Limits of healing (Open)

[Jacob B. Dole]

Laying against a tree to his right was his brand new 2009 Browning Illusion TC Compound Bow, having talked his parents into buying it for him after he was forced to transfer schools. Though as of yet he hadn't actually been able to test it out due to his injuries. The last several weeks made him feel like a kid the on christmas eve, wanting to get at their presents, but knowing they had to wait. It was almost agony to look at the bow sitting in the corner of his room, antagonizing him to use it. Finally he snapped, taking his holster of arrows, the bow, and grabbing the target from the back yard.

Across the clearing of the woods he hung the target between three trees. The two in front were seperated just enough with a bend so that they acted as a guide to see straight on to the target, which as back on the third tree. Taking off his Tapout hoodie he folded it and laid it next to his bow, then proceeded to take off his T-shirt, laying it ontop of his hoodie. Now the bandages were ever so apparant as they caught the attention of people walking down the main path behind him. Having not bothered to find a isolated clearing he just went out of the way to make sure that he wasn't shooting into any trails, and proceeded from there.

Raising his arms up he jestered to the idea that he was holding the bow, forming a triangle with his arms while his feet went into the oblique stance - his front foot(left) was out of line by about an inch from his back foot, his foot turned over so that the formed a 45 degree angle between him and the target. It was a hard stance to hold, but it was the only one he had really practiced since he first started shooting, and given his physique it was now much easier and more natural. As he raised his arms up he felt his Lats pushing against the bandages, stretching them out and constricting his ribs at the same time. He wheezed, the air being pushed from his lungs before he dropped his arms.

Walking back over to the side of the clearing he unhooked the clips holding the wrapping in place and began to counter-roll the bandage into a roll, releaving his upper torso of it's tight restraint. Immediately he felt better, but hadn't tried to take a deep breath yet. He counted back from three in his head, and once he reached one he pushed his chest out, tossing up his arms and inhaled as though he was tasting fresh air for the first time. Well, that wasn't a good idea as he soon found out. The pain in his muscles and ribs were still there, and he coughed out all that he exhaled. But he lowered his arms and continued his slow breathing until the pain had dispursed.

Adamant to try and actually fire his new toy he slipped on his two arms guards so that his left forearm was completely covered. Because of his long arms he had to buy two arm guards to protect from the force of the string. Picking up his bow and arrows he walked back to his previous testing spot, looking at the target placed roughly thirty feet away. A short distance, but it's not like he was training for a compitition, he just wanted to see what he could do. Taking the first arrow he nocked it, having already assumed his stance, then raised the bow while drawing it back and aiming. He used a side anchor point, which was used for getting a quick position established. Already he was felling the force of the bow pulling at his ribs with the string drawn back, but he had come this far, all there was left to do was fire. Taking another breath he exhale and released the arrow. It flew through the air and peirced the third ring from the center, exactly north of it. The power of this bow was so much stronger then his last, and given the short range and power it was extremely accurate at such a short distance.

However, despite his happiness towards his new toy his ribs were aching and his back was sore from having to held it pulled back for just a few seconds. Normally, this is where most people would quit, saying that they needed to take a few more days, possibly a week off so that they didn't strain anything. Jacobs thought on the matter was to do something until it didn't hurt anymore. Until his body released enough endorphines he'd keep amusing himself with his Browning Illusion TC.

Nocking another arrow he raised it up, quicking drawning it back and firing: acting almost as though he was a gun slinger from the old west. His aim wasn't that bad, and this method did prove to hurt a good deal less. His second shot was a bit wide to his left, but struck firmly within the third ring. Dropping his shoulders he took a moment to collect his breath, hearing people all around him as they went about their stroll through the woods.

[jayded]

Jacobe had just settled down into a small clearing in the trees of the forest, finally finished brusing out the twigs in the area with his feet. He had already moved his bag out of the way and was now sitting in a medative state, on his knees with his feet tucked under his body, his hands in his lap and his breathing slowing down, becoming centerd and moving his focus point into his core for maximum strength and control of his pride and joy seigetsu, his katana

He bowed once to the ground and then placed seigetsu, still in her sheath, on his lap, resting it there, and proceded with a ritual taught in his old dojo called "Syncing with your external soul", the term comming from the times when the samurai used to believe that there soul was within there blades. Syncing began by thinking back to when you first recived your blade.

