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.Monson tried to take it all in.In the short time he had studied, Monson found he much preferred fencing to the hand-to-to hand stuff.Fencing was lots of fun and something he was gaining proficiency at, although slowly.Monson turned a page in his notebook.The move he was currently working on was one that he had merely watched Artorius do.The Four Points was an attacking maneuver that struck four of the nine strike zones on the body, almost simultaneously.These points, located on the head, shoulders, arms, chest, stomach and legs, gave the attacker primary target points to hit, almost all of which were totally incapacitating.Monson’s version of the maneuver aimed for the shoulders, chest and head, those being, in his opinion, the most obvious strike points to use.His movement consisted of two standard slashing moves followed up with two thrusts.It was pretty good in his opinion, but he still could not seem to make his strikes fast enough, no matter how hard he tried.Reading through his notes made him laugh as he thought about how flustered he had been during the first weeks of explanation and drilling, not so long ago.There was so much to know and so many things to learn.It was all bit overwhelming.Taking pity on him, Artorius had explained that no matter what the technique or style, he would be able to break it down if he understood one very important thing.There were only nine real strike zones on the body.That’s it.Only nine.If one understood this, one could also understand that regardless of the move, whether it be thrust, cleave or slash, the opponent would attack one of those areas.To break down an attack and therefore counter it was to understand what area was being attacked and with what move.Monson reveled in that information, which made breaking down moves surprisingly easy.He could do this, he could learn, and he was starting to, slowly but surely.He set the notebook down and walked a ways off from the picnic table.He pulled out his phone, plugged in his earbuds, and scrolled through song titles, most of which he did not recognize.Casey had loaded a lot of his music on his phone since Monson did not own any or really have much of a preference.He settled on an instrumental piece called “Equilibrium” and started into some stretching.The prancing patter of hair-prickling piano drew him in as he moved to some very basic movements.As the tempo quickened, so did his swaying motions.He allowed his wandering mind to follow and felt his heart lighten ever so slightly.It was time to ponder and reflect, and out here alone, surrounded by the fresh air and piney woods, he finally felt able to do so.The smooth, rich sounds of a violin joined the piano in harmony as he closed his eyes and breathed deeply.The fusion of the piano and violin molded its beauty into his weary and defeated core, intensifying the already growing peaceful feeling.He pushed his concentration further into the complicated construct of chords and scales, falling into the rhythm of the piece as the notes climbed and fell in symphonic unity.As he delved deeper into the music, he saw that there was almost a story in and of itself streaming through the lines of interwoven melodies.It was as if the piano and violin were struggling for supremacy, albeit subtly, yet seemed to always remain perfectly within the borders of propriety.They fought back and forth, each line of music careening as their pace and emphasis broadened.Each instrument became bolder and fiercer, taking its sounds to loftier heights all while striving to overcome its counterpart.One, then the other, louder and strong-Monson stopped dead in his tracks, letting the unfinished form of the Ja-no’s Center Step stutter and fall.That was it.He was like the music.Two pieces of his inner self were fighting for dominance.Neither could truly gain absolute dominance, as to do so would have some horrible and unfortunate effect.Like him, if the piano were-another change in the flow of the music catalyzed a detour in his thought process
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