Track and Field

AO'S SPINDLY FORM PROVED PERFECT FOR HIS NEEDS. Mud-caked and sweat-slicked, his limbs ran lightly through the morning air. Majin had his strengths, of course, and he flaunted them amply; they manifested from him with such grandeur it seemed impossible to Ao that they could rise just from the bounds of a frame finite as the human one he occupied. Instead they surged from him almost like forces of nature, descending from some endless source above and crashing down on him with force so strong as to invoke even in the fearless mind of Ao Ryu a momentary instinct of futility. He thought of the citizens of Pompeii, of the idle civilians-turned-victims of Nagasaki and Hiroshima, of the countless unknown war victims who in their final seconds saw nothing but the cold black eye of a gun barrel and could ponder nothing but the world-imploding implications that lay between those metal walls in the infinite chasm of pressurized air. But they would not be him. He decided that the second that flitting whim of uncertainty slipped from his mind. He couldn't let this all-eclipsing force paralyze him. He had strengths of his own. And he would use that very force which restricted him--his humanity, his diminutive build--to rise and mold to the occasion. 

He laughed. "All right!"

As Majin broke inward in his blurred assault, Ao let his foot pound against the sturdy plate of his cousin's upper knee and slide off outside along the sweeping contour of his quadricep. His nimble stature and overall lightness allowed for him to easily make this minor change to his kick's trajectory, and the fact that Majin's ultra-durable limbs acted as such an effective repelling force only additionally contributed to the elegance of the motion. It fell and rooted itself just over a foot from his hip, furrowing the mud with its print.

Even before he could notice the infinitesimal workings of Majin's encroaching arm, Ao had begun to brace himself for it. Since he acted to further close the distance, he knew he had settled his intentions around a close-range attack, which almost definitely involved the use of his arms, and directed at his upper body. In anticipation for this he consolidated as he watched him blurring forwards. He began to turn his shoulder line in an almost perpendicular orientation to Majin's and steady his guard around him. As his foot landed he pivoted off of it in a clockwise fashion, straying even further away from his palm. He arrived facing his cousin from his right side, oriented almost parallel to his shoulder line. At the same time Ao reached for his cousin's arm, dangling there stagnant in the air, like the branch of some ambrosial tree inviting human hands to grasp its hanging fruit. He singled out his extended right elbow, arms lurching outward to trap it in their encircling grip while his own elbows remained poised at their respective sides of his torso. If successful, he would use it to leverage himself into a soaring straight kick with his left leg towards the side of his cousin's floating ribs. It would struggle and somehow prevail to some extent against that impenetrable wall of conditioned flesh, that gapless net of obliques, and finally rip into its bony prey. If unable to secure his grasp, though, Ao would just use his pivot to recalibrate, assuming his stance again and turning even further in that same direction so as to escape Majin's comfortable rang of sight. 

Majin's focus hones in On every one of Ao's movements. As both individuals afflicted by heavenly restriction, Majin took a personal interest in scanning the young dragon's movements. He always said that sorcerers had less room for mistakes in battle. And so every move needed the necessary purpose and intention. So in perceived fashion, when a sturdy force meets a superior force, it subtly bends to its will, his foot collides with his knee as directed, though Ao alone is responsible for his balance and posters his foot down, cementing himself. Majin smirks internally, mimicking him by enforcing more weight to his right foot in the same breath.

Ao reorients his posture a bit, aligning himself outside of Majin's strike zone. Majin doesn't even realign his head much, rather he allows his cousins to grasp his arm. In fact, he insists on this. Majin ducks his shoulder and thrusts his arm outward, pressing his elbow into Ao's own. Then it happens, A kick strikes outward next. Ao leverages his right leg for balance, offering up his left to strike Majin with a kick. His limbs were certainly long enough, and so Majin seems to let this go unchallenged, With Ao's speed, his leg traverses most of the space like a whip cracking.
"Wheeeeww~~~ he whistles out loud, That's dangerous."
On his face, beneath the brim of his hat is a wide toothy grin, nearly sharpened with excitement.
The Dragon motions his right arm down to catch this limb. Not necessarily with his hand, as hooking it under would suffice just as well. In fact, Majin was prepared to take that kick in the face it meant enforcing his will. The resulting response would have been the same. The best way to describe his behavior was, reactive. He was taking and allowing most of his cousin's movement in order to absorb and enforce his confidence. Thus, As Ao acts, Majin processes and offers up another challenge. With all of his might, he drives all of his weight forward while his young cousin was unbalanced. Doing so seems obvious to do. Majin assumed in his mind his cousin had mentally accounted for this. His left leg dashes, thrusting his entire body onward carrying them both another foot and a half backward. This would allow him to drive his elbow, arm, and shoulder into Ao's torso and then downward toward the ground. Had he been successful in hooking or grasping his lower leg or ankle, or not, he would drive the young dragon into the mud below. His forearm now digging into his chest. The impact into the ground alone would have been uncomfortable enough, but with the added pressure, it would feel like a small spike hitting his solar plexus. Majin knew he wasn't going to crush his cousin's chest in, but he knew just how much discomfort he could manage and applied as much pressure as sustainable to avoid anything but a bruise later on. It was a typical scene of two cousins playing at the park. Just at a higher level than your average family members.

