|So months later...|
...
-Thud!-
-Thud!-
-Thud!-
"Harder!"
"That's what your mom said..."
"What did you say...?!"
"Nothing, nothing..."
"Annoying brat, it seems like now you show your true colors..."
As I punched repeatedly the log in front of with a pained and suffering face, the old man Tatsuo muttered a few things in discontent as he glanced at with squinted eyes.
A few months have gone by since my training with him started. Since then, both of us sohow dropped the appearances and revealed our real selves to each other as we continued to argue with each training that he made do.
His original facade as a kind old man who had offered to beco his disciple with a warm smile was nothing but a blatant lie... And instead of that, he was but a crazed and senile old man that seed to be obsessed with training and becoming stronger. Often saying things like "Surpass your limits!" or "No pain no gain!" while punching a rock with a straight face.
Sotis I wondered if I had beco the disciple of an old man with dentia because of that.
Aside from that, he was also an incredibly arrogant bastard, who, aside from thinking of himself as the best martial artist ever, also thought that his fighting style was the best of all and that every other martial art was for amateurs. Often deaning other famous styles like Karate, Judo, and many others in the process, saying that they were styles that only newbies would think of learning and that he could crush every single of them easily with his style.
Really, he often got on my nerves every ti he laughed haughtily when I ntioned a martial art that I saw on the internet. His arrogance knew no bounds.
Though, as much as I hate to admit it, his arrogance was a little bit justified, though, just a little bit...
During these few months of training, I have grown a lot and at an incredible rate. One that simply couldn't be compared to the one I had when I was learning under that fake psycho teacher.
I still wasn't completely sure about how strong I was compared to other people, but I could easily feel how my movents seed more and more fluid and fast with each day that passed.
If not for the infernal training that this old man made go through, I would even feel grateful to him for teaching so much.
However, the torn muscles, the peeled-off knuckles and fingers, the gruesoly broken fingernails, the heavy concussions in my head, and the verbal abuse that would co with even the slightest hesitation or groan often made any shred of gratefulness disappear imdiately from my mind.
It wasn't to the point of calling it "hard" training anymore... No, I'm sure not even people in the military were treated this harshly when it ca to training.
Well, maybe I exaggerated a bit there. But with this old man, who knows if that will be a truth in the future when the training becos more difficult?
After all, I suspected that he was holding back because I was still six years old... Which in turn ant that once I beca old enough, surely his training would beco even more hellish than it was now.
It made shudder to just think about it...
His training mainly consisted of several types of exercises that he made do every day repeatedly.
Punching a very thick log with my bare fist for a few minutes straight, stabbing a pot full of sand with my hands until they started to bleed, walking down incredibly long stairs by using my hands, maintaining unholy poses for hellish amounts of ti while carrying heavy objects either on my shoulders or in my head, and sparring against the violent old man who seed completely clueless about the concept of child abuse.
Those were most of the training that he made do during these few months, and although so of them sounded plain and not difficult, they had a hidden difficulty that would make any inexperienced guy cry in pain after trying.
The hardest of all was the one that consisted of walking down the stairs using the hands instead of the feet. It might seem simple at first, and so I had thought the first ti he had told to do it. But in reality, walking down the stairs using your hands was actually an extrely extenuating training for your whole body.
(A/N: Not in a Might Guy-like manner, but in-all-fours, and with the hands at the front. Like a dog, for example)
The old man had told that it was because it was actually one of the few exercises that could make use of most of the body's muscles at once... And considering how tired I would end up after doing it, I don't think he was lying.
And although it may not be such a hard thing to do at first, since it wasn't a hard task to do with a body full of energy, when facing the terrifyingly long stair that the old man had selected for to walk down, no matter how energetic you were at the beginning, you would surely end up exhausted by the ti you reached the end of the stairs.
For , every second that I passed doing that exercise felt like ntal torture and made wish at all tis that it was over so that I could rest.
Besides, having the constant feeling that you would fall down the stairs if you failed to perform the exercise well certainly didn't make it any better. In fact, I fell down the stairs a few tis because I lost concentration when thinking about that.
Though, fortunately, the old man always stopped my fall before my injuries and bruises turned too serious, which at so point made numb to falling down the stairs, as I understood that the old man would stop anyway and the worst that would happen after the fall would be a few bruises and scratches.
