Post by Gyoza on Sept 25, 2021 16:49:02 GMT -5
The end of the school semester was fast approaching. The student body was abuzz with talk of final exams, extracurriculars, and for the unlucky few, summer classes. The young herculean, however, found himself more than a little bored with the notion. He cared only about training and growing stronger so he would be ready come time for the fighting tournaments that cropped up around this time of year. Battle Island was always buzzing with competition. Even the rural regions caught the martial arts bug with local tournaments cropping up all over. It was a time of great trial, when the fruits of one's efforts were either tempered or burned up in the furnace of competition.
The seventeen-year-old strolled along the city sidewalk, weaving his way through the foot traffic. Walking home from school was always a time rife with anticipation; his training with his grandfather was always the highlight of his day. A sudden muffled scream reached his ears, coming from an alley he passed on his right. Acting on instinct, Gyoza dropped his backpack and rushed into the alleyway, heart pounding as he sought to discover the source of the distress. A group of unsavory looking individuals were crowded around a teary-eyed lady, cowering against the dusty grime of the brick wall behind her.
She clutched at her purse, begging the men off. Her tears spurred them on, predators closing in on their easy prey. Gyoza wanted to stop these muggers and rescue the woman, but he hesitated for a moment. His grandfather had strictly forbade him from fighting outside of sparring or official tournaments, but he couldn’t just stand around and watch! “Hey, back off!” He rushed forward as one of the men turned around, a switchblade held in his gloved grip. Before the thug could react, Gyoza closed the distance, crumpling him with a stiff knife hand chop to the back of the neck. The others turned, sneering and brandishing their weapons. A cocky smirk tugged at the corners of his lips as he cracked his knuckles. “Go ahead, goonies. Make my day. I could use the warm-up.”
The seventeen-year-old strolled along the city sidewalk, weaving his way through the foot traffic. Walking home from school was always a time rife with anticipation; his training with his grandfather was always the highlight of his day. A sudden muffled scream reached his ears, coming from an alley he passed on his right. Acting on instinct, Gyoza dropped his backpack and rushed into the alleyway, heart pounding as he sought to discover the source of the distress. A group of unsavory looking individuals were crowded around a teary-eyed lady, cowering against the dusty grime of the brick wall behind her.
She clutched at her purse, begging the men off. Her tears spurred them on, predators closing in on their easy prey. Gyoza wanted to stop these muggers and rescue the woman, but he hesitated for a moment. His grandfather had strictly forbade him from fighting outside of sparring or official tournaments, but he couldn’t just stand around and watch! “Hey, back off!” He rushed forward as one of the men turned around, a switchblade held in his gloved grip. Before the thug could react, Gyoza closed the distance, crumpling him with a stiff knife hand chop to the back of the neck. The others turned, sneering and brandishing their weapons. A cocky smirk tugged at the corners of his lips as he cracked his knuckles. “Go ahead, goonies. Make my day. I could use the warm-up.”
6,000 PL (Base) | No items.