# Blood and Fists story hour [Updated March 25]



## Vigilance (Mar 15, 2004)

“Hong Kong Knights Part 1”

Kimiko knelt on the matt, eyes closed. The sound of her breathing became her entire world. Her body was alive with sensation, muscles twitching with anticipation. Suddenly she was on her feet, her sword in her hand. Her eyes opened, slightly unfocused in the dim light of the dojo. She whirled, performing simulated attacks and defenses, parries and ripostes. The sword was a part of her and she of it. At no time did she feel more alive. More at peace. 

A frantic banging broke her reverie. Swiftly she crossed the dojo and lifted a small curtain on the door. A small Japanese boy, perhaps eight or nine, was standing in front of the dojo, tears staining his young face. Instinctively, Kimiko glanced around to make sure he was alone before unlocking the door.

As soon as the door was unlocked he grabbed her hand, tugging her, he seemed panicked. “C’mon you gotta help me! It’s my brother, they’re killing him!”

v	

Ari fell to his knees as another blow hit him square in the face. Stunned, he watched as the boy, taller than him when both were standing loomed over him for a moment, a hellish grin cracking his face. Ari’s arms were like lead. Compared to his tormentor he seemed to be moving in slow motion. He was unable to raise them before the boy hit him again. Ari’s heart pounded in his chest and the noise seemed even louder than the laughter and taunts that rained down on him as his tormentor turned to his friends, hands raised in a mock victory celebration. 

“C’mon show us the round kick!”

“Yeah you promised you’d show us! This little punk can’t even move!”

The tormentor shrugged off his red silk jacket, “Ok, but once I unleash that bad boy, he’ll need a doctor. No more show…”

“Who cares, c’mon! You promised!”

Ari looked around, dazed, wondering what they were talking about. Wishing he could make his legs work.

v	
Kimiko pushed her way through the crowd. After they noticed her, the boys, all wearing red silk jackets parted, making her way clear into the center of the circle. The crowd then closed behind her. Ignoring the boy at the center of the crowd, Kimiko knelt beside Ari. She tilted his head back, looking down critically into his eyes. “Possible concussion,” she thought to herself. At least nothing was broken. 

The crowd had gone completely silent. Many looked at the boy in the center, their unquestioned leader for direction. Sure she was a girl. But she was also an adult. Somehow that changed the dynamic of the situation. 

The boy’s laughter broke the silence, “Looks like the little boy’s rescuer has arrived. A girl and his little brother.”

Kimiko looked up at the boy, frowning. “He needs a doctor. I don’t know what this is about, but he’s coming with me. Go home.”

The boy just laughed again. “I still need to demonstrate the roundhouse kick for my boys here. Then you can have him.”

Kimiko stood up, barefoot, still in her practice gi, she moved between the boy and Ari. Her gaze locked with the boy’s for a tense moment, “You may demonstrate your kick.”

Laughter erupted from the crowd, but instantly quieted down, “On me. Not the boy.”

Again they seemed to look to their leader for how to respond to this unexpected development. He noticed several of his friends glancing nervously at the sword casually slung on her back. This only fueled the rage inside him. This all seemed like a challenge to his dominance somehow. 

Regaining his composure, the boy grinned again, “All right then.”

Suddenly his body was in motion, a well-trained compact pivot designed to take the annoying girl’s head right off her shoulders. 

Only it didn’t connect. The boy let his momentum carry around, head swiveling to locate his target for a second attack. Except she seemed to have vanished. 

Kimiko ducked beneath the boy’s kick with ease. It wasn’t exactly clumsy, and he was extremely quick, but an attack she knew was coming wasn’t hard for a woman with her training to block. From a crouch she waited a split second for the boy’s momentum to carry him around, then she swept his weight bearing leg out from under him.

The boy was trying to figure out why he was on the ground. His ankle was killing him, and stars were still exploding from the back of his head where he had unceremoniously landed on the pavement. 

