Track and Field

"Ohoo ~" Majin exclaims from his front-row seat. From their statuesque posture, the two would thrust into motion. Ao takes off first, as expected. His tight frame and top speed made him cut through the wind like butter. One could hardly hear his feet against the wet ground beneath him. He throws a half-hearted jab out to entice the towering Nagi, who then extends his foot to place an obstacle in the pathway forward. Nagi, attempting to out play the speedster thrusts a palm strike toward center frame, hoping to knock the wind out of the bald dragon.
Not a bad move to make but...
His thoughts are then cut by Ao's version of a sprawl. From where Majin stood, he was likely going for somewhere around the knee or ankle area. Though at this speed, it was difficult to predict everything. Only an eye capable of discerning key details could make everything out with some level of precognition and visualization. Ao had banked on his speed and more or less...fell into his attack. His only real shift was of his feinting maneuver, dropping his hands rather than actually committing to the body blow. Though, just a single leg may not have been enough. Fighting could be and often was a dirty game.
Brave to get so low like that so quickly. Anything could happen. Let's see if he can deal w the consequences. I'm sure Nagi will get a hand in there....

Of course, all The Dragon could do was watch the battle play out. His focus spiked his adrenaline. He was happy for them. Caste into the throws of combat. Majin had hoped to see some students with some potential, and in his mind, if it had been only one that would have been more than enough. but two? heh...I think we might have hit the jackpot baby."

And once more, as quickly as things had begun, So too did they come to a close. Nagi had attempted to halt Ao's sprawl but to no avail. With his hands clenched firmly to the taller boy's calf, he pushed him toward the barrier around the area, causing him to fall backward flat on his back. Ao was the winner! Majin had almost gotten excited. Almost. Yet, the conclusion of this battle did not give him the impression he thought he would have. Wow...This class we have is...I don't really know what to think anymore."
He keeps his thoughts to himself and sighs out loud. "Ao Ryu is the winner..yaaaay." He remarks with a lazy drawl. Honestly, he felt like this first day of training was a bit of a failure. Because of this fact, he felt the need to insert himself finally.
"Alright clear the way it's my turn now. Ao I'm gonna be your opponent. Somehow I can tell you always get the shit end of the stick when it comes to these things. But as a Ryu, I'm sure you can handle it.

Majin takes a step forward into the makeshift sumo ring he had created. Staring at the now muddied Ao, he lowers himself a few inches, placing his left leg to his rear, while leading with his right. His stance was flat and firm against the ground beneath them. Both his arms raised slightly. His left arm lowered, palm upward while his right extended outward just a bit, palm facing toward Ao. Both his hands were open like the claws of dragons. His posture was not unlike the Prince Vegeta from the Dragonball series. One of Majin's favorite Anime series. Was he taking the young Ao serious or was this a game to him? Despite this grandiose posture, There seemed to be no clear openings. He was firm and rooted into the ground and he gave off an air of quality, unlike anything that had ever been seen before.
By most anyway. In truth, Ao was used to Majin's intensity. As the current head of the Dragon Clan, They had crossed paths in training a handful of times before. And Ao had seen his patriarch at a distance more than once in action. Though, being at the barrel of the gun always felt different than when one was spectating. Still, Majin had faith in his young clansman. And vowed to give him a challenge he could sink his fangs into.


"Alright Ao, Whenever your are ready, COME!"

Brushing the mud from his shoulders, Ao Ryu rolled back his shoulders to face his cousin. He grinned at his cartoonish stance, but could only wonder what lay below it. Though he'd seen the armslinging Ryu clansman in action on numerous occasions, and heard scores of accounts detailing his physical prowess and hand-to-hand style of combat, he had never grasped Majin's profile as a fighter as he could so immediately with most opponents. Yet he knew that somewhere in that overwrought frame, in those muscles bundled so tight and thick he could swear the striations showed on his skin with greater intricacy than the lines of his fingerprints, there brooded something greater, something he needed to know. His straightforward set of abilities emanated a false air of simplicity, when really Ao recognized that Majin's skills probably bounded far ahead of even the greatest cursed energy users in complexity. He knew his hands, his sprawling tendons, his callused soles better than any could, and with a greater intimacy than any had with their abstract and distant manifestations of their cursed energy. And for these reasons his options only multiplied; he fought at arm's length, always in control and in the know. He fought perfectly in tune with himself, maximized and whole with his potential surging always to the surface. 

Such was the man Ao Ryu fought. And in such state, and no less, he would topple him. He would draw from him that brooding something and nourish himself with it.

As his voice coasted off he blasted forth in pursuit of his cousin. Shuffling feet escalated into a thrusting side kick to Majin's leading knee. His right leg jutted outwards to fulfill the motion, threatening to compromise his mobility and balance, while his upper body swung back in a full-body balancing act. His right arm slung over the respective side of his torso like a stubborn band of armor, stiff and unrelenting enough to deflect any incoming construct of flesh. His left steadied just below his chin, similarly prepared for whatever threat it would endure.

