Training Day
A drabble! Probably a little in the future, but not too far. Few months or so, perhaps! With @lisipuska‘s Yuned’rar and Inun’tar (Zel) and @saljamka‘s Shakka’tar (hopefully I did her justice!)
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Yuned’rar stepped lightly into the familiar training room at his sister’s estate. It wasn’t often that he was on Dromund Kaas nowadays as he mostly spent his time on Tatooine with his husband, but he would always tag along with Yxaxajj if he had work on the Imperial capital world, or if he himself was requested for something. Any time he did return to the planet, however, he made time to visit his sisters and brother.
This was one such occasion. They were all to have dinner together later to catch up, but for now his brother Inun’tar had asked to spar. He had been training more closer quarter combat with Shakka’tar as his Master who was an experienced fighter herself; however, she preferred two lightsabres to his one. “If I pick up a second one, I’m going to lose a limb,” he’d always retort to her suggestion of trying something else.
Shakka’tar knew well enough that Inun’tar was a little clumsy. Actually, clumsy might have been putting it lightly, but it was still polite to offer basic training in various methods if it were possible. With how many times Inun’tar managed to drop his lightsabre, though, or throw it across the room, Shakka’tar worried about how he would ever make his way back out of the Empire. If push came to shove, there would be fighting, and Inun’tar would need to defend himself.
How did he even manage to survive this long?, she wondered to herself as he retrieved his blade.
Today, though, as Yuned’rar stepped into the room, Inun’tar was meant to show off what he had learned and see if he could keep up with his baby brother. He ran up to greet him enthusiastically, even catching him in an embrace.
“You really ought to visit more often, Yuned’rar!” Inun’tar said and gave him a little squeeze. “At least you’re no longer skin and bones, too.”
“I cannot forget to eat now, not with Yxaxajj poking me about it,” Yuned’rar replied with a little laugh, returning the hug. He then turned to Shakka’tar and held an arm out to her. “You are looking well, too, sister.”
“Thank you, I try.” Shakka’tar smiled and joined in the group hug, gently though unlike Inun’tar. “And you ought to be proud of your brother, Yuned’rar. He’s only dropped his sabre twice this week.”
“Twice? I only counted once!” Inun’tar furrowed his brow.
“Twice. Once when you were defending yourself against the training droid two evenings ago at a quarter past seven, and then this morning when you went to take it off your belt and it slipped.”
“Does the second count if I caught it, though?”
“Yes.”
“Brother,” Yuned’rar spoke up, “you should really get a handle on this. Another Sith will be able to spot your weakness a kilometre away, and we cannot always just show up to rescue you from that. Nor can your Zabrak friend.”
“Praz…” Inun’tar meekly corrected him, but then nodded. “Either way, I have improved quite a lot. It’s easier to focus what little I can do with the Force into the blade itself instead of waving my hand around all willy nilly and hope that the flying rocks hit the correct target.”
“...Willy nilly?”
“All silly-like,” Inun’tar laughed and patted Yuned’rar on the back strongly. “C’mon. We can spar and you can tell me where I need to improve!”
“Just don’t kill him, Yuned’rar,” Shakka’tar spoke up and gave him a look. She was aware he wouldn’t kill him, or at least she was pretty certain he wouldn’t. Still, it wouldn’t do any harm to just carefully remind him. Just in case.
Yuned’rar just grunted quietly at his sister and then stepped after his brother onto the floor. He quickly reaccustomed himself to the surroundings, which were always kept very organised. Just as Shakka’tar liked it, of course, but never how he kept it himself. Picking up his sabrestaff from his belt, he looked at it and then at Inun’tar for a moment before asking, “You can hold onto your weapon, or will you try to cut my lekku off?”