Kimiko stood up, and with the help of Ari’s younger brother, got the boy on his feet. The crowd parted for them. The silence was deafening as they moved through the throng. A silence that was shattered by a click from the center of the crowd. 

Ari seemed a little better able to walk on his own, and Kimiko whispered, “Head for the Gengetsu, then call the police.”

Turning, she saw the boy at the center of the crowd, a murderous rage in his eyes. A switchblade was in his right hand and he motioned the girl forward. Eyes never leaving the wicked little blade in his hand, Kimiko stepped back into the center of the circle.

The sound of her breathing became her entire world. 

The boy lunged forward. Thankfully he was a better martial artist than he was knife fighter. Kimiko sidestepped the lunge, bringing her open hand down sharply on the boy’s wrist. He exhaled sharply in pain, and the knife fell clattering to the ground. Kimiko hooked one leg behind the boy, grabbing his shirt and using his clumsy momentum to carry him over her hip and back down to the pavement. In a heartbeat her sword was in her hand, the naked blade seemed to hum as it moved right against the boy’s throat, but no farther.

“What is your name boy?”

The boy stared up at her in stunned silence for a moment, and swallowed. Finally he croaked out, “Ryusaki Kata.”

Kimiko smiled for the first time that evening, “With a name like Kata you’d think you would practice more.” 

A titter of laughter was heard from the crowd at this.

“Well Ryusaki Kata, should you ever pull a blade on me again, I will disarm you permanently. It will be your hand on the ground alongside your blade. Do we have an understanding?”

Kata’s eyes widened as he nodded. 

Kimiko rose and pocketed the switchblade. Eyeing the crowd of boys, she picked up Kata’s jacket and threw it into the air. Her katana moved through it with no more effort than it did the air and the jacket landed in two pieces on the ground. 

“You call yourself the Crimson Fists? Get off the street. Go home. Stop harassing other boys. I am not going anywhere. The choice is yours.”

Silence reigned as Kimiko sheathed her father’s sword and once again walked through the crowd.  

To be continued...


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## C. Baize (Mar 15, 2004)

Very nice! 
This certainly goes on my short list of threads I've subscribed to. 

Interesting, all the Japanese elements in Hong Kong, too.


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## zenld (Mar 15, 2004)

Nicely written fight. I like the flowing action. Very nice.

Waiting for more.

zen


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## ledded (Mar 15, 2004)

Wow Vig, great descriptive prose for the action there.  Very nice.

I'm putting this one on the subsribe list and checking back for sure.  Looking forward to the story.

Glad to see you posting up this SH, though I have no idea where you get the time with all the projects you seem to be into


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## Vigilance (Mar 15, 2004)

I am assisted by the fact that I have no life 

Chuck


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## Pierce (Mar 15, 2004)

Woo hoo - martial artsy goodness!  Sign me up!


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## Broccli_Head (Mar 15, 2004)

C. Baize said:
			
		

> Very nice!
> This certainly goes on my short list of threads I've subscribed to.




Me too! Except my list is long, not short.


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## Eyas (Mar 16, 2004)

Great story! Nicely written and with a good flow. I look forward to more


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## Vigilance (Mar 17, 2004)

“Hong Kong Knights, Part 2: Allegiances”

Max walked around the small dojo, looking at the pictures on the wall, the memorabilia of a lifetime. A lifetime of service.

He knew Kimiko had had problems with her father, and that she never reconciled with him before he passed away. Trouble with a father is something Max understood all too well. He hadn’t expected Kimiko’s father to be so little. Or such a highly decorated soldier. “Looks like a tough little guy to me,” Max mused to himself while he continued his trek around the room and its memories. 

Although she hadn’t reconciled with her father in life, Max couldn’t help but feel the entire dojo was Kimmie’s way of saying she was sorry. The place was like some kind of shrine.