"REAAAAADDDDYYYY!!!!!!!" Majin Screams out at the top of his lungs. He peers into Ao's eyes with the look of mischief.

Had things gone as mentioned, Majin would now be crouched over his cousin, Still on his feet, with his left leg hooked under his right arm in one manner or another. He would essentially be leaning downward into his cousin's chest. This is typically known as Full guard, or standing guard in mixed martial arts.
It seems as though Majin begins to apply pressure to his knees. He grasps down on Ao's shirt and pulls back slightly as if attempting to slide him along the ground. Though that depends on the actions of Ao before and prior to this event.
An Encounter between dragons was always a sight to behold. Untold potential unleashed in these tense moments. That was the ultimate goal of this exercise from the beginning. Because for all of them, there was always another layer to understanding. To uncover. Thus as spectators arrived or reawakened, the battle continue to expand.

More sorcerers came as this fight of Ryu clansmen sprung out. The Zenin family member darted his eyes toward Nagi and shot them back to the battle, not wantng to miss a moment.

A confrontation between an eldered dragon and adolescent dragon, assumably culminating in the ancienter conquering the inexperienced. An elder practice or ritual for a dragon comings to one's zenith, tromping over the shakier, hesitant hatchlings. The shadow summoner eyed in wonderment, ascending from his seat like a Nightwing's soaring, wanting to get a closer glimpse of the mythical dispute. A hurried THUD echoed; Ra advanced toward the heated fight with a mouthful of words for the one getting beaten. 

"DON'T YOU DARE GIVE UP HERE; GET UP; YOU CAN BEST HIM IF YOU PUT YOUR ALL INTO IT; I HAVE TRUST IN THAT!" Ras' feet slid against the horrid ground, nearly slipping, causing his words to pause after the 'DARE' sprouted from the gut of the young sorcerer, casting a spell of confidence mixed with the belief that this soul could persevere. Ra's drive concluded thirteen feet from the two dragons, resting his gaze on Ao Ryu.

The motions of Majin witnessed some seconds earlier by Ra constructed petrification; his hands shook at the sight of seeing a full guard set onto Ao. Ra watched this excellence, realizing that the Majin was the teacher; it couldn't be any other way. A man of his caliber would be leagues out of Ra's physical peakedness. The Zenin facial expression showed distress and anger, sorrow from watching a fellow student get beaten, and anger from how this possibly fight concluded.

━━ SO THE COUSINS WENT ON IN THEIR CARNAL DISPLAY OF AFFECTION. Their two impossibly-honed bodies continued to sprawl against each other, igniting war within the sandy confines of a circle, limbs interlocking and outstretching and unfolding between them. Ao had known Majin for most of his life, but now he realized he had yet to understand him until this moment. Watching him consumed by his art upfront, brandishing all his life's gleaming fruits, he saw something new in his cousin. Each lurching striation of muscle and twitching thread of flesh sung out to him and coalesced into a clearer sort of harmony. And they spoke out, it seemed, deliberately towards him. Though he was sure their exchange would end in at least some injury on his part, at the same time he could feel that in his confronting him so seriously and generously Majin was pulling them vitally together. And Ao couldn't hep but grin again at such a notion. He was finally getting to know him. 

