in this land." Toran smiled sadly. "Travel for the sake of travel is not the way of my people. If I had not been..." His expression turned sour. "...disgruntled, I would never have left Shotaiyo. And I am content to remain here, for as long as I am welcome, and practice the Art." The master smiled. "You are always welcome here, my pupil. I am only concerned that one so young as yourself is denying himself the opportunities the world has to offer." He sighed. "Still, I respect your wishes, and I will not speak of this again." With that, he walked away to see to his other students. Toran smiled as the master wandered off. *I am honored by your concern, sensei,* he mused. Feeling the need for a workout, he rounded up a few of the intermediate students for a sparring session. TBC... -Satoshi