And Max paused at the head of the dojo’s workout area to stare in wonder at the centerpiece of that shrine. A sword. Not just any sword. Max had a sword from his time in the service. But this was different. This was an elegant weapon, hundreds of years old, with the weight of history pulsing through it. It was alive with memories. Memories of battle. 

“Look but don’t touch sugah, I’d hate to have to watch Kimmie kill you.”

Max felt Brianna’s arm slip around his waist, “Yeah that would be pretty funny. She might be able to take me too. Unlike you.”

Brianna laughed and took a step back, intending to slug Max, whose eyes still had not left Kimiko’s sword in the bicep. Just as it should have landed he took a step back, grabbing her wrist and using her momentum to plant her face first on the matt.

She didn’t stay there long. Despite the unceremonious way she had landed she managed to tuck her head and perform a shoulder roll onto her feet. Max loved to watch her move. Everything she did seemed graceful somehow. 

Brianna, however, was in no mood to be admired.

“All right you lug, you asked for it. That’s twice now.”

Max stepped onto the matt, shrugging off his jacket, grinning. As was his habit he smacked his left bicep, with the “Born to lose” tattoo first, then his right, with the “Death from above” tattoo. “It’s not my fault you always think the first punch is going to land. Arrogant little…”

Max managed to duck the crescent kick, almost, taking the brunt of it on a shoulder that might as well have been carved from granite. The first few minutes of any fight with Bri were the most dangerous, he reminded himself. You have to adjust to just how fast she is. 

Brianna danced around him, tossing off her jacket, doing little rabbit hops to loosen her hamstrings as she moved. 

Max watched her, laughing as he realized how genuinely mad she was. He waited until she had one leg up in the air and then threw himself at her, driving his shoulder into her midsection. He heard her breath explode from her lungs and knew he had her. He drove down, intending to drive her into the matt, a move that would finish a man twice her size. He barely caught a glimpse of his mistake in the mirrors that lined the walls of the dojo. 

Brianna watched Max, standing in the center of the matt, eyes tracking her as she danced around him. She noticed his biceps (and lord what fine biceps they were… time enough for that later) tense every time she brought a leg up to stretch. So she paused just a split second too long, left one leg up a little too long, and waited. Sure enough he launched himself at her. She felt a moment of panic as he drove into her. This must be what fighting a tiger is like, she thought to herself. Then her lungs her searing, her ribs creaking audibly in her ear, and she was airborne. Just where she wanted to be.

As they reached the apex of their flight and began to head down to the matt, she wiggled down out of the larger man’s grasp. Using his bulk for leverage, she brought her right leg up over her head, snapping it like a whip and nailing Max right in the back of his shaved head. With an audible “oomph” he landed face first on the matt. Brianna planted her hands on his shoulders and drove him down, then pushed off, launching herself back into the air and landing in a light crouch on the edge of the matt. 

Max growled, shook his head, ready to launch himself again, when a voice interrupted his train of tactical thought.

“What are you two doing?!?”

Brianna stood up out of her fighting crouch, abashed. As always Max managed to say the most embarrassing thing possible.

“Foreplay?”

Now it was Kimiko’s turn to blush, though she hid it well, “Not in my dojo.”

Max stood up, snatching up his army surplus jacket from the floor where he had discarded it. “Place looks nice, when is the grand opening anyway?”

“Tomorrow,” and Kimiko couldn’t help but smile at the thought of the Gengetsu, the Crescent Moon, finally being open for business. “But actually,” Kimiko continued, her smile fading, “I already have a student.”


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## Eyas (Mar 18, 2004)

Vigilance said:
			
		

> Using his bulk for leverage, she brought her right leg up over her head, snapping it like a whip and nailing Max right in the back of his shaved head. With an audible “oomph” he landed face first on the matt. Brianna planted her hands on his shoulders and drove him down, then pushed off, launching herself back into the air and landing in a light crouch on the edge of the matt




Ouch, getting kicked in the back of the head by a beautiful woman. Sounds like it might have hurt Max's pride more than his hard head    Can't wait to read more, thanks Vig


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## Vigilance (Mar 21, 2004)

“Hong Kong Knights, Part 3: Lessons”

Kata pulled up into the parking lot of the Enkai. 