Inun’tar stared at his brother for a moment, and then pursed his lips. “Right, um. How about we use the training sabres just in case? I’m pretty sure I can hold onto the hilt this time, but it’d kill me if I injured you…”
Yuned’rar nodded and walked swiftly to the rack against the wall, hanging up his own weapon, picked up a long staff, and then waited for his older brother to do the same. They both then walked out to the centre of the floor. Inun’tar got into his combat stance whilst Yuned’rar paced back and forth for a few moments, eyeing him up with a keen, predatory eye, before himself taking a stance; his was defensive.
“Attack,” he commanded in his quiet, gentle tone.
Inun’tar grinned cheerfully, which was really about the only type of grin that he could give, and then charged at his brother with his training sabre at the ready. Smack! He brought the weapon down on its mark, striking Yuned’rar’s staff that he had brought up to defend himself. For a brief moment he looked rather proud of himself.
Quickly, Yuned’rar returned the attack. He threw Inun’tar’s sabre back and swung his staff around to strike at his brother. It was a tricky move but Shakka’tar had taught him well and he blocked the attack quickly. Inun’tar smirked whereas Yuned’rar growled and brought every attack of his faster and stronger.
Shakka’tar stayed back near the doors and observed, flinching now and again when Yuned’rar attacked and hit his brother directly with the staff. It was a rough spar but she had to keep from stepping in and breaking it up. This was what Inun’tar wanted.
He knew his brother was fierce and had a reputation amongst a few for his viciousness, about how he nearly ripped a Cathar’s throat out when he got carried away during a “friendly” spar. As he’d heard from Yuned’rar, however, he wasn’t on good terms with the opponent; he was likely trying to kill her from the start. Inun’tar silently hoped that he wasn’t out to end him either.
But as they fought Inun’tar could tell he was in complete control of himself, he was just trying to defeat him. Smack! His training sabre struck Yuned’rar’s staff hard, rattling the entire weapon.
“Are you holding back, brother?” Inun’tar asked with a laugh. He instantly regretted it.
Yuned’rar had been holding back. He didn’t have much faith in his brother’s abilities even through his sister’s attempts to make it sound like he was excelling. Yes, he had learned good moves; Shakka’tar was his teacher, after all. But he wasn’t reaching inside and using his emotions, his power. He probably never got angry, not with that annoying, bubbly personality of his.
Everything Inun’tar was doing was simply a taught move. There wasn’t enough variation, there wasn’t much of a feeling behind any of his strikes. He was simply copying moves as they were taught to him instead of feeling and understanding what every strike did. There was no improvisation for the surprises that Yuned’rar spun on him.
To say the least, it was a little disappointing.
Smack! The staff hit Inun’tar hard in his side and he yelped. Immediately, Yuned’rar withdrew his weapon and stood back, listening to his sister’s footsteps as she cross the room quickly to check on them both.
“Heh. So, how did I do?” Inun’tar asked, holding his side.
“Mediocre,” Yuned’rar commented. “You can keep up with the speed, but you have no idea what you are actually doing. You are merely copying what Shakka’tar is teaching you without asking yourself what the purpose of this or that move is.”
“Yuned’rar–”
“Furthermore,” Yuned’rar interrupted his sister, “you left your flank exposed quite often. I held back on attacking this very obvious weak spot and hoped you would catch it. But, as you are now hit, you perhaps realise that you did not cover it, yes?”
“Yuned’rar,” Shakka’tar spoke up again, “take it easy on him. This is a completely different fighting style than what he’s used to.”
“It’s okay, Shakka’tar.” Inun’tar straightened himself up again and smiled. “I needed a more… Critical critique. He’s right. If another Sith attacks me, they won’t go easy on me. They’ll look out for all my weak spots and go for them.” He gave a small and polite bow of his head to his brother, then. “Thank you for having this spar with me. I’ll do much better the next time, I promise.”
“I had hope so,” Yuned’rar muttered, and then patted his sister on the shoulder gently. “You are a good teacher. You will get him into shape.” With that he took Inun’tar’s training sabre and returned all the weapons to their place on the rack.