"Congratulations Jacobe, you have passed the second dan" Shihan Akabane smiled at Jacobe, collapsed down to one knee with blood streaming out of a cut down the side of his head, his nose broken then re broken and his jaw swollen to twice its normal size, the blood grading was brutal. It consisted of first a warm up, then a demonstration of all the forms plus your orignal contribution, then, an hour of bare nuckle fighting against various opponents above your rank, it was a brutal test designed by Kyoshi Jones to see who had the balls to be a true representative of the organization, although in many cases instructors would often sweep the blood grading under the rug, and acknowledge someone as a second dan when they hadn't earned it. But not here, not in his gym.
"Your sword is the externalization of your soul, as you achive balance with it, you will reach balance within yourself," Shihan started unwrapping the cloth around the sheathed blade, he flicked the hit with his thumb, so the top of the blade was unsheathed. " You may only fully draw the blade if you intend to draw blood with it. If you draw it, without the intention to cut..." Shian turned rolled up one of his sleeves, showing a mirriad of scars, "draw your own"
SNAP
THUD
Jacobe snapped out his day dream and rolled backwards quickly drawing his blade in the same motion. There was another snapping sound, and an arrow flew past his glen into a target near by. Jacobe sighed, false alarm, and ran his palm down the edge of his blade, drawing blood. Jacobe watched the blood trickle down the blade for a second, the blood channel catching the trickle of blood and taking it to the tip of the blade, where a single drop fell to the ground.
"heh, first blood in America" Jacobe thought as he swung the sword up then down to flick the blood off before sheathing the blade. He walked over to his bag and unrolled a sperate silk sheath, making the blade look inconspicuous so he could carry it around without suspicion. He wrapped a cord around his hand and grabbed his blade, a saftey precaution in this town and walked over towards the archer.

Aproaching the archer from his side, not to surprise him, and not to get shiskabobbed by an arrow, he called out
"Hey, nice shot, just next time, have a look around, a meter to your left i wouldn't be walking" Jacobe reached into his pocket and pulled out a smoke putting it to his lips, beofre reaching in to get his new lighter, and lighting up.
"wana smoke mate?"

[Jacob B. Dole]

'A meter in any direction and I wouldn't be much of an archer.'

Taking anoher arrow from it's sheath he put it under the nock and lifted his Browning Compound up to eye level, drawing back the string before he let out just before he reached a maximum pull. A sharp inhale in his chest caused him a great deal of pain, his body hunching over as he clenched his right arm against his ribs, trying to hold them in position. Gently laying his bow down away from the other man he stood back up to his full height, ignoring the burning sensation on the right side of his frame.

"Sorry man, didn't see anyone in the clearing when I set up."

Heading back to his gear he bent over and picked up the wrappings for his chest, unrolling the end he slung it over his left shoulder, holding the end in position in front of his chest before reaching around behind his back and grabbing the rest of the roll. Directing the bandage around his ribs he wrapped it over the suspended end, keeping it in position before using both hands to finish off the wrap and turning back towards the smoker. Shrugging he shook off the offer for a smoke, rather disgusted at the habbit.

"No thanks."

He walked past the smoker, grabbing his arrows carrying case and headed over to his target. Prying the arrows from the targets hold he slipped them tip first into their case, then took his target and removed it from it's hold in the tree. He walked back toward the smoker, laying down his stuff beside his compound bow.

"Really though, Sorry bout not seeing you before."

[jayded]

Jacobe chuckled as the man infront of him quipped back at him, maybe this town wasn't a cognative dung heap after all. He stood silently as he watched him notch another arrow to his bow, watching carefully at the musscels in his arms and chest contract, trying to gage his strength from that, until suddenly he gasped and hunched over, his arm immediatly clenching the right side of his ribs. As he watched this Jacobe thought,
Broken ribs or lung problem??

Jacobe watched him pack his things up as he lit up his cigarette, inhaling deeply on his first puff as he usually did, before ashing it to the side of him, very conscientious of not marking his Gi or sheath in any way. He saw the flash of disgust in the archers eyes as he walked past him and got a slight whiff of the smoke.
"each to there own then" He muttered as he turned around to watch the youth pack, old habits of keeping his eyes on someone never dying.

[glow=red,2,300]"Really though, Sorry bout not seeing you before."[/glow] Jacobe laughed, he sounded sincere, there was no malice in his voice.
"Its okay mate" He replied, ashing his cigarette again, before putting it back to his mouth, "luckily you weren't hunting, coulda mistook me for a Kanga!" Jacobe laughed to himself, before his stopped, and realised he wasn't in Australia anymore, Kangaroos wouldn't just been found in the forest. He started laughing again quietly, but then sighed, he was still home sick. He gripped the cord wrapped around his hand then winced, he forgot he cut it, the cord had stopped most of the blood flow, and it was starting to coagulate over. He reached round his back looking for a bag he usually carried, before wincing again, he'd left it in the car.
"Hey mate, you wouldn't happen to have some water to spare, and a name?" Jacobe laughed again.

[Jacob B. Dole]

"I've never hunted before, just lots of target practice." He said with a smile, taking a few more steps and grabbing his shirt and his bows carrying case. Slipping his shirt and TapOut hoodie back on he began packing up his bow, zipping up the top of his arrows case before putting it inside the bag with his compound bow. Standing back up he slung the strap over his shoulder, looking over at the heavily accented Australian as he asked for a bottle of water.

Reaching back he patted the side pocket of his carrying case, finding it push flat being empty. He sighed a little, unable to hand over something as little as a drink. It would've been nice to give a drink to someone he nearly hit with one of his arrows.

