I once told you about a man from my childhood.
No, my Sensei had a cold heart, a bald head, and showed me how to smile with devious intent.
So two parts Cobra I guess you could say.
If you remember, I told you about how my Sensei dislocated my fingers the first time we met while calmly introducing himself with a friendly handshake.
I was a teen at the time.
To say I don’t like talking about him much would be an understatement. I might have learned under him, and still put into practice his teaching today… but he wasn’t a nice man. And no, it’s not because he was a deviant who challenged people to death fights in his spare time, but because to tell his tale would make Max Shell look down to Earth and dwarf my own.
In order to explain Shaori I must dip my toe into his pond for a moment.
Shaori you say?
Long after I succumbed to my Sensei’s shadow– after I was turned into a cheating savant of sorts; he taught me a form of Chinese Kempo that requires you to have rocks in your head if you want to learn it.
That’s how much fun the training is.
In fact, let me tell you how much fun it is.
The training for Shaori is like nothing I’ve ever experienced before, and will be nothing like I ever experience again. Quick, do you want to know an easy way to make a human being rigid? Zap them. Like a cow. And that would be step one in my Shaori training. Step two, after you’re stiff as a board and can’t feel a thing, you get attacked. Step three, and this is really the best part, you can’t defend yourself. You have to take the beating until you can take the beating. I don’t mean in some prison gang initiation type of way, either. The point of step three is to get hit while you’re in an uncontrollable state to the point the only way to defend yourself is to roll with the punches…………
So to speak.
Which means it took years of getting my ass kicked to perfect my Shaori. And as you can see, I’m still taking ass kickings so I haven’t perfected it yet.
Now, in regard to Shaori. There are two kinds. Offensive, and defensive. Masters of Shaori can do both. I’m no master, and as such my Shaori is only defensive.
And now allow me to explain my Defensive Shaori in layman’s terms.
So that Hughie can understand it.
Imagine you are in a car accident. You’ve fallen asleep in the passenger seat after oh I dunno… you and Scottywood have had one to many seltzers. You’ve passed out, because why else would you be letting Scotty drive? You’re on your way home, and Scotty in his infinite wisdom decides to take the next turn a bit too sharp. Suddenly, the NGW Hummer flips over on its side and begins to roll like a scene out of Talladega nights.
Scotty survives the crash, but is now medically brain dead.
You were lucky.
You were fast asleep.
You didn’t flinch or brace yourself for impact, and because of this you survived. You walked away from the scene of the crime without a scratch on you. You begin to wonder… how is that possible? The NGW Hummer looks like a late night taco from the Bell. The wheels are missing. Both of the bumpers are gone. Windows have been shattered. There’s chalupa everywhere.
And have lived to see not only another day but will also once again fall fast asleep tonight.
Just in your Prison Rangers bed this time.
Why is that?
How is that?
Scotty got fucked up so badly his belly button tattoo reappeared.
BUT YOU ARE FINE.
I’ll quit teasing you and tell you why. It’s because you unknowingly rolled with the car. You flailed around in your sleep, limp, like a dry sock while Scotty grabbed the steering wheel with both hands and was more rigid than the telephone pole you barely missed. And that, in an eggshell, is the true essence of Shaori. A technique that requires total control of one’s self. Both the body and mind working as one, no matter the circumstance.
You must be able to react, by not reacting, in a split second.
In Shaori, to flinch, is death.
But Cancer, that doesn’t make much sense. We’ve all heard the story of a baby falling three stories and instead of looking like Lee Best’s empty eye sockets he or she is crawling around on the ground; laughing like it was supposed to happen.
Are you saying that you can relax every muscle in your body right before the point of traumatic impact?
Is that what your Shaori is?
If so, that sounds… pretty cool actually.
Please, tell us more.
Now, before you get all flabbergasted again, please know that you’ve seen my Shaori in action before. The first time I faced Dan Ryan, Shaori allowed me to kick out of his best shot, whatever that Mongo calls it– I think it’s something fun and inventive that billows with vigor and inspiration.
Then you saw it again, when I was able to easily counter Article 50 against Cecilworth and win the LSD Championship.
You see, the first time, when Dan slammed me down to the mat, it was as if he was slamming a feather into the ground because my body was limp like his penis gets at the strip club. Sure, it still hurt some, but I was able to diffuse the severity of the blow by using my Shaori, and eventually kick out at two and then later nail his ass to the mat.
I’d never tell him that.
It’s more fun saying I’m tougher than he is.
And with Cecil, when he grabbed my arm at the start of the match it was as if he was grabbing a noodle, or a dry towel. As such, my arm never locked, and I was able to roll with his momentum, and then pin him for the LSD Championship before Benny could even have the chance to slander us.
Because of my Shaori.
My essence of COOL.
My way of rolling with the punches, no matter who is throwing them and how loaded his right hand might be.
Granted, I was in peak form for those matches. I was riding a wave of victory that I’ve never surfed before. Not here in High Octane anyway. And of course, the Bandits were whole. Basically, there was no risk of using my Shaori because I knew if the time came I would be able to execute without suspicion. Now though, I’m coming off a brutal defeat, and the Bandits are broken. To be forced to use my Shaori against Hughie, is not only a risk… but a great one at that.
The consequences of failing to execute would ultimately leave me without my treasure.
I guess I better not flinch then.