━━ Ao realized that in his investment in his new match he had forgotten to put to rest the old one. In the corner of his eye he noticed Nagi's characteristic blonde shock. He offered a wistful smile and minute nod in his general direction, as if in reminiscence of their just two-minute old fight. "I'd love to take you up on that rematch, by the way, Nagi. Strong emphasis on the 'RE', of course," he jested. "And yeah, thanks for letting me work out the kinks of that sprawl. Your style was really interesting. Gave me a ton of space to experiment, which is where I thrive. I gotta say, pretty slick technique, too. I really liked how you--" The words worked their way out from his mouth like twirling cogs. His body labored simultaneously, and his eyes worked on another plane still, darting and analyzing and probing all. Carrying such a high level of intellect and neurological autonomy, this level of multitasking became a breeze. Still, he needed to focus primarily on the boulder of a force that attacked him, and was forced to stop on witnessing his throttling charge. 

━━ Ra Zenin's encouragement also visibly affected Ao. His brow furrowed into itself with a newfound focus, and he nodded again to himself and to who could only assume was his new peer. "Don't even worry about it, new guy. I'll get him, or I'll at least get close. I promise. But I definitely won't go down here."

━━ 'I guess that was sorta dumb of me to invest so much in a basic strike like that,' Ao thought. 'His durability's crazy--I should know. Normal attacks'll just chip away at him. I need something stronger; I need something that'll drive deeper to where it'll really hurt. And since I can't do that with raw power, guess I'll have to be a lot more crafty.' 

━━ Ao leapt into his cousin's embrace. As the latter surged inwards, grappling his cousin closer inwards, he did the same. He realized it was the only option, and so committed to it all he had. In accepting Ao's grasp of his elbow Majin had granted him a glint of hope, and maybe even some footing towards victory. He fastened his hands around it with all the might his wormy muscles could muster and pulled himself closer to it so his own arms bent at acute, fully-flexed angles. As his opponent hooked his arm under Ao's left foot, he again acted in the same vein, as if reflecting himself back on him. And again he used his slender build to his advantage. He wrapped around Majin like a meager sprout of vine on a hulking redwood, nothing now but quickly bursting into much more, molding to and seizing its prey entirely. Realizing he was destined for a complete upset to his balance, he abandoned it completely. Too often had he overrelied on it, or let his insistence on maintaining it paralyze him. Now, he would prevail without it altogether. He even used this sudden lack of it to his advantage, leeching instead off of his cousin's own. It almost liberated him, to shed such a common human burden and fight instead airborne. His remaining leg, its leverage established, contracted and jerked back into hyperextension to pump his body upwards at Majin. Using this and his pull on his cousin's left elbow, He brought himself even closer and higher in the air. Both legs jolted to lock themselves around Majin's lower back in a tight human gate bound by bone and sinew. They locked at the heel and ankle with enough force to virtually meld together at the skin and an instantaneous efficiency earned from years of training. With Majin already leaning over, and now suddenly bearing all of Ao's weight and enduring this abrupt yanking of his arm, it would probably pose a struggle for him to remain upright and not bring their bout to the ground. Even if he did, maintaining this posture with any sort of martial poise would prove at the least awkward and unwieldy. 

━━ Regardless of which arm Majin employed to bore into Ao's chest, the effect he endured would be minimal. He had already secured the left in his grip, tightening it at the elbow to minimize its mobility, and the right had hooked itself around his leg, so it would only be able to directly pressure his lower leg in such a way. Majin's charge certainly shook him up to some extent, but in this way he was mostly able to escape the sharp and wind-knocking damage of his crashing forearm.

━━ "READY!" Ao echoed through clenched teeth, a sound so full and far-spreading it seemed a miracle it could rise from a frame as scrawny as his. ✪

