[ mal's come to the training room to take out frustrations on a punching bag. there's no fighting club here for him to earn extra wages, so a sand stuffed bag will do for keeping up with fighting and also putting his fist to something that isn't the heretic's face.
he takes in the scene before him, the targets and the accuracy of each knife throw. nearly. everyone misses sometimes. mal's a pretty good shot with rifle and arrows, but he misses too.
the knives disappearing is curious but then again, mal's fought a giant lizard and a cybertronian. so what's disappearing knives? he cannot tell if it's magic or if itachi's tucking them away. he appreciates it though, since he has a few tucked into his clothes normally but not today.
he shakes his head as the other speaks. ] I don't need much space if you were still training. Just a corner with a punching bag. [ he's come without weapons. ] Just don't throw anything my way.
（ even his idea of 'missing' is not to have completely bypassed the target so much as the errant knife being a few inches low of center. his right shoulder still hitches faintly when he throws in the arc of an overhand, the damage from venom overriding years of instinct and skill. it is why he keeps practicing, and will continue pushing until he is fully healed.
he told gwen that it was fine, but that was not quite the truth. he studies the aforementioned punching bag, and then — ）
[ mal nods at the answer and moved forward toward the punching bag, sets it up so it's hanging far away enough from the wall that he can move around it easily.
he perks up at the mention of an opponent thought, turns to look back over at itachi. ] Wouldn't mind one. [ he nods, offering a grin. ] Punching a bag of sand will only get me so far.
[ it'll get his energy out but so will an opponent and fighting a person will prepare him for missions.
mal's aware that unlike many on the station, he was not affected by the loss of powers. on following missions, he may struggle to keep up. ]
[ he pulls off his jacket to leave himself in a white linen shirt, then rolls one of his shoulders back. ] I can hold my own in a fight. Make money off a fight club back home. [ but at the second question he shakes his head. ] No. Do you?
One can never be too cautious, given some of the worlds we have visited.
（ the other points that the man rattles off receive a nod in turn, but he is human, ultimately. ）
I have abilities others perceive to be magic, including enhanced strength and speed. However, utilizing these things is not necessary in combat. I can fight as if I do not possess them.
Sand that fights you exists out there. Noted. [ mal's sure he'll be at a disadvantage in plenty of the places they go but, ultimately, there's something more unnerving about potentially sentient sand than anything.
at the list of itachi's ability, he nods.
he should expect this. that powers and magic are the norm, that he'll have to keep up with skill and brute force. mal has no powers to offer. ] Don't go too easy on me without all of that.
（ he opens in a soft form, stance fluid and easy, barely seeming to be on his guard at all. but, in the spirit of not 'taking it easy' on the man, he attacks first. it is clear that his speciality is speed more than strength, and he is elusive as smoke even without using chakra to improve his speed. the majority mal's blows that make contact are redirected rather than blocked, as itachi slips away like a ghost. the rare one that makes contact receives nearly no reaction, pained or otherwise — he's clearly accustomed to being hit a great deal harder than this.
(kisame, after all, has been his primary sparring partner for years, and kisame's blows can shatter steel.)
when he strikes, they are sharp and precise, and if mal does not block or dodge he'll find the areas in a grotesque patina later of purples, blacks and greenish yellows.
but their stamina is impressive on both sides, seeming evenly matched in that respect, and the fight drags on for some time, unceasing. ）
[ mal's used to being a patchwork of bruises. he's fought to earn extra money on top of meager wages, has been on the receiving end of projectiles and weapons.
he's a canvas peppered in scars and stories, so while he does grunt at each blow he's not unused to this. he keeps up well considering all he has is a brawler's background, no particular style or strategy behind his moves.
along the way he loses his shirt and when they do pause, mal's sweating and panting. he shakes out his left hand, rubs his wrist. ] I suppose it's a good thing we didn't bet anything on that.
（ he is not a gross, sweaty mess by any estimation, thank u. barely a hair out of place, for all that the shadows of faint exhaustion have deepened on his face. elegance, thy name is. ）
[ everything's a bit more fun when there's a bet behind it. at least, when that bet means a few extra rations or coin.
unless it's foreign money, he guesses, but that train of thought leads him to dubrov and mikhail, to the permafrost and the forest where following him got them killed.
so he stops that in its tracks.
it's easier to focus on the now, even if it makes him want to fight again to forget. ] Any time. Thank you for not going too easy on me.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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he takes in the scene before him, the targets and the accuracy of each knife throw. nearly. everyone misses sometimes. mal's a pretty good shot with rifle and arrows, but he misses too.
the knives disappearing is curious but then again, mal's fought a giant lizard and a cybertronian. so what's disappearing knives? he cannot tell if it's magic or if itachi's tucking them away. he appreciates it though, since he has a few tucked into his clothes normally but not today.
he shakes his head as the other speaks. ] I don't need much space if you were still training. Just a corner with a punching bag. [ he's come without weapons. ] Just don't throw anything my way.
no subject
I'll endeavour not to.