"Don't have any water, but I'll buy you a drink later. But I can give you a name. I'm Jacob Dole." Pushing his bag back with his right elbow he held it in place as he extended his left hand for a shake.

[jayded]

Jacobe watched the youth look in his bag, losing hope to wash the cut off as the youth side.
He laughed as the youth offered a drink to him, a dangerous offer to any Australian, for once a night of drinking starts it rarely stops, and as the legal age of drinking in Australia is 18, bouncers tend to look over the age limits for people like Jacobe.
"Okay, first rounds on you then!" He hoisted the sword further up on his shoulder as the youth offered his hand. When he herd the name a small snicker escaped his mouth
"Jacob eh? Im Jacobe, nice to meet you" He shook the youths hand with a firm grip from an arms length, a habit picked up from Australians who like there own personal space, especially when there is enough to go around.

He looked around the forrest, deciding mentally that training was worth skipping for the sake of companionship. Looking at Jacob with a serious look in his eye he asks,
" Now for a serious question... where can a bloke get a decent feed around here I'm bloody famished!"

[Jacob B. Dole]

When Jacobe mentioned that the first round was to be on him he realized exactly what he said wrong to a guy with a heavy Australian accent. Just the fact that he didn't bother to mention or add a bottle of water to the end of that was in detail a lack of communication between two cultures. Didn't matter that much though.

"Well, originally I just meant a bottle of water, since I'm still under age for drinking."

He guessed that the Australian Jacobe, or A.J. as he was going to refer to him, probably thought he was older due to his height and build. Most people did, and until it came up he usually didn't go about correcting them. Made things easier in the end, led down the path of mystery. When the question of food came up he had to think long and hard about what constituted as decent around here, though he covered up his thinking with a quick joke.

"Depends on your definition of the word decent. Decent could be McBloaters, or possibly worse Billy's Wing Shop whose been shut down for rats to many times to count."

Kneeling down, as to avoid pressing in on his ribs, he pivoted his entire body over and picked up his target. Standing back up he held the target loosely by his fingertips, letting it sway back and forth as it tapped against his pant leg.

"Now, if your looking for some good food there's a burger joint on fifth. The owners a bit flamboyant, but he makes good food.

[jayded]

Jacobe laughed when Jacob mentioned the water. He forgot the legal age over here was 21, and the chances were parents over here were a little stricter on the drinking then his parents. Then again, he shuddered at the thought of drinking American beer. His thought chain was interupted by Jacob listing food places. He physically winced at the thought of any fast food store, let alone somthing called "Billy's Wing Shop", before the word rats even came out.

"Burgers aye? Sounds good, you up for a bite?" Jacobe began walking towards the forrest edge. While tying the cord from the top of his sword and loping it across his chest, so his sword was strapped across his back ninja style. He smiled confidently, he always felt so much more confident when Seigetsu was on his back. Especially, when as now, a pair of joggers who ran turned at a right angle and visably started sprinting after seeing the shape of a sword on his back.

"You comming? I can give you a lift if you need?" Jacobe called out over his shoulder to Jacob.

[Jacob B. Dole]

"I have some things to attend to, otherwise I'd love a bite to eat." He said, first thinking dramatically about using his Compound bow to take out the knee of some of the gang members at Cartford, but realized that his life was a bit less exciting then that, and truthfully what he needed to do was head over to his gym and tell the manager about his return, then continue on to the nutrition place around the corner from his gym and pick up a recipe for his mother. Ah, the boring errands one runs.

"A lift would be generous, but I should start running again, try and build back up my cardio if I'm to ever play a strong game of tennis again."

Reaching into his sweater pocket he removed a scrap of paper and a Bic Pen, writing down his cell phone number using the back of his target as a base, before he handed it A.J.

"If you wanna hang out later just give me a call. Get a bite to eat, have a spar or whatever, just call me up. Anyways, I gotta get going, Ciao."

With a wave farewell he turned towards the path leading around the clearing, seeing a far lack of people around. His stomach ached a tad bit, mostly spread down from the stretching motion in his ribs. With his Bow hung across his shoulder and the target in his hand he began to jog down the clearing, becoming a sight to see to any passerby.

[jayded]

Jacobe watched as Jacob started jogging into the distance, leaning up against a near by tree he watched the dedicated figure running down the path. He looked at the piece of paper running down the path. He reached down into a sewn pocket in his gi pants, lovingly done by his adoptive mother, so he could carry a cellphone with him at all times. He punched in the number, laughing silently to himself, why didn't Jacob just punch it straight in to his number like what was common place back home.

After he punched in the numbers, he paused, putting the phone back in his pocket, and taking another long drag from the smoke in his hand, and ashing it to the side as he usually did, leaning back against the tree, resting the sheathed katana to his side, leaning against his leg.
He stared intently at the figure jogging into the distance. In deep thought about the encounter. He seemed like a good kid, tough, been in an obvious brawl to cause the damage to his chest area. But in the end...
"Ciao???" He asked out loud... before bursting out into laughter and walking back into the trees, to resume his training.