Ao does what makes the most sense at this moment. Abandoning his balance in order to brace himself for a shift. In doing so, he had eliminated most of the force generated from such a slight motion. He hyperextends his leg in order to push him and Majin slightly more into the air, which works in one sense, however, this does little more than to make the tackle that much more unbearable on impact. He attempts to latch on with both legs, however, Majin keeps a sturdy grip on Ao's left, locking it in place, the right hooks around him just before the two make an impact with the mud below. There is a strong thug as the two end up in a grounded situation. Again, this was called standing guard in MMA. Though with Ao hugging so tightly to his arm it was as awkward as a family squabble. It became easy to compensate for by widening his stance ever so slightly. From this position, Majin takes a handful of Ao's shirt and having bent his knees begins to stand upright again, Even as the young Ao grips his arm and elbow for dear life. The veins in his arms and legs begin to protrude. His back straightens, even as Ao's legs attempt to keep him wrapped. From this position, it would have been hard to feel like anything more than a small child. Majin can only smile at the boy, dangling several feet in the air, tightly bound to his elder's arm while his leg rests comfortably in Majin's grip. With all his strength he simply pushes the boy back into the air, toward the edge of their makeshift arena, giving him full liberty to reorient himself and land on his feet without falling outside the boundaries. Majin was more than physically capable enough to do this without much effort on his part. It was like tossing a medicine ball to him. Had Ao not let go, he would have just attempted once and twice more to toss him away. possibly ripping his shirt or dislocating something along the way. Staying latched on in this way would likely not end well for him. There were just too many deadly options that could come from a grapple situation like this from a physically superior specimen. Ao would likely prefer to get his space and distance back. He would likely prefer to get back on his feet, however violently that was to come.
"Had I been a curse that wouldn't have ended well for you."Majin calls out. "You'd better focus on what's happening between me and you. Next time I won't be so lenient. It's my turn to strike now, Ao san."
Though...if our strength was a little more equal that would have been a good strike. He's got good instincts but his execution needs sharpening.

Majin removes his Camo jacket and tosses it outside the boundaries of the area, his tan shirt now being in the forefront. Right away an arm full of scars bares itself from all of the students present to see. Each scar represented a different story. A moment crystallized in time. A battle where mistakes were made and victory had been attained. Truly Majin could have bombarded the Young Ao with Ground and pound strikes, pressuring him from the ground until he gave in. He could have just hoisted him up and slammed him into the ground over and over. But that was not the goal of such an exercise. So he offered him the kindness of another exchange. This time, though, Majin would take up the offense first. by this time, it was likely that Ao had been standing somewhere near the edge of the arena, give or take one or two feet of space. The sandbags were just at his heels.


Majin dashes forth once more, upright with both arms outstretched in front of him. Again, his left arm lowered with the palm facing up, his right palm facing outward. He had utilized most of his speed here, clearing the 4 or 5-foot gap between the two in a single step, his body blurring into place almost as though he had teleported or something much more outrageous. Ao would have needed the fullest of his attention to perceive this and the next actions. Suddenly Majin's left shoulder jerks violently, connoting a blow from his left arm. Visions of another palm strike were likely to surface in Ao's mind. Simultaneously, his right arm lifts ever so slightly as his fingers close tight together, like sticks bound by twine. His legs seem to remain the same as they had before, though this time his left leg leads his body, whilst his right leg maintains the rear position. From where he had now been standing, Majin was about a foot and half from Ao himself, and it was clear from his posture an attack was incoming, his body language seemed to imply this reality. Though, the young Ao would need to focus his attention. Follow the signs. and act accordingly. What was obvious was not always the immediate solution. Majin was a man known for his sleight of hand. He could confuse and hide actions within an action. This made only the most careful and insightful fighters capable of evading him, let alone perceiving him. The next time Ao found himself in a compromising position, Majin was going to give him something to remember him by. This was certain. Still, Majin was having fun playing around with his family member. It had been some time since he had been allowed to freely act, to move his body. And to watch another expand right before his eyes.

DESPITE WHAT HIS OPPONENT EXPECTED, Ao's full-body shift was such that unless he was also prepared to endure the fall, Ao saved himself from the brunt of its impact. By bringing himself so close to Majin with his arms, his upper body remained midair just below his. Further, Majin's tightening of his grip around Ao's left leg proved only a minor setback; Ao just swung his other leg around his cousin's back with its newfound springing strength and sealed them together where his left foot sat enwrapped by Majin's arm near the side of his torso. These adjustments made it so Ao fell only as much as Majin did, and without any of the jarring pain and shock of a freefall. 

Ao complied with Majin's push, which he recognized as a gesture signifying his willingness to reestablish some distance between them. He relaxed his legs and hopped back to his feet with a novel looseness to his stance, as if his whole body had just exhaled. He stood near the edge of the arena but still comfortably within, returned to his former loose stance with his weight gathered slightly forwards.

"Then show me. I didn't get this muddy just so you could just lecture me, Majin-san." He smiled, scraping sand from his scalp with his fingernails.