Despite the rain he was wearing only a black t-shirt, refusing to wear a jacket other than his Shinku Kobushi jacket which that bitch had ruined the night before. Weaving through the Lincolns and Cadillacs waiting for valet parking, he pulled his bike around back, pausing briefly to meet the gaze of a hard-eyed teppodama holding a barely concealed Uzi under a rain-slicked trenchcoat. He stopped at the door before another guard, one seemingly cut from the same block of granite as the one who guarded the entryway to the rear parking area and stated his business, “I need to see Mr. Takamitsu.” 

The guard just grunted and knocked on the door. It opened into a small room where three more guards stood at the ready. One of the guards went deeper into the labyrinth that made up the back of the Enkai while Kata waited in silence, shivering in the air conditioned club.


Shogu stood motionless in the dimly lit room. His vision narrowed until he saw nothing other than his target. The sound of his breathing became the only sound, it’s measured beat like a metronome to a dance inside his heart. His katana was tucked into his belt the way the ancient Iaijutsu masters wore their blades. The metronome quickened, and with a Kiai he began to run. At the last possible instant he drew his sword. Like lightning the blade arched over his head and came crashing down on his target, the arm of a headless corpse stretched out on a table, severing meat and bone cleanly. In an instant he had cleaned his blade and resheathed it. Only after he had turned his back did a servant scurry from the darkness on the far side of the room and retrieve the severed arm, ferrying it into away. Shogo turned and stood motionless, once again facing his target.

The door behind him opened and Kata slipped in. He crossed his wrists behind his back and lowered his gaze, waiting in silence. After a moment Shogu turned to face the boy. “Where is your jacket, Kata?”

Kata stood completely still, never raising his eyes to look at his superior, “There has been a problem, Oyabun. I need guns…”

The backhanded smack rocked Kata back on his heels. He kept his arms crossed behind his back, his gaze lowered.

“You have all that you need Kata. You and your bosozuku must maintain a low profile until we have established ourselves here. You assured me you could do this. You have all that you need. If you cannot cement control of the streets, I will find someone who can.”

Kata nodded, remaining motionless as Shogu talked momentarily with a servant, who scurried quickly into the darkness and returned. 

He handed Kata a small knife with a string tied around it. 

“Now go.”


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## Vigilance (Mar 26, 2004)

Max sat on the balcony, watching the sun come up. He took a long drink of strong coffee and wished he had a cigarette. He didn’t turn as the door slid open behind him, but held his cup over his shoulder. Brianna took it and slipped one arm around Max’s waist. After taking a drink she handed it back, then rested her chin on his shoulder, watching the sun come up over the harbor with him. 

Finally Brianna broke the silence, “So what’s on the itinerary today?”

“I was thinking Lantau island.”

“Thinking of exploring Buddhism?”

Max chuckled, “I’m starving. I wonder if we can find Dim Sum this early. Let’s hit the Soho district and then catch a ferry.”

Brianna arched her back, listening to it crack, “Sounds good. Mind telling me what’s been on your mind lately? You’re not usually so quiet.”

Max turned around, regarding her intently. “I invited your father to join us. I wanted to let him know.”

Brianna stiffened slightly, “It’s not exactly safe for him to be here.” 

She got flustered as Max laughed, then suddenly became serious, “I was thinking it would be easier to tell him if we could also tell him we were engaged.”

Brianna studied him for a moment, frowning, “You know that might be the worst proposal I have ever heard.”

Max laughed, “Well I’ll bow to your wisdom on that. You’ve obviously gotten more proposals than I’ve given… ow!!!”

Max stood on one leg, cursing. Now it was Brianna’s turn to laugh, “Sometimes the first shot does land. All right you sexist oaf. You can marry me. And you can ask my father for my hand like it’s the eighteenth century too.”

