"Alright," the man said, putting himself into a basic front stance and guarding his white face with his arms, "Now, I want your shin making impact with my arm, got it?"
"Right," the boy replied with a nod that shook the red hair that lined his pale, round face. He took a deep breath in as he changed his position to a front stance as well, mirroring the man. He studied the man's face. The thick, black hair that caressed the white face with the familiar voice. He took another breath in and kicked. Wrong.
"I said arm, not my side!" the man said with disapproval. "Arm."
"Arm," the boy repeated, taking yet another breath. He kicked again.
"OW! Not the face!"
"Sorry!" the boy said frantically.
"See, this is your problem. You can't aim for anything. If you kick them in the face, it's lucky. Now hit my arm."
Kick. Miss. Kick. Miss. Kick. Miss.
"God, what is wrong with you?! You haven't hit my arm once!" the man said, breaking his position and rubbing his newly-gained black and blue eye.
"I don't know... I'm just... Off-kilter today!" the boy responded, breaking his stance as well.
"Off-kilter. Psh. He says it as if it were possible."
"Well it is!"
"Now audience, you may laugh at Mister Oh-My-Gosh-Angst and his failure to aim correctly." The man took a bow. The boy drew a scowl on his face.
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