"I get it; you're strong. So let me see it. Please. I don't wanna wait anymore. I'm not scared of it. You can posture at it as much as you want, but I gotta feel it firsthand at some point. If you're gonna then put me in my place already, Majin-san. You know I can recover. I promise to rebound eventually from whatever you can hurl at me." His tone rang with the superficial brashness characteristic of youth but also with undertones of deep-seated reverence and awe towards his elder. And though he wouldn't admit it, he did internalize his advice on steadying his focus. Ao's eyes ceased their reckless wanderings and fastened themselves on his most direct surroundings, irises dilating. Majin's mountainous form consumed his vision and sent the wrinkled mass of his mind spiraling in anticipation. 

His requests were answered. 

At first, Ao could only frown at Majin's enigma of an advancement. He realized soon that his reaction could easily seal the outcome of their match, and that he was about to come to terms with Majin's unadulterated, globe-rippling strength. He couldn't squander this opportunity. As the painter hastily moves to capture fleeting jewels of nature, their fingers clutching the brush with vital desperation, twitching and rushing as they guide the strokes across the canvas, so did Ao rise to the task of countering his cousin's attack. He couldn't let it go to waste; to let his strikes rend unchallenged through the air would be a gesture of grave disrespect in Ao's mind. Majin operated not for the purpose of sheer destruction, he knew, but instead, almost counterintuitively, to build with his blows. Their match was intrinsically a productive exchange, and had to be realized as such as much as possible. And to do that Ao needed to strive as close as he could towards his caliber, at once working with and against him, below and above him. This inherent ambivalence in his approach to combat fueled him to fight on with creativity and physical nuance. He smelled the old dragon's exposed flesh, felt each shifting knot of muscle on his frame contracting and extending as his body worked on to consume the distance between them. He had to try. He would and he knew he would succeed either way. Ao knew the result would stagger far from perfection, of course. It would be jagged or hazy or broad or impressionistic or brazen or whimsical, just like the strokes of a plein air painting. Maybe it would scrape up to little more than a crude imitation. But it would work, and it would be something.

Watching both of Majin's arms lurching towards him in what he could only guess were the beginnings of palm strikes, Ao decided his best course of action this time was to keep some distance. He could skip the tedious process of deciphering his body language and analyzing all the niceties of these potential attacks and instead take a much simpler approach. Ao first bundled his defense, raising his fists so they brushed the tip of his nose and tucking his elbows around his ribcage, and also tucking his chin enough that he could almost feel the cold slope of his mandible between his collarbones. His eyes remained fixed upright and his forehead showed huge with the angle, blotted with sun and now shaking with rain all across its pale surface. He crouched over slightly to minimize the exposed surface area for Majin to strike, solidifying his defense. 

Next, he moved to counter Majin's defense by chipping away at the forces that fueled it. Ao's hip pivoted as his right leg skidded over the sand and locked in a trajectory straight into the lower left portion of Majin's left knee. For once, his scrawniness proved useful. The lateral edge of his shinbone strove through the tissue-thin flesh of his leg and threatened to carve deep into the flimsy realm of connective tissue that was the side of Majin’s knee. Almost physically unable to move backwards due to having just completed such a momentous forward-charge and resting so much weight on it, he would struggle to resettle it and evade. But if he did choose to endure it once again in pursuit of his own offense, this time he wouldn’t be able to carry on so unfazed. He would feel the searing pain of almost-raw bone against his defenseless flesh, cutting first through the webbed layer of skin and ligament and then bursting into his joint. Since he aimed for one of the rare areas on Majin’s body not packed to the brim with muscle, he had no chance of just shrugging the blow off naturally, like last time. And because it was also the joint which held his leg in place, by attacking it from the side he threatened to impair his mobility for the rest of their match, compromise the integrity of his balance and send the whole limb in a crooked spasm–however temporary–of lost footing. The fact that it wasn’t locked into place and bore so much of Majin’s weight increased the likelihood and severity of this outcome. And if it did occur, not only would it disorient Majin, but it would also hamper the strength of his attacks, however he ultimately chose to execute them. With no base from which to gather their power and to hold him in the proper stance (at least in that fleeting moment), they would lose crucial form and force. 

