Magical Boy
[Johan's POV]
Eskrima had gone boring.
Johan sighed, his gripped on both rattan sticks almost loosened as he went through the basic drills and intermediate forms over and over. Since he was the last to enroll in Grandpa Peter's lessons, the old man had to teach him alone, which wasn't that much. All they ever did was a systematic flow of striking and blocking.
It was repetitive.
It was boring.
A gust of arid wind coming from the seafront blew over the two-meter concrete fence. Instead of cooling his sweating skin, it only made Johan want to skip practice and runaway to Raymond's place where the air was much cooler. Plus, he could climb mango trees and play Tarzan all day. If it wasn't for his grandfather's insistence and the benefit of learning self-defense, he wouldn't attend practice at all.
"Can't you at least look more enthusiastic than that? You're almost ready to drop dead."