Though, that didn't take away how extenuating it was for my still-young body.
Now, the second hardest training, on the other hand, was annoying and difficult in a different way...
While the first one was a little bit unnerving and extrely exhausting, the second one was... Irritating and painful.
What was the training? Of course, it was sparring against the old man himself.
And let tell you, he barely knew the concept of holding back.
If I were to fail on even a single step while doing a movent that he had taught , he would imdiately block it and hit instead with no reservations whatsoever. Heck, he didn't seem to care in the slightest about the fact that I was a damn child of no more than six!
After each training session, it was usual for to have at least both of my eyes purple, or my nose bleeding severely.
It reminded of those tales that my parents from the past life would tell every once in a while, where their teachers would hit them with a stick if they were to make a mistake or behave incorrectly.
Though in my case it was a punch rather than a stick, and with not an ounce of holding back... And well, it also seed to have an actual purpose behind it, rather than just imprinting pain in my mind so that I would not fail again.
No, the real purpose of hitting after each fail, was to improve my reflexes to react better in case of possible counter-attacks... Or so the old man said.
I honestly didn't believe him that much... But well, my reflexes had indeed improved as I would sotis block his punches whenever I failed. So, who was I to question a martial arts professional, as arrogant as he may be?
Those were the exercises that I considered the hardest among all of those that I have to do nowadays. However, that didn't an that the others were easy either.
Stabbing a pot full of sand with my hands was just incredibly painful for my hands. It peeled off my skin, broke my nails to the point in which I wondered if they were going to fall off, and made my hands feel incredibly numb by the ti each training finished. There was even a ti when I thought my fingers had been broken because I was not able to move them after the training. To my ease, though, I was able to move them a few hours later...
Supposedly, it was to make each of my fingers incredibly strong and firm. So that even if I were to stab soone with them, the person would receive more damage than my fingers. However, for now, I hadn't noticed much of a change, just that the pain was slightly less because my skin had beco more resistant and rough.
Probably because of callouses or sothing.
The old man, on the other hand, had pierced a wall of the dojo with his hand as if it had been a simple matter... Comparing that to my weak hands, which would surely break if I were to try and pierce a wall, it made feel like I had a long way ahead.
Though, It also really made curious about what would happen if he were to point that hand at a human being... Damn monstrous old man!
As for the training of maintaining poses while carrying heavy objects on my shoulders or head... Well, what can I say about it?
It was the typical exercise that you could see in martial arts movies of soone carrying either buckets or balancing plates on their heads or shoulders. Heck, I think even Kung-fu Panda depicted a similar exercise in the movie... Though, I might be wrong.
Needless to say, it was painful as well, but at least I had managed to improve a lot my balance thanks to the effectiveness of this training.
All in all, despite how hellish the training was being, I could vividly feel the results of it in my body!
"Alright, that's enough for now"
"-Huff...- Seriously, how is it possible that my hands end up like this every day...?"
"Stop being a sissy. That's only the proof that your hands are gonna beco as hard as a rock later on"
"You say that because yours don't bleed even when you punch a rock with all of your strength..."
"All I hear are excuses. Anyway, leaving that aside... Co, it's ti to elongate. The last thing I want is your parents asking why their son suddenly got a torn muscle "
"My hands are covered in my own blood, and the only thing that worries you is that they will ask you about a torn muscle?"
"There are priorities kid. And besides, they haven't said anything about your bloodied knuckles even after these few months, right? Why would they co now of all tis?"
"Hmm..."
Groaning as I followed behind the old man, I looked at my bloodied knuckles, which had their skin peeled off, and let out an exhausted sigh as I grumbled ntally.
'Of course, it's because I asked them to not do it...'
To be honest, there were a lot of tis during these few months that I thought about giving up. And when I say a lot, I an a LOT.
For soone like , who had lived a relatively peaceful life in my previous world, and now a life of a child, experiencing sothing this hard was really a huge shock for my mind.
Fortunately, I managed to endure it.
... Well, more than enduring it, it would be more correct to say that I just forced myself to simply not tell my parents that I wanted to stop. That way, I was forced to keep going, and therefore, I beca forced to simply accept the training and adapt to it.
