Martial Arts Grading Quotes

The final examination came and my mother came down to watch it. She hated watching me fight. (Unlike my school friends, who took a weird pleasure in the fights--and more and more so as I got better.) But Mum had a bad habit. Instead of standing on the balcony overlooking the gymnasium where the martial arts grading and fights took place, she would lie down on the ground--among everyone else vying to get a good view. Now don’t ask me why. She will say it is because she couldn’t bear to watch me get hurt. But I could never figure out why she just couldn’t stay outside if that was her reasoning. I have, though, learned that there is never much logic to my wonderful mother, but at heart there is great love and concern, and that has always shone through with Mum. Anyway, it was the big day. I had performed all the routines and katas and it was now time for the kumite, or fighting part of the black-belt grading. The European grandmaster Sensei Enoeda had come down to adjudicate. I was both excited and terrified--again. The fight started. My opponent (a rugby ace from a nearby college), and I traded punches, blocks, and kicks, but there was no real breakthrough. Suddenly I found myself being backed into a corner, and out of instinct (or desperation), I dropped low, spun around, and caught my opponent square round the head with a spinning back fist. Down he went. Now this was not good news for me. It was bad form and showed a lack of control. On top of that, you simply weren’t meant to deck your opponent. The idea was to win with the use of semicontact strikes, delivered with speed and technique that hit but didn’t injure your opponent. So I winced, apologized, and then helped the guy up. I then looked over to Sensei Enoeda, expecting a disapproving scowl, but instead was met with a look of delight. The sort of look that a kid gives when handed an unexpected present. I guess that the fighter in him loved it, and on that note I passed and was given my black belt. I had never felt so proud as I did finally wearing that belt after having crawled my way up the rungs of yellow, green, orange, purple, brown--you name it--colored belts. I had done this on my own and the hard way; you can’t buy your way to a black belt. I remember being told by our instructor that martial arts is not about the belts, it is about the spirit; and I agree…but I still couldn’t help sleeping with my black belt on that first night. Oh, and the bullying stopped.

The village square teemed with life, swirling with vibrant colors and boisterous chatter. The entire village had gathered, celebrating the return of their ancestral spirit. Laughter and music filled the air, carrying with it an energy that made Kitsune smile. Paper lanterns of all colors floated lazily above, their delicate glow reflecting on the smiling faces below. Cherry blossoms caught in the playful breeze, their sweet, earthy scent settling over the scene. At the center, villagers danced with unbridled joy, the rhythm of the taiko drums and the melody of flutes guiding their steps. To the side, a large table groaned under the weight of a feast. Sticky rice balls, steamed dumplings, seaweed soup, sushi, and more filled the air with a mouthwatering aroma. As she approached the table, she was greeted warmly by the villagers, who offered her food, their smiles genuine and welcoming. She filled a plate and sat at a table with Goro and Sota, overlooking the celebration. The event brought back a flood of memories of a similar celebration from her childhood—a time when everything was much simpler and she could easily answer the question who are you? The memory filled her heart with a sweet sadness, a reminder of what she lost and what had carved the road to where she was now. Her gaze fell on the dancing villagers, but she wasn’t watching them. Not really. Her attention was fully embedded in her heart ache, longing for the past, for the life that was so cruelly ripped away from her. “I think... I think I might know how to answer your question,” she finally said, her voice soft and steady, barely audible over the cacophony of festivity around them. “Oh?” Goro responded, his face alight with intrigue. “I would have to tell you my story.” Kitsune’s eyes reflected the somber clouds of her past. Goro swallowed his bite of food before nodding. “Let us retire to the dojo, and you can tell me.” They retreated from the bustling square, leaving behind the chaos of the celebration. The sounds of laughter and chatter and drums carried away by distance. The dojo, with its bamboo and sturdy jungle planks, was bathed in the soft luminescence of the moonlight, the surface of its wooden architecture glistening faintly under the glow. They stepped into the silent tranquility of the building, and Kitsune made her way to the center, the smooth, cool touch of the polished wooden floor beneath her providing a sense of peace. Assuming the lotus position, she calmed herself, ready to speak of memories she hadn’t confronted in a long time. Not in any meaningful way at least. Across from her, Goro settled, his gaze intense yet patient, encouraging her with a gentle smile like he somehow already understood her story was hard to verbalize.

Chapter Five Monday. 12:50 PM. The wrestling room. Because of the assembly, classes for the rest of the day were shortened so school could still dismiss on time, which meant that my science class wasn’t going to start until one-o-clock. After I saw that it was ten ‘til, I rushed out of the assembly and headed straight for the wrestling room. It was the first day of training with my new ninja clan, and I was already behind schedule. A few months ago, during the week of the talent show, I stumbled upon a second gymnasium that wasn’t being used. It was the wrestling room. Coach Cooper, the gym teacher (same last name as me, but not related… or is he? Dun dun dunnnnnnn… no, I’m kidding. We’re not related), said that Buchanan School used to have a wrestling team, but cut it from the program because of money issues about ten years back. I asked if it was cool that I used the room for a martial arts club, and he said yeah.