Max growled, cursing under his breath, “That is not why I invited… ow!!!”

v	

Kimiko stood, watching critically as her students went through their kata. 

“Technique is everything. Concentrate on your breathing. Let it become your entire world.”

Looking at the pictures on the walls above the mirrors that ringed the dojo, she remembered someone else saying those exact words so long ago.

From outside she heard motorcycles, a lot of them, roaring to a stop in front of the dojo. She tapped Ari on the arm, “Go call the police. Now.”

Tucking her father’s sword into her belt, Kimiko hurried the younger students into her office. She opened a small glass case, handing some of the older students the small assortment of traditional weapons she had on hand: Sai, Jutte, Nunchaku.

Boy after boy filed into the dojo, all wearing red silk jackets. On the back, in black, a fist with a dragon wrapped around it. She allowed herself a slight smile as she noticed not a single of the boys were armed. At least her demonstration had done some good. 

v	

Katsumoto quickened his pace as he saw the motorcycles stop in front of the tiny nondescript building. He had a sense about some things, and he felt like the building getting all the attention was his destination. Hong Kong had never been a safe or boring place for the old man to visit. He counted the bikes and frowned. Fourteen. 

As he neared the door he could hear the sounds of battle from inside. He glanced through the glass door, seeing one boy in a red jacket standing guard. Glimpses of the chaos inside told the old man all he needed to know about what was happening inside. 

He opened the door and grabbed the boy by the hair, pulling him into the street. A sharp chop to the neck and the boy was unconscious. Steeling himself, Katsumoto brought his heel down hard, breaking the boy’s ankle. 

The old man then reached into his duffle bag and pulled out a rope woven of horsehair. At either end of the rope was a stone weight the size his fist. The old man then slipped inside the tiny dojo like a ghost.

v	

Kimiko winced as another of her students went down. Only two of the thugs were down. They were much more ready for a real fight than these children, some of whom had only had a few lessons, and it was showing. Several of the thugs also had knives. Despite her threat, she would only unsheathe her blade as a last resort. Silently, Kimiko hoped against hope that the police arrived before she reached that point. 

Ari waited, trying to focus on the sound of his breathing as one of the Crimson Fists approached him, grinning devilishly as he waved his switchblade, cutting the air with it as he approached. Ari steeled himself, preparing to strike, as a look of confusion came over the boy’s face.  Suddenly he toppled over backwards. Only when an old man Ari had never seen before sent the boy into an unconscious oblivion did Ari notice the small black cord around his neck. 

Several of the thugs were down in seconds after that. The thugs could no longer concentrate solely on Kimiko, and every time they focus on her or the old man, the other seemed to be behind them, sending another of the Fists crumpling to the matt. It was a ballet of destruction Ari would remember to the end of his days, beautiful in its savage simplicity. 

At the sound of sirens approaching in the distance, the remaining few thugs broke and ran. The old man caught one around the ankle on the edge of the doorway, snatching him back inside. Katsumoto sat him against one of the mirrored walls while Kimiko talked to the police.


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## ledded (Apr 1, 2004)

Great stuff Vig.  I'm lovin' the martial arts goodness.


We recently had a martial arts showdown in a side campaign we've been doing, BnF style.  It was absolutely fantastic.  We made a quick house rule that every time someone attacked with a BnF feat they had to announce their next martial arts move wuxia film style (we are doing a cheesy 80's cop movie one-off called Action Squad); things were going pretty well until we got to the Burning Crabs Slap countered by Monkey Jumps on the Coconuts 

Well then it just got silly


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## Vigilance (Apr 3, 2004)

Thanks ledded... more is on the way... I have been slacking writing things that pay me lately lol.

Chuck


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## zenld (Apr 6, 2004)

Money? You mean you can actually make money doing this?

We have always known you had a wonderful imagination, but don't you think this is taking it a bit too far?

[Starts counting pennies to figure out how long must save to buy next new vigilance product]

zen


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