It was also because of that, that I told them not to worry about my bloodied knuckles and fingers, or my bruises, or my bleeding nose.
I knew that was the only way for to do sothing so foreign to as training. After all, if I had the choice of stopping and instead just staying at ho, then I'm sure that I would have chosen to do it right away.
Forcing myself to not be able to stop was the only way for to actually continue with the training, as I was never the type to create a routine, to be honest.
Only when I'm put into a situation where I have no choice but to do what I'm required to do, is that I'm able to put actual effort into it.
That is the type of guy I was, even if I am not too proud to admit it.
But fortunately, even with my personality, I managed to survive these months by just not allowing myself to quit.
And thanks to that, now I was already accustod to the training!...
Ahem...To a certain extent...
"Elongate correctly brat! You are doing it all wrong!"
"How am I doing it wrong? I'm doing the sa as you!"
"Move your damn arm higher, with your current pose you are barely giving your arm a slight stretch"
"Ouch, ouch, I got a cramp...!"
"Stupid brat!"
All in all, I was satisfied, even if I was still suffering from ti to ti thanks to this old man.
There were still a few years to co before I would have to apply for a hero school and judging from how fast I was growing, it didn't seem like becoming a hero was going to be that hard of a task.
My parents were kinda supportive of my goal as well, which sohow felt slightly weird to , as I was not accustod to people supporting the objective of becoming a hero.
But well, surely, I would get accustod to it sooner or later. Humans are adaptative creatures, after all.
And I'm one hundred percent a human!
...
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|Inside a hospital...|
...
Sitting on a pair of chairs in the middle of a corridor, two n with white coats could be seen having a conversation about various things. One of them was much more enthusiastic about their conversation than the other.
Their conversation continued like that for a few minutes, discussing various topics about what would be said to be dicine or general science. However, it was suddenly when the enthusiastic man started talking about a certain topic related to a child, that the other man's expression changed to that of interest.
"... And I tell you, it was one of the weirdest things I've seen in my career as a doctor! I an, with Quirks nowadays, nothing is really impossible. However, considering that in this case, Quirks weren't involved with making his body so strong, it really made wonder whether that child was human or not!"
"Hoh... Such an interesting case... You said that kid's na was Suzaku Suzuki, right?"
"Yes, and that's not all! I even did a blood test on him, and guess what? That child had a type of blood I had never seen before! It was similar to the Blood type A, but it was slightly different..."
"... Different, you say?"
"Yes, I didn't have that much ti to analyze it since I was busy trying to understand the reason for his abnormally strong body, but considering the many differences that there were, despite its slight resemblance with the type A, it wouldn't be wrong to call it a new type of blood!"
"Hoh... Interesting... And how did you na it?"
"Pardon?"
"His type of blood. If it really was a new type of blood, then you would have surely given it a na, right?"
"Ah, yes. I nad it Blood type ඞ. For so reason, it sounded good in my head when I thought about it..."
"... ඞ? That's a strange na there... Very curious... Anyway, that was an interesting story, Osawa-san, I hope you will tell more interesting stories the next ti, but it seems I must leave now"
"Uh, ah. Okay, it was a pleasure eting such a prominent figure as you... Dr. Ujiko"
"Hmm... it was very pleasant for as well..."
Saying that with a smile on his face, the short and bald figure of one of the n stood up from his chair and began walking away as a shadow was cast on his face.
And as he did so, he muttered sothing with a weird smile creeping up his face.
"... Very pleasant indeed..."
...
-To be continued-
°°°
(A/N: I made the training based on how Shaolin Monks train... Those guys are real try-hards when it cos to training...
As for the Suzaku's blood type revelation... I don't really know that much about those topics, that's why I gave a vague explanation. I just thought it would be funny if his blood type was ඞ instead of a normal one.
Also... It is ti we have the talk that many of you dread... Yes, it is ti for to plug my Patreon, which is 10 Chapters ahead (It will have a few more in the next few days).
Of course, I will continue uploading Chapters here, but the Chapter release will probably begin slowing down in a few Chapters from now on since I will start running out of stocked-up Chapters. Most likely to two per week which is what I've seen I'm doing nowadays without getting burned out.
So, if you feel like helping get by the month without starving to death and as a plus get more Chapters, go and check it out: /TheSynonym
Also)
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