Jujutsu Strolls Novels & Stories

[Yusuke] Then dont shoot then. "Yusuke" takes out his knife and started to charge at "Shinjuku". "Shinjuku" stands there and was anticipating his every move "Yusuke" was slashing at him in Vertical angles "Shinjuku" started weaving left and right then "Yusuke" try to use a basic maneuver then took his knife and slashes at "Shinjuku" Horizontally then "Shinjuku" jumps back quickly then raises his hand getting ready to release a energy wave at "Yusuke".

It was their first time here, after all, so they were naturally afraid of missing out on some of the excitement. Caroline smiled as a beautiful woman in a tight-fitting dress came up the stage. She carried an empty tray and stood beside Caroline. She waved her palm and took out a scroll which she placed on the tray. "This is a high-rank Sky-grade combat technique called Hillsplitter that is ideal for men." "A high-rank Sky-grade combat technique? This is very valuable!" Many people started discussing the technique as soon as they heard the announcement.

“Wait, little girl, how did you know I am not human?” Chu Jiu looked human in every way. In fact, if his looks were to be described, he looked like a stereotypical middle-aged martial artist leaning on the bulky side, like a neighborhood uncle teaching in a dojo. Since he had no visible weapon on his body, one would surmise he was a close combatant who probably specialized in fist, palm or finger techniques. Although he was not dressed fashionably, his clothes were neat and tidy despite being a little travel-worn. There was nothing wrong with his appearance.

Mark struggled to keep a steady stance on legs that felt like jelly while he did his best to prevent his stomach from purging its contents. “Did we just teleport?” Edwin asked as he massaged his bruised neck. “Ye have an injury on thy neck,” Agatha observed. “The stairs were icy and it was dark when we arrived,” Edwin explained. “He did a good job at protecting himself when he tumbled,” Tim said proudly. “Probably all the martial arts he does.” “Martial arts?” Agatha said with a bewildered look. “It’s a form of self-defense,” Edwin explained. “Come here,” she said as she extended her hand; seemingly disinterested in his explanation.

Picking up a stick on the floor, I gathered my hair together and tied it together to keep it out of my face. I waited for the right opening, waiting for one of them to lower their garred. Just one and the rest will follow. Listening carefully , watching them, one turned his attention away from me and there was my opening. Breaking out in a sprint towards the one who looked away they called out to him reaching for their guns but I was already in front of him hitting him with the yoko tobigeri (Side flying kick). That will keep him busy, with the force I approached him he should be down for a while in pain clutching his stomach.

The young man dared not pose in front of Allen Peterson: "if you return, it is mainly because of restraint. Song Jingwu practices half step avalanche boxing. Before you get close, it is my live target. If you remove your weapons, I am not his opponent?" Allen Peterson smiled. He didn't think so. It was obvious that the young man in front of him was practicing throwing knives.

He wouldn’t go as far as to find a dance within its motions, but he was fairly certain composing a tune to match it would prove no great challenge. Grunald walked amongst them in severe observation, nodding regardless of if his study had stumbled at the time or followed a smooth flow through the pattern. Each sluggish motion was followed by another. An upward stroke by a downward slash, a thrust with a step which eventually pulled back to a parry that would often slide into a side step slipping into a turn and a slash.

Tokyo loomed as an empire's heart, where dragons forged or fell. Dojo perched on the SatoTech campus edge, ancient timber beams scarred centuries, shoji fogged rice-mist concealing kendo clashes within. Air thick with cedar polish, sweat-salt, a faint blood-copper undercurrent. Barefoot on cool tatami, my athletic frame mirrored his lethal grace—indigo iaido hakama pooling at ankles, wooden bokken katana gripped, reverse-sheathed. Kenji circled, slow predator, jet hair slicked, ruthless, dragon tattoo peeking, collar-open gi, porcelain skin sheened with faint exertion.

Kuroyuki asked after she finishes her demonstration. …So, my tip is a total of twelve stances. “Starting from the tachi waza (立技)… that’d be Aikido (合気道), then Taekwondo (跆拳道), Wing Chun (咏春), Tai Chi (太极), Bā Guà Zhǎng (八卦掌), Xìng Yì Quán (形意拳), Muay, Boxing, Capoeira, Wrestling…”

“Yes, sir.” “Okay, sir.” The middle-aged man nodded and continued his stroll. A meter or so later, he beckoned at Zayn more obviously and continued his lecture, “Take that fella over there. This dum-dum is practicing an erratic version of the Atlasean Stance, which all but ensures that he will never, ever improve his skills. In fact, he’s going to hurt himself sometime in the future, too; trust me, kiddies, I know. So please, don’t do that, got it?”