Sensei of Shambala. Book III. Anastasia Novykh

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ shook the sand off his face, trying to relieve his head and hair of that little squeaky soil, which made his hairstyle look like Mohawk. And turning his militant look at Ariman, who was barely stifling his laughter, he thundered like an Army trumpet, putting all his offence into words.

      “Now, that’s it! The yacht will be ours for sure!” And the guy dashed into battle. The others followed in disorder. But Ariman, like a toreador, gracefully dodged the attackers, while demonstrating the classics of martial arts. He acted very quickly, virtually imperceptibly, without striking blows, using only graceful aikido style throws. That gave an impression that the guys simply flipped softly on their own, when getting close to him. Ariman performed all this in such an easy, unconstrained, and elegant way that it indeed produced a fascinating rapture.

      As soon as it became clear to our fighters that a spontaneous assault is useless, they reorganized again under guidance of the elder guys and endeavored an attack already in an organized way. The guys surrounded Ariman in three semi-circles in staggered order. They stood in such a way that there were strong fighters in every row. The first four included Volodya and Victor at the sides, the second row consisted of three, Eugene taking the middle, and in the last pair there was Stas. In this formation they started approaching Ariman, pushing him to the sea. When the strip of dry sand ended, Ariman stopped. And the show began! Andrew and Ruslan, being in the first row, were the first to attempt an attack. As soon as Ariman busied himself with them, Eugene gathered speed and with a battle cry “Hi-yah!” he leaped in a kick Yoko-tobi-geri. He flew beautifully indeed, just like in a movie. However, Ariman casting away another opponent, had time not only to avoid Eugene’s kick easily, but he also gave Eugene a slap at the guy’s fanny with the back of his right hand, exactly with the finger-ring. It caused Eugene to alter his “Hi-yah!” into a shrill “Hi-eina!” and overshooting Ariman, he crashed into the water. He got up wet through, frowning and puzzled, intensively rubbing his seat of honor that had suffered in the bright cause. Eugene began to walk out of water slowly, getting round the zone of action, where the guys flipped over and over again around Ariman. The guy was lame in the right leg. When he limped up to us, continuing rubbing his hurt back, one could see tears welled up in his eyes. Obviously, he was hurt badly. He held his own, however, keeping his feelings within.

      When the guy came by, Nicolai Andreevich asked jokingly: “Why, Eugene, have you given up?”

      “Me?! Never in all my born days! I’ve just thought... Why should I need this yacht, anyway, all the more in the city?”

      We laughed to such a decision of the guy, who, after Ariman’s slap, changed his mind so hurriedly. Following Eugene, after having a nice bit of rolling around and sand-eating, the guys began to break off the fight one after another. Their bygone enthusiasm dried up quickly, the more especially as Ariman, who had been dispatching the guys without effort, looked quite fresh and full of pep, as if he had just come out into the ring. Meanwhile, it was too much for our drop-out failed fighters even to rise from the sand after those aerials. As is known by common rule, don't kick a man when he's down. That’s why nobody aspired to stand up. Silently, they only sympathized with their comrades, who persistently kept attacking Ariman. The fewer the fighters were, the more demonstrative and beautiful were Ariman’s pitches to wear them out. His movements, speed, and technique matched those of Sensei. At long last, only Volodya kept on.

      Walking around his opponent, Ariman cheerfully chaffed him: “Do you really want to win that watch or yacht that much?”

      “What good will they do to me? I just feel bad for my state.”

      Ariman grinned.

      “So, that means you don’t give up?”

      “Russians never give up,” Volodya said in bass.

      Ariman sighed and uttered with a smile: “Oh, those Russians to me! Alright then…”

      Volodya attempted a fierce attack. It seemed he threw his only remaining energy into it. Cutting whistle out of air, he started swaying his arms and legs. If only a single blow had reached its target, Ariman wouldn’t have liked it one bit. But, as they say, fate decreed otherwise. Ariman dodged the strikes surprisingly easily and playfully repelled his attack. Then, he improved the occasion by throwing Volodya up in such a way that the latter somersaulted several times in the air and took a swift flyer, risking to break his neck. But Ariman aptly spotted for him. Owing to it Volodya landed on the sand softly and tenderly, without any traumatic consequences. It wasn’t enough that Ariman helped him to touch down safely, he squatted next to him and inquired: “Well, how’s that?”

      Volodya, staggering slightly, assumed a sitting position out of the recumbent one, closed his eyes tight and shook his head: “Now that’s enough alright!”

      “Well, enough is enough,” replied Ariman merrily.

      He clapped him on the shoulder in a friendly way. Apparently, out of politeness, considering the condition of his last opponent, he stood up and made a ritual bow to him and to Sensei.

      Our excited audience gave a storm of applause at the scene. By his mastery, courtliness, lack of malice, and sparing technique Ariman simply won the hearts of the young fighters. A heated discussion commenced, during which the guys began to set themselves to rights.

      “Fantastic!” out “activists” kept crying contentedly. “Wouldn't it be great if we learnt to perform like that? Ariman didn’t even soil his shirt. Such mastery!”

      The hero of the occasion put on his tie, jacket, and hat unhurriedly, even though the heat was sweltering.

      “Great! Your technique is the same as Sensei’s,” Stas observed, addressing to Ariman.

      “Well... We had one Teacher, you know.”

      This notion of Ariman aroused genuine interest among the whole group, as it was the first time we heard something about Sensei’s Teacher. The elder guys exchanged glances. Meanwhile, Victor asked Sensei: “Sensei, would you by chance wish to spar with Ariman?”

      Sensei smiled, looking at Ariman.

      “I would and for a long time. But no matter how many times proposed him, he just wouldn’t accept.”

      Everyone looked at Ariman in a mute amazement.

      “No way,” he replied with a smile, straightening his tie, “gramercy. It’s an honor for me, of course, but... to each his own in this world.” And, evidently, so as not to develop this topic further, he said hastily: “Well, as the Germans say, you can postpone a war but never a lunch. I see that everything’s already set. Ladies and gentlemen, I kindly ask you to dine with me.”

      Everyone turned around with wonder following Ariman’s welcoming gesture. We completely forgot about the lunch with all the excitement. I frankly considered Ariman’s return offer as a joke to Eugene’s clownery. Even if my mind suggested a possibility of realizing this idea, it would produce an imaginary picture of some table with snack sandwiches, sausages, soft drinks, and fruits at most, brought over from the yacht. That’s, so to say, the furniture of my impressions, picked up from the movies about thrifty rich folks. But what we saw just took us aback, for it surpassed any of our expectations.

      Not far from our camp there emerged an entire comfortable installation in the form of a huge stretched marquee of pink silk, set right on the shore. The top of the marquee was silvery lustrous, as if covered with some thin foil. Behind the translucent silk there could be seen a big white table, covered with colorful dishes. We did not believe our eyes. Our breath took a walk with such a beauty. The only person among our group, who was not surprised at this decoration, was Sensei. He simply sighed, looking at the marquee, and said to Ariman with a smile: “Well, you’re always СКАЧАТЬ