Taking after his cousin and imitating as a means of learning, Ao once again followed in Majin’s heavy-footed approach. As he executed his low kick his right fist in turn flicked from place and bit through the matrix of rain to fragment the distance between them. His right shoulder spun inwards and it veered forth on a tight, barely-extended path before the old dragon’s stomach, fulfilled and empowered by the outward projection of his spirit, one which rose so thick between them he swore he could feel it pulsating around him like some spectral exoskeleton erected by his subconscious to guard himself against Majin’s unobstructed pursuit. It caught the air with another breathy exhale from Ao. He embraced and drew from the rain-stained air always with his perennial smile, exposing teeth almost as pale as his drenched skin, and gums as pink as the veins that now throbbed all over him. 

Majin dashes forth once more, upright with both arms outstretched in front of him. Again, his left arm lowered with the palm facing up, his right palm facing outward. He had utilized most of his speed here, clearing the 4 or 5-foot gap between the two in a single step, his body blurring into place almost as though he had teleported or something much more outrageous. In response, Ao watches with the maximum of his brain capacity. His neurons firing off in order to contemplate his opponent's happenings, while choosing the most concrete course of action. Of course, it wasn't always that we chose our courses of action, rather our bodies reacted. Especially when moving at this caliber of speed. At this pace, the body began to act almost all it's own. Our instincts did what we were most conditioned to respond with.
Even jujutsu sorcerers and curses alike fell into this course of action. As embodiments of humanity in multiple different forms. You could say that in this world, they embody these mechanics in their truest form.

Ao responds in the best way his body knew how. He turtles up in what Majin can only assume was the Peek-a-boo guard. Ao first bundled his defense, raising his fists so they brushed the tip of his nose and tucking his elbows around his ribcage. The small bald-headed boy crouches over slightly to minimize the exposed surface area for Majin to strike, solidifying his defense. Yeah...textbook peek-a-boo
This course of action comes as a response to the rapid jerking of his shoulder. This motion was a subtle feint, an action used to draw out something else. In the end, no left strike ever comes. This limb remains locked in place, palm up and lowered near Majin's waist. The moment used from this motion carries itself through his body, he rotates his torso, and the rising motion of his right arm signified this transfer of energy.

Next, Ao moves to counter Majin's defense by chipping away at the forces that fueled it. Ao's hip pivoted as his right leg skidded over the sand and locked in a trajectory straight into the lower-left portion of Majin's left knee.  The lateral edge of his shinbone strove through the tissue-thin flesh of his leg and threatened to carve deep into the flimsy realm of connective tissue that was the side of Majin’s knee. Ao likely assumed that Majin was physically unable to move backward due to having just completed such a momentous forward charge and resting so much weight on it. he assumed this meant he would struggle to resettle. But who said Majin would evade?

Ao is quick to thrust a kick out, it rocketing outward with all of his might. It's as though he doesn't notice the right hand coming down upon him. Like an Axe or a halberd, It attempts to strike the upper trapezius region, close to the collection of nerves known as the transverse cervical nerves. Sure it would be possible to subtle adjust one's guard in an attempt to block. But it would have been much more challenging for one's brain to process the act of kicking, tightening a block, and then adjusting it all in the same breath. And even if he did, The power gained from the previous setup, as well as the transfer of energy would still cause considerable pain to Ao's bare knuckles. If he could block the strike to the neck, could he do so if adjusted to the top of his head? What about the side? While his smaller body hunched over so far? We would have to find out. The impact of this chop would send a fire of pain into his neck region, causing a slight burning sensation. If struck, he would likely be bruised for a week, with a deep purple mark that ran along his neck and shoulder.

Thanks to this shift in motion, Majin applies weight to his back leg in the subtlest of ways. Rather than dodging or outright avoiding the attempted knee kick, he checks it, Adjusting his lead foot in tandem with his downward chop. This alters his stance enough to cause Ao's leg to strike along Majin's shin as well. It strikes him like a whip, their solid bones colliding with a loud impact even the onlookers could hear. And yet, Majin's expression remains like a stone wall. Had he not checked it, Ao would have struck him with a unique intensity, given its speed and trajectory of it.
Majin would not leave his foot here either, adjusting himself in immediate succession.  He thrusts his foot down toward Ao's in an attempt to plant himself back into the earth. If successful he and Ao's legs would now be brushing against one another for dominance in position. Of course, this depended on the purpose of his initial strike.

