Obanai Breathing Style Novels & Stories

“Okay, I got it.” “Now, there are several different styles of stance, depending on where the fighting originated. We are going to begin with a more traditional Greek style of fighting. Then we will move on to a Roman style and eventually transition into others. If you are able to combine these styles successfully, you will be completely unstoppable in the face of an enemy. Okay. Mimic my stance.” Blakeney stood perpendicular to James and placed his feet slightly wider than shoulder-width apart. Taking a small step forward with his right foot, he turned his upper body, his shoulders and chest still squared to James. James positioned himself the same way.

He shows her how to do it, putting his hand over his stomach and making a point of forcing his stomach to distend so she can see where to draw the air. “You try.” He says and watches as she mimics his position of having a hand on her stomach and lifting her head slightly to take a deep breath. Both of us see her chest expand. A common mistake to take in air through your lungs and not to your stomach. Avani works with her and has her practice it several more times until she finally gets it. “There you go!” I say, watching as her stomach distends. “Do you feel the difference?” “I do!” Kenna says excitedly.

She was sure glancing at Damien every minute of the night would be her job just to make sure he stays in his place. "Get what out if your mind?" Asked Mrs Lora who stepped into the garden. "Uhm... Nothing. I was just saying a mantra to help me relax from stress and all that" Mrs Lora approached her standing beside her. "To relieve stress, I normally find a calm peaceful spot and seat there after which I performed this breathing technique. To take in as much air as you can and then you exhale. Keep doing that for good ten minutes and you will be fine. It helps alot"

He’ll follow his own instinct! For a second, he closed his eyes and let his breath out. He could feel his heart beating strongly, his muscles pulsating painfully. And yet… And yet, the world was quiet and serene. He couldn’t hear anything except his breathing. Milan was in front of him, flexing his thigh and getting ready to release another technique he couldn’t recognize. Milan’s left leg stretched forward in immense force. Ponjie with a blank mind felt the wind sailing across his lower body. He suddenly raised his right leg, folding it to use his shin and block the kick.

I remember what she says and how she moved and I do the same as I was shown. How to hold the bokken, my grip, my stance. I twirl once more, raising the bokken in the air, twirling it above my head, moving my free hand down the hilt as I bring the bokken down with a war cry. Sweat is glistening on my skin as I continue my training. “You know you are becoming more like an Onryo now.” I stop, my chest heaving and my arm heavy. I turn and look at Alina and bow to her, and she bows back as she steps closer.

The first exercise was deceptively simple—breathing. They stood in the circle courtyard as the light shifted from morning to noon, the silver sun hanging pale and thin through the mist. “Energy responds to rhythm,” Teagan explained. “You inhale the pulse of the world, exhale your fear. Every movement should follow that current.” Elise tried. She mimicked the stance—feet grounded, hands raised slightly, fingers spread. The air around her felt dense, alive, vibrating faintly. She drew in a deep breath. It hit her chest like cold fire, spreading through her veins.

Ode waited for me to eat and then change clothes. I came from the bedroom in jeans and a tank top. I carried my sword but placed it on the couch. Ode went to the center of the room and sat cross-legged on the floor. With his short arms and legs, I was surprised he made it look so simple. I sat across from him. “You must breathe deeply to gather your energy,” he said. “Close your eyes and try to see the colors. It will become easier with time.”

Buran asked. What an odd question. "I have never been in one but I have been around one if that makes sense." I replied. "It makes perfect sense. That is what we are going to try first. It is the easiest I think." Buran said. He stood nearly shoulder to shoulder with me and I felt the air around me shift. "Think of yourself as a feather, very light weighted, easy to move. Picture the wind bending to move the way you want it to." Buran whispered. I rolled my shoulders a few times, getting myself to relax a bit more. I tried to picture what the wind would look like and I was unsuccessful. I could feel a small breeze against my skin before it went away. "Take your time. Don't push too hard." Bu

Her hands were flat on the surface, very still. I looked at the projection screen. I looked at my empty notebook. I wrote a single word. Circled it. Then pressed the pen down until the circle became a dark, unreadable blur. Harlan called the group exercise twenty minutes before the end of class. "Stabilization breathing," he said, distributing slips of paper to the front row to pass back. "Used historically by bonded pairs to manage surge events, moments of elevated bond response that can become overwhelming if uncontrolled. Today you'll practice the technique with a partner." He gestured to the slips. "Pairs are assigned. Find your partner, face each other, and follow the guide sheet."

I am painfully conscious of his presence across from me—the subtle scent of pine and clean linen that clings to him, the controlled rhythm of his breathing, the weight of his attention even with eyes closed. "Focus on your breath," he continues, mercifully moving past my embarrassment. "When thoughts intrude, acknowledge them, then let them float away. Don't fight them. Don't chase them." I try again, inhaling slowly. Four counts in. Seven counts holding. Eight counts releasing. The pattern creates a gentle rhythm that gradually slows my heartbeat. With each cycle, the tension in my shoulders eases incrementally. Time shifts, stretches. I lose track of how long we sit in silence, breathing i