The Urban Chronicle ✔

15: Ninja Warrior Supreme

“Wake up sleepy head!” a voice muttered.

I ignored and snuggled deeper into my pillow. The person poked me on my shoulder in an attempt to annoy me enough and wake me up. Well it did annoy me…a lot.

My fist shot out and connected with the person’s…face?!

“Ouch! What on earth is wrong with you?” the person yelled, “Did some ninja warrior’s spirit enter you overnight?”

Mission accomplished! Now the person will go away and let me wander around the wonderful land of dreams in peace.

I smiled sleepily.

“Tara, I swear if you don’t get out of bed in the next ten seconds, I’m going to pour a bucket of ice cold water on your head!”

No, you wouldn’t dare! But my eyes opened involuntarily on hearing the threat. A very irritated Neel stood beside my bed, a sword in his hand.

“You know if you wanted to kill me, you could have done that while I was sleeping.” I said, narrowing my eyes at him.

Wait, isn’t this the part where I’m supposed to get on my knees and beg for mercy, and then Neel pities the helpless, innocent girl before him and lets me go? Ha, not happening;

I’m unconventional and shall die as a hero.

“It seems to me that you’re suffering from amnesia, but I clearly remember that I agreed to travel to Kalinga with you and Mahindra, and we decided that you needed some combat training for self-defense. So move that lazy butt of yours, we’re going to the arena.” Neel said rolling his eyes at me.

I groaned. I didn’t want to sweat like a pig so early in the morning. I was quite comfortable in bed. And anyway, when did we reverse roles?

Usually, I was the one shaking Neel awake. Ah, how fast times change. I clambered out of bed and dragged myself to the bathroom.

Five minutes later, I was in the arena choosing a weapon of my choice.

As I mentioned before, I like archery so I picked a light weight wooden bow. Turns out, archery is just not my thing. The closest an arrow got to the target was a foot to the right side.

I tried spears after that, but they were too heavy for me to carry so throwing them at a target was completely out of question. After showing a poor penny’s worth in sword fighting, the instructor almost gave up on me.

I sat down, dejected. I knew I wasn’t quite athletic but I didn’t think I was such a hopeless case.

After a little thought, the instructor decided that since I had a petite body structure I would be good at dodging blows and if I worked on my reflexes I wouldn’t need a weapon to defend myself. After all defense was the main objective and not offense in my case. He decided that I would have to learn how to wield a sword properly without hurting myself in the process, because it was the most easily found weapon.

My face lit up on hearing his words. At least I wasn’t hopeless and something was better than nothing.

My practice started with running. Just great! Do you have any idea how annoying it is to run two miles straight, to improve your non-existent stamina while the muscles in your legs are dying due to the accumulation of lactic acid? Not to mention, I run as fast as a dying duck. Eww, I have no idea where I got that analogy from, but I’m sure you get the picture.

After running for about one and a half mile I felt like the lower half of my body was on fire. My throat was parched and I felt like I would collapse any moment. Though not very pleased by my unfitness, the instructor took pity on me and allowed me to have a ten minute break, to stretch and relax my muscles.

I let out a sigh of relief and showered him with blessing s for having a shred of humanity within him. I savored the ten minutes of heaven- I love stretching after all. Yoga over running any day!!

The instructor entrusted Mahindra with the task of teaching the basic techniques of hand to hand combat using a sword. Thank god! That man was disproportionately muscular and very intimidating.

I made a face at him as he turned away from me to correct Neel in some blocking technique. Neel saw it and stifled a smile. I smirked back at him.

“You have to concentrate here Tara!” Mahindra shouted exasperatedly.

“I’m giving it my best shot, ok” I snapped back, focusing on the incoming blow, “There’s no need to shout because you’re amazing at everything you do.”

But you see I’m kind of prone to accidents.

I ended up concentrating so hard that I twisted my wrist badly in the process. Don’t even ask how I managed to do that! It surprised me that my wrist could actually bend to such an extent.

The instructor declared that I had absolutely no scope in sword fighting and told Mahindra that he need not waste his energy on a fruitless task.

“Well, there goes my dream of becoming an Olympic level fencer.” I muttered sarcastically.

As an experiment, the instructor taught me how to make use of day to day objects as weapons. For example- sticks, stones and even a piece of cloth.

Let’s just say this turned out to be my thing. I picked up the concepts with surprising ease.

Everyone seemed impressed because apparently this form of fighting required quick thinking and lighting fast reflexes. People usually preferred a particular weapon as you only had to master a certain number of techniques. My fighting style involved improvising from whatever you could get hold of in the given situation.

I was glowing with pride by the time I was done.

Yeah, I’m not a good for nothing fuzz ball. Better not mess with me. Beware bozos!

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