（ even his idea of 'missing' is not to have completely bypassed the target so much as the errant knife being a few inches low of center. his right shoulder still hitches faintly when he throws in the arc of an overhand, the damage from venom overriding years of instinct and skill. it is why he keeps practicing, and will continue pushing until he is fully healed.
he told gwen that it was fine, but that was not quite the truth. he studies the aforementioned punching bag, and then — ）
Would you prefer an opponent?
no subject
he perks up at the mention of an opponent thought, turns to look back over at itachi. ] Wouldn't mind one. [ he nods, offering a grin. ] Punching a bag of sand will only get me so far.
[ it'll get his energy out but so will an opponent and fighting a person will prepare him for missions.
mal's aware that unlike many on the station, he was not affected by the loss of powers. on following missions, he may struggle to keep up. ]
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（ private joke. the kazekage is not here, after all. ）
What is your experience level with close quarters combat, and do you have additional skills or abilities to be aware of?
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[ he pulls off his jacket to leave himself in a white linen shirt, then rolls one of his shoulders back. ] I can hold my own in a fight. Make money off a fight club back home. [ but at the second question he shakes his head. ] No. Do you?
no subject
One can never be too cautious, given some of the worlds we have visited.
（ the other points that the man rattles off receive a nod in turn, but he is human, ultimately. ）
I have abilities others perceive to be magic, including enhanced strength and speed. However, utilizing these things is not necessary in combat. I can fight as if I do not possess them.
no subject
at the list of itachi's ability, he nods.
he should expect this. that powers and magic are the norm, that he'll have to keep up with skill and brute force. mal has no powers to offer. ] Don't go too easy on me without all of that.
no subject
（ he opens in a soft form, stance fluid and easy, barely seeming to be on his guard at all. but, in the spirit of not 'taking it easy' on the man, he attacks first. it is clear that his speciality is speed more than strength, and he is elusive as smoke even without using chakra to improve his speed. the majority mal's blows that make contact are redirected rather than blocked, as itachi slips away like a ghost. the rare one that makes contact receives nearly no reaction, pained or otherwise — he's clearly accustomed to being hit a great deal harder than this.
(kisame, after all, has been his primary sparring partner for years, and kisame's blows can shatter steel.)
when he strikes, they are sharp and precise, and if mal does not block or dodge he'll find the areas in a grotesque patina later of purples, blacks and greenish yellows.
but their stamina is impressive on both sides, seeming evenly matched in that respect, and the fight drags on for some time, unceasing. ）
no subject
he's a canvas peppered in scars and stories, so while he does grunt at each blow he's not unused to this. he keeps up well considering all he has is a brawler's background, no particular style or strategy behind his moves.
along the way he loses his shirt and when they do pause, mal's sweating and panting. he shakes out his left hand, rubs his wrist. ] I suppose it's a good thing we didn't bet anything on that.
no subject
（ he is not a gross, sweaty mess by any estimation, thank u. barely a hair out of place, for all that the shadows of faint exhaustion have deepened on his face. elegance, thy name is. ）
That was enjoyable. Thank you.
no subject
[ everything's a bit more fun when there's a bet behind it. at least, when that bet means a few extra rations or coin.
unless it's foreign money, he guesses, but that train of thought leads him to dubrov and mikhail, to the permafrost and the forest where following him got them killed.
so he stops that in its tracks.
it's easier to focus on the now, even if it makes him want to fight again to forget. ] Any time. Thank you for not going too easy on me.
no subject
instead — ）
It would only be a detriment to the missions were I to do so.
（ so don't thank him. that's weird. no. ）
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and not like he told itachi that he didn't have any powers before he started. ]
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（ he always allows for the possibility of the man's statement having been a lie. he inclines his head faintly at the lone word, and then — ）
I am in the training room most mornings, beginning at 0300 by the station clock. You may join me whenever you wish.
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Sure, I'd like that. Maybe not that early but closer to 0500. [ if he can sleep, he's going to sleep in to 0500. ]
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（ he nods once to the man, and then... uses shunshin to depart without another word. oop. ）
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