Somehow amongst this all, His right shoulder spun inwards and it veered forth on a tight, barely-extended path before the old dragon’s stomach, fulfilled and empowered by the outward projection of his spirit, one which rose so thick between them he swore he could feel it pulsating around him like some spectral exoskeleton erected by his subconscious to guard himself against Majin’s unobstructed pursuit. It caught the air with another breathy exhale from Ao. He embraced and drew from the rain-stained air always with his perennial smile, exposing teeth almost as pale as his drenched skin, and gums as pink as the veins that now throbbed all over him. He looked strange. To Majin at least.

They always said that Spirit was breath. If you read religious texts anyway. And thus, There Majin stood before the boy, Right arm chopping for his neck. right leg just above the ground, his left arm tucked upward near his torso. Almost like a dance. It was chambered in place for a number of things. Defense, misdirection, offense. Any and all choices were viable. If a fist was still coming through, Ao would come into contact with Majin's forearm, locked directly in his intended path.
The noon sun beamed down upon the entire track and field, its warmth invigorating all who accepted its shine.

       

━━ AO NEVER DOUBTED HIS COUSIN'S GRACE. To do so would kill him. He knew that the instant he saw Majin's shoulders roll into their stance he would never best him on his own terms. He couldn't match his strength, nor his agility, nor his speed, nor his defense, nor his durability, nor his stamina. Yet he could follow it -- whether with his snowy serpentine limbs or with the racing cogs of his mind.

━━ He fixated on Majin's unorthodox means of addressing his low kick. Nearly defying his own balance, it climbed through the rain to check it with his own shin. The upward-lurching sinews of his cousin's quadricep presented themselves to the hunching Ao Ryu as gleaming threads of hope, rendered matte bronze in the overcast air. So once again he leapt, once again he grasped, only this time towards a different source. He moved now not in a desperate defensive or act of clinging, but instead for himself. This time Ao's slender feet fashioned themselves towards victory.  

━━ Meeting the shin of his opponent, Ao's right leg clamped immediately in towards the ground to stamp his print again in the mud. He could feel the deep-wrenching clash, that grainy white-noise pain of bone against bone. Immediately he felt the bleeding desire to bend away from it. It aimed to land so his knee rested just below Majin's, wrestling it from its place. At the same time, Ao's arms dove to catch the crook of Majin's knee just as it reached its apex. Like pale claws they moved to loop together around his hamstrings and slash through the skin. His upper arms remained tucked at his sides and his forearms jetted out like seabirds at the sight of a fish flailing at the water's surface, locked into the pursuit of their prey by some instinctual firepower which plumes throughout the blazing whole of their being. If he could secure such a grip, he would pivot counterclockwise from his rooted right foot so he faced the edge of the circle. From there, he would thrust it outward and stamp Majin's foot into the ground just outside the circle, hands straining to contort the sinewy fiber of his knee into a forced extension while his palms steadied his shin in place from above. If he could pressure Majin's leg into a temporary suspension at all, though, he would once again cleave at his balance. Considering his lean and increased forward weight from the incoming chop, Majin would at the very least struggle momentarily to regather his balance, which would leave him vulnerable and occupied with staying upright long enough for Ao to continue safely with his counter. 

━━ Instead of yielding himself completely to his cousin's attack by deliberately blocking it, Ao did his best to dampen its effect by using the flow of his own counterattack to his advantage. While Majin's intensive preparation of his chop heavily bolstered its power, it also served as a blaring warning sign that allotted Ao more than enough time to read and anticipate it. With his near-encyclopedic understanding of the human body and its martial function, he instantly recognized his cousin's right arm taking the lead and sailing out on its downwards trail. He compensated as soon as he could. As his hands plunged to wrench Majin's leg from its position, Ao's upper body followed, and he spun on his newly-planted leg away from Majin's right side. This made it so Majin struck him beyond the anticipated climax of his trajectory, when the momentum in his hand had decreased. It also meant that it instead contacted an area further back and to Ao's left than Majin had anticipated, ripping half into his trapezius muscle and half along the upper ridge of his scapula. In this way, Ao minimized his inevitable pain without wasting too much of his energy or focus on defense. He still suffered, naturally, and moved on in their match with a heavily-sore upper back, but such a sacrifice he was willing to make if it allowed him thicker chances at prevailing against his dear cousin. ✪