So... you wish to know the prophecy?” Goro, the village elder of the tiny village, turned a shrewd gaze upon the fox girl

in her mind, her body never stopped moving, never stopped practicing. Martial arts anchored her in the storm of uncertainty, the one thing that remained constant. Hours passed in her solitary practice until Goro's voice sliced through her concentration, calling her to the feast. With a final deep breath, she straightened, shook off her thoughts, and followed the elder's voice, hoping that with time, the answers would eventually reveal themselves.

before him, assessing her with an intense stare. His scrutinizing gaze suggested he wanted to know the girl's true nature—her strengths, her weaknesses, the yin and yang coiled within. “And why,” he asked, his voice gravelly from age yet full of unyielding determination, “should I entrust you with that information?” Kitsune, the fox-girl, tilted her head, letting out a soft chuckle. “Did I not just help you retrieve your ancestral spirit?” she replied with a slight edge to her tone, impatient with the village elder's skepticism. She gestured at the floating ancestral spirit patrolling the village. It wandered around, a translucent man from the waist up, a plume of smoke from the waist down. The spirits

guarded villages from nighttime oni and yokai that tried to cause harm. Goro's stern face transformed into a frown. He turned to the pillager next to him, Sota, silently seeking the defender's opinion. The pillager had been the one to defend the village while the ancestral spirit was missing. Sota returned the look, eyes flickering back and forth between Goro and Kitsune. The judgment they exchanged felt like an invisible tug of war. Refusing to be intimidated, Kitsune stood her ground, meeting their gazes unflinchingly. Even if she did feel twitchy. At least a little. Goro gave a dismissive shrug, eyeing the girl carefully, like she might spontaneously combust. “Are you a ninja? Like that

boy, Jack?” he asked, the look on his face unreadable. Jack was the boy who’d helped restore the spirit orb which powered the ancestral spirit. “Yes,” Kitsune admitted, her expression faltering slightly. A pang of sadness washed over her at the reminder of Jack, Bruce, and Ricardo's departure. Despite her stoic exterior, she couldn't help but miss them. Together they'd adventured and fought and braved dangers, and now they were gone, just like that, leaving her in a world she still struggled to understand. As if reading her thoughts, Goro shared a pointed glance with Sota. There was a silent conversation there, an unspoken agreement. Sota nodded, and Goro turned his attention back to Kitsune. “You say you

are a ninja, but you do not make us kowtow.” He lifted an eyebrow at the girl. Kitsune sneered. “I’m not like those ninjas. People don’t need to bow and scrape simply because I'm a ninja. I’ll never be like them. Everyone deserves to live their lives, not cower in fear.” Goro looked at her again with that penetrating gaze before giving a nod and a bow from the waist. “Welcome then, Kitsune, ninja of the...” “Fox clan,” Kitsune finished. Goro frowned, then shook his head, as if ridding himself of the look of disdain, replacing it with a smile. “Of course. Welcome, Kitsune of the Fox clan. You helped Jack retrieve the spirit orb and thus have

Is there going to be dragons? We love dragons! Not sure they’ll show up in this series, but we do have a dragon series in mind…

in

You should have seen your face!” Ninko exclaimed. “You were all ‘ahhh’ *crash* ‘ahhhh!’ *crash*! Over and over again!

Advantages of the ASP I have already explained how the ASP is advantageous with regard to its compactness and ease of carry, but there are other advantages. Carrying an impact weapon gives you the ability to counter a threat with less than lethal force, which may save you a long stint in prison. The compact ASP has advantages over the 28-inch stick of the traditional Filipino martial arts. When you are chest-to-chest against an opponent, it's difficult to hit him decisively with a 26-28 inch long stick. Filipino martial artists practice raising the arm and twisting the wrist to snap the tip into an opponent's head, but these flicking strikes can't be counted on to drop an attacker. Also, because of the stick's light weight, space and distance are needed to wind up and generate power. At very close range the short, heavy stick –such as a blackjack, sap, or an 8-inch steel bar-- is a better weapon. The striking tip of the ASP is made of steel, and the middle section is high-grade aluminum. This solid construction means that the ASP hits hard. The unexpanded ASP can be used like a metal yawara (palm stick), which is devastating in close. The Knife The second weapon in Steel Baton EDC is a knife carried at the neck. The knife should be compact and relatively light so that it is comfortable enough for neck carry. Get a light beaded chain that will break away, so that you aren't strangled with your own neck lanyard. The knife should have a straight handle without loops or fingerholes, because you want to be able to access the knife with either hand in an instant, without having to thread your fingers into holes or work to secure a grip. Avoid folding knives. You want a knife that you can draw in an instant. No matter how much you practice drawing and opening your knife, or even if you get an automatic (switchblade) or assisted opener, you will always be slower getting the folding knife open and into action, particularly under stress. Keep in mind that “under stress” may mean somebody socking you in the face repeatedly. Once again, you want open carry. Open carry is almost always legal and is more easily accessible if you are under attack. You can get a neodymium magnet and put it in the gap between the seam of your shirt, in between the buttons. The magnet will attract the steel blade of your knife so that the knife will stay centered and not flop around if you're moving. My recommended knives for neck carry are the Cold Steel Super Edge and the Cold Steel Hide Out. The Super Edge is small, light, and inconspicuous. It also comes in useful as a day-to-day utility tool, opening packages, trimming threads, removing tags, and so on. Get the Rambo knife image out of your mind. You only need a small knife to deter an attacker, because nobody wants to get cut. And if your life is on the line, you can still do serious damage with a small blade.