Majin relaxed at his cousin's childish joy. It wasn't the most exciting match, but there was something about the simplistic nature of youth that reminded Majin why he did what he did, cursed energy or not. Though, that appreciation for joy would quickly leave him.
"Oh, I can handle it for sure. You really just gotta be worried about if you can yourself. I'm so fired up right now I don't even know if you'll stand a chance, to be honest. Man, if only that loser samurai was here too. . ."

Almost without delay, the young Dragon soars, his intense speed had a sharpness most sorcerers would never reach. To most, it was as though he had suddenly melted into a blur, a blitzing phantom who motion his body with ferocity. Ao seemed in control of every one of his movements. He attempts a sort of sidekick, thrusting his right leg to meet Majin's own. This was not exactly different than his previous approach in his last bout. Majin was about 5'11. Not exactly as towering as Nagi, which gave him a somewhat more compact frame. In order to meet the young Ao, Majin presses his left leg forward dashing just a foot or so closer to Ao. With less distance for his kick to travel, a major significant portion of the angle and power from his kick would be removed In just one well-executed step. From here, he would allow the leg to collide with his bent knee, bracing himself for the discomfort of the impact. With such a flat and wide stance, it would not be enough to move him and with his knees bent just enough,  it would not have the capability of pushing his knee backward either. It would collide with it, but that was it.  Ao was swift, but his weakness was his physical strength. He could endure, but that speed came as a major cost. Thus, Majin was interested in seeing how he would respond.


With his right arm still raised in place, Majin uses his lowered left arm and thrust it outward at the same moment he presses forward. His claw-like palm was erected like a piston rotating from an upward palm to a forward-facing one all in one flawless motion. In the striking context, this was a textbook maneuver. The Dragons claw attempts to strike Ao directly in his chest with maximum force. It occurred brisk enough for the fist to align itself from a lowered position within the time it took for a man to blink, yet somehow Ao could see it. He could make it out despite such precise timing. Somehow, Ao would know that this was not Majin's speed at its highest potential. And yet... Ao's dragon instincts were likely alerting him that this attack meant bad business if it was allowed uninhibited. Though its motion implied one action, there was an innumerable degree of branching paths that could be taken within the heat of battle. Like an expanding network of roots from a tree, there contained immense variety in combat. For now, Majin's true intentions had yet to be known. Majin was unconcerned about Ao's Guard or any of his other limbs. He would continue to meet the young student as he came. He would find a way to endure any blow, and would likely accept any and all physical contact.

In a battle against a cursed spirit, they would likely come at one in the exact same manner, thus Majin assumed this would simulate the harshness of hunting cursed spirits who have a higher level of endurance or durability. In most cases, a curse could afford to take a blow or two. Us humans were not always so lucky. The atmosphere around Majin had changed. His eyes appeared glossed over, yet they never left Ao's. Majin stared deeply into him, tracking every shift in his muscles. Every bead of sweat. Every shuffle in the fibers of his clothing. Already his mind contemplated the next several courses of actions, each scenario appearing as a rapidly flickering reel of possibilities. Would Ao dodge? Would he block? Would he sprawl once more? Would he fire another kick from an alternate angle, or would he take the blow head-on and face the consequences. What should be obvious, is that Ao had the speed to avoid it. The only question that remained was...
would he?

An infuriated yelp along the dirt road echoed forth. Running the path leading to the track and field is the Zen'in named Ra Zen'in, a fashionably belated student of the Tokyo Jujutsu Tech, moving forward with all his might to reach the site, hoping to not miss out on any activities. Ra's five-eight in measurement and one-hundred-thirty pounds of poundage slightly presented more steps for him as his eyes locked onto the entrance of the track and field. The school uniform he sported and semi-shoulder lengthed hair in a ponytail dangled for dear life. After reaching his destination, he fought to control his breathing, setting both arms atop his head and walking somewhere, thinking of where other students could be.

Ras' eyes caught the sight of someone, no, something; its velocity swallowed reality, becoming non-existent from his perspective. This sight woke up Ra to the fullest, trying to observe what this could've been, thinking about what could move so fast. Another thing came in view, this one more obtainable by the eye, but looked foolish as it seemed that this person fought the air. Ra rubbed his eyes and proceeded closer, sitting down in a seat roughly thirty feet away from the brawl. He knew he shouldn't remain awake until three-o'clock in the morning, but Ra felt the need to watch the final episode, although; it was lackluster. readable ending that even the creator presumably hadn't liked the outcome either.

He let out a sigh filled with some disappointment from oversleeping. Ra tried searching for reassurance, managing both a conversation with himself and viewing, well, trying to view what's going on at this point.