Sensei of Shambala. Book III. Anastasia Novykh

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СКАЧАТЬ tension, tenaciously keeping an eye on our guys, who attempted to defend themselves against aggressive attacks of the Chinese. “It’s a school of ‘assassins’. Ninjutsu style.”

      “It’s a very strong school!” Andrew muttered admiringly, captivated by the spectacular fight.

      “It’s a very lowdown school,” Sensei retorted.

      “Oh, why so categorically? Each has priorities of his own,” Ariman joined in the conversation, overhearing Sensei’s unflattering commentaries. “Besides, we are visiting not only your amicable country, but also quite dangerous places all around the world,” he said, as if justifying Veliar’s actions. And evidently in order to relieve the tension of the situation for good, suddenly he nominated himself for sparring partner. “If this style irritates Sensei so much, then I can personally demonstrate the styles you are more accustomed to. Let Veliar rest for a while.”

      Ariman clapped his hands and stopped the sparring. Probably, it was out of regard for Sensei, that he declared a ‘draw,’ although it was clear who had won. The fighters made ritual bows. Veliar headed towards Ariman, who gave him a sign. And our guys, panting, sweaty, covered with scratches, walked toward us, rubbing their bruises on the way. Volodya and Eugene started patting them on shoulders encouragingly. A quiet discussion of the fight began among the elder guys. Notably, having seen the mastery of Veliar from outside, Eugene did not look as depressed after his loss any more. On the contrary, he cheered up somewhat, probably, after the acknowledgement that he undertook to overcome such a strong opponent alone, as if saying, if I had lost, I had gained experience, at any rate.

      In the meantime, without a shadow of tiredness and even without a sign of short-windedness, Veliar stood by Ariman as a thoughtful servant, accepting his hat, jacket, and the necktie that Ariman took off getting ready for sparring. With his immutable smile, the Chinese radiated such tranquility that it might seem he’d gotten out not from a tough sparring, but from a profound contemplative meditation. Meanwhile, observing rapt discussion among our guys with a hardly perceptible grin, Ariman rolled up the sleeves of his fine snow-white shirt. And even neglecting to take his watch and his big golden finger-ring with a red ruby, which judging by their look were very expensive, he got into the ring and invited all-comers, without limitation of quantity, to participate in this sparring.

      Admittedly, at first he fairly confused our guys with his snow-white clean appearance. As even Veliar, who fought well, could not avoid turnovers and topsy-turvies on the sand. But he wore a black kimono: shake it off, and marks of falls become not so noticeable. But there? Ariman simply puzzled us. But while the elder guys kept silent, not knowing what to expect from Ariman after Veliar’s demonstration of his techniques, the junior guys, frankly speaking, were astonished.

      “Maybe it’s better to take the watch off?” Ruslan advised, motioning to Ariman’s luxurious Rolex. “What if they break accidentally?”

      The man smiled ironically, looking at his watch and uttered: “Oh, it's nothing! Come to think of it... you suggested a curious idea. Let’s complicate the task for me. The first attacker able to strike me a blow – any one at that so long as it reaches the target – will receive this watch as a gift. And the one who strikes me down, will get this yacht and all her little boats into the bargain,” Ariman waved his hand nonchalantly towards his posh vessel.

      A whoop of amazement could be heard from our group.

      “Deal!” Ruslan, Kostya, and Andrew exclaimed excitedly kind of in chorus.

      The boys darted out into the ring, casting greedy glances at the attractive watch.

      Seeing that the elder guys somewhat hesitated about going in, Ariman said: “I promise you only clean fighting and using only the styles known to you. No restricted blows will be on my behalf. Let’s do classics! You on the other hand may attack me at will, as you desire.”

      “There’s something I don’t like about it,” Victor uttered cautiously to Volodya. “Looks like there’s some sort of trick.”

      “We’ll check it out,” Volodya said quietly in a bass voice. “In any case, we could do with some extra experience.”

      The elder guys gathered, conversed about something in whispers and got into the ring. Notably, Victor and Stas, who had just been participating in the fight, came out too.

      “It’s not prohibited to act against you as a group, is it?” Volodya inquired.

      “And in any composition and any combination at that,” Ariman emphasized with contented look.

      Eugene glanced at the snow-white yacht, spat out heartily on the sand and pronounced warningly: “That’s it, Ariman! From here you’ll return home by foot.”

      “With pleasure,” replied he with a smile.

      The elder guys became alerted at such an Olympic composure of their opponent. The younger guys, on the other hand, became relaxed, probably assuming that while Ariman is distracted by attacks of professionals, they will surely be able to strike that cherished blow in the value of a Rolex. Nine of our guys came out into the ring, so Tatyana and I, Sensei, Nicolai Andreevich, and Veliar stayed behind as spectators.

      The guys surrounded Ariman in a circle. Stas and Victor placed themselves in the front, Volodya and Eugene at sides. Eugene even stood a little behind so as not to get in the view of his opponent. And the rest: Ruslan, Andrew, Kostya, Slavik, and Yura situated themselves behind Ariman, probably, considering it to be the most advantageous position for achieving their goals. After the ritual bows were made, the fight began on Sensei’s clap. Virtually simultaneously, Volodya, Stas, and Victor began to near Ariman in light imperceptible steps, making feints at their opponent. But Ariman stood calmly, looking somewhere through them, as if gazing nowhere. As I understood, by those abrupt feints the guys tried to detract the opponent’s attention on themselves, irritating his peripheral vision. Seizing an opportunity, they advanced into a real attack. Stas aimed his Maetobi-geri at head, Volodya and Victor attempted strikes at Ariman’s torso. At the same time, Eugene, who had remained motionless till then, rushed under Ariman’s feet from behind. Theoretically, they employed infallible tactics, as under such pressure Ariman would definitely step back while defending and, naturally, would stumble over Eugene, who rushed under his feet; and the yacht would be guaranteed for the guys. However, contrary to all expectations, Ariman made an effortless backflip. Landing behind Eugene, immediately, right when his feet touched the sand, Ariman made a swift step back and right, giving way for a throng of boys, who darted into battle along with the elder guys. As a result of such a swift and sudden movement of Ariman the elder guys, stumbling over the massive Eugene’s body, piled upon him, and on top of them fell those, who attempted to strike Ariman from behind and continued attacking inertially. Thus, there came about a whole pile of stirring bodies. Everything happened virtually in a second. Slavik lagged behind the attackers and was left practically alone against Ariman’s back. However, he kept his head and made an attempt to strike him from behind. But Ariman slightly turned around, caught the guy’s hand and turned him round in such a way that he touched down on all fours. And giving him no chances to recollect himself, Ariman picked him up by a collar of his T-shirt and a belt of his shorts and threw him into the common pile. Observing such ridiculous inadvertence of the guys, Sensei and Nicolai Andreevich, simply burst out into loud laugher, infecting us with their laugh too. Even Veliar afforded a generous smile, watching the occasion with pride.

      The guys began scrambling out of this shameful heap. The last, spitting the sand, battered all over, there raised Eugene. If you could have seen his face in that moment. It bore a lot of resemblance with a sand mask of some aborigine, with two chinks instead of eyes. After standing up the guy did not shake it off for some reason, but started seeking out the one who ironed him to the sand like that. But apparently having realized that there СКАЧАТЬ