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The Story of the Gakusei

Updated on November 14, 2014

The Story of Gakusei

Turning through the pages, taking in all of the characters written out on the leaves, envisioning worlds unlike our own reality and far beyond the comprehension of the seen. For me, whenever I read a book, it takes me to a new place of possibility. Teachers and professors can talk all they like about the unlimited potential of every student, of their skills and abilities leading to a brighter future of untold and impossible opportunities, yet the chances of those words becoming a reality are bumper to bumper with not really happening.

But in a book, if a thought is written done, then it is forever true. Whether it was written as a fiction or fact, whatever becomes a word can be immortalized in my own mind.

Here, at nineteen years old, sitting around a cliché tree in the middle of my college campus, I can’t express such a greater joy than right now as I finish my favorite book.

Likewise, I can’t put into words the rage I have when a couple of basketball jocks takes my book out of my hands and dangled it in front of my nose.

The two athletes were Jack and Darren from my African American Literature class, and at times I had to give them credit for writing amazing papers when I peer edit them. However, when half that paper are evidence supported white supremacy propaganda, it becomes very hard to want to support these guys. The beer bottles in their hands seem to give a small hint that they did not like my recent editing suggestions I had given on their last papers.

“Got an interesting email from our teacher,” Darren started, “something about inappropriate content in our papers. Now who could have given that suggestion to her?”

Jack started to bang my nose with my book, playing the supporting parrot.

“Yeah, yeah” he said, “who could have given her that idea?”

“Now, because of this comment that said teacher made,” Jack continued, “our coach had to be notified of such a comment and had to begin a tiny, curious and innocent investigation.”

“Nothing big, very tiny.”

“And since this investigation, silly as it may be, had to be conducted, a dorm check had to be made, which lead to a few confiscations.”

I was getting bored.

“What kind of confiscations,” I asked.

“I’m very glad you ask,” Darren said, “they only a few small things like some german pictures, a Hitler imposed confederate flag, some of our stashes of our coke, and our two magnums.”

The last few items sent some chills down through me. I stared back at Jack holding my book, and what now look curiously like a hunger building up in his eyes. Looking back at Darren, I noticed something similar. A seething, drooling look of frustration and disgust that seemed to splash into each other, and bearing down on me its distasteful weight of blame.

Right now, I didn’t care about my book. I needed to get out of here. I needed to get out now.

Darren pinned back to the tree as I try to get up, and pushed a six shooter to my rib. Jack kept a casual walk around us, nodding to a conversation that was not happening anymore. How much more obvious can you look, watching for any security that might come by.

Yet, people were walking by without taking notice of what Darren was doing. Walking, going through their own lives and focus on their own task. They had a the right to walk past, but wasn’t anyone going to help with my task, to stay alive!

I wanted to scream out, because that should have been a smart move. Give the people the benefit of the doubt, that in reality they really were stupid to believe that Darren was doing nothing, so they needed at least one scream to let them know the truth. The fact that I was in danger and I needed someone to rescue me.

I open my mouth, as wide as I could, and sucked in as much air as I could breathe. From my gaping maw, a stream of breeze and toothpaste breath streamed out. Nothing else. As I try to try again to shout, more silence spewed out of me. No matter how hard I wanted to, I could not utter a single sound. the gun under my ribs seemed to have pushed out all the noise out of me, or Darrens grip on my neck was stopping me from making any sound.

Most likely, I was more afraid than I ever was in my life, and I couldn’t do anything.

“My life was fine,” Darren growled, “I had my mistakes, I had my own ideals, but nothing was going wrong. Basketball, business, fans and a girlfriend. It was all held together, nothing was falling apart. Yet one small comment brought it all down. I can’t blame the teachers or the coaches or the security, cause they were only doing what they had always been doing when my world was great. The only one that made the disaster possible, with a small different concern was you!”

Darren slid the gun higher, under my chin, the shiny tube was burning my mouth and sealing my voice shut.

“If you live, my life will never work.”

I could see his fingers pulling tighter. Any second the trigger will blow the bullet. It would travel straight through my head, silencing my thoughts. All my dreams and wants, All my desires and breath would be taken away in a small grey firework display of my brains splattered on the tree. Before I could write, before I could travel, I would die.

I can’t.

I pushed him with all I had, every muscle I had, every breath I had. Every dream and desire and urge to live that was inside of me pushed Darren away.

Darren disappeared. Or rather, he flew so far away that he was gone for a split second. He was rolling yards away, he and his gun, far away from me. Now, with him there, I felt safe. Safe, and confused.

My body felt great, but funny and extremely uncomfortable. I felt like every blood and nerve in my body was on fire. I was a walking, consuming flame. For a moment I felt like I could burn anything that I touch. Yet, it was not tearing me apart, like how a fire breaks apart a tree. I felt, energy surging through me.

I didn’t like this, yet it felt good.

I look down at my hands, and for a moment I thought I could see the flames that was burning me up. My hands were covered in a shimmer, like a mirage in a dessert. A tiny pulse sphere of energy, I think. I didn’t know what else to call it. As I shook my hands, the sway of the shimmer followed the rhythm of my hands.

Jack stared at my hands as well, unable to comprehend what had happen. In the distance Darren was getting up. I couldn’t hear what he was saying, but a good guess was that he was telling Jack to get me. Only a guess, but I might be right. Jack turned back at me, tossing the bottle aside, and tried to rush me.

In a frenzy, I pushed my hand out, hoping to stop him. As I did, the shimmer from my hands lept out and smashed against Jack, causing him to fly off just like Darren. He flew across the street until he landed against a tree, a few yards away.

Right now everyone had stop to stare at what I had done. It was a bit irritating. Earlier people were fine walking past Darren when he had a gun out under my chin. But now, after I made myself safe, only now did people started to stop and watch what was not important to their own lives.

Farther down the street where Jack had landed, a few of the basketball players had arrived and help him up. No need to guess what they were saying. I grabbed my bag and took off as fast as I could.

Running past the buildings. I was running past the classrooms. I ran past some students. Couple times I had ran right through some people. I was focus now, but I was focus through fear, and I hate that. I couldn’t think of what happen, or where I was going. All I thought now was just to run away as fast as I can. Anyplace would be safe if it did not have Darren there.

I ran past the elevators, and a smoothie stand, and through a street corner, past a corner store, and still I kept running. I ran past another traffic light and raced down another corner. I came up to a crappy looking bookstore, and raced behind it. I slowed down near the back door, and slumped down to the ground. I tried to catch my breath, try to remember what I was doing, even trying to remember who I am.

As I stared down at my hands, I saw that they looked normal again. But the truth was that they weren’t anymore, and the thought came up again.

Who am I?

A shadow fell on top of my face. I looked up to find three men in black jackets looking down at me. Behind them were two of the basketball players that helped out Darren. The three men stared at me with an indifferent gaze, as if they were looking at an insect to inspect. It was a bit insulting, but it was more so uncomfortable.

“You sure he is one of them?” One of the black jackets asked.

“Sir,” one of the basketball players said, “he was using Ki! We all saw what he did with one of our teammates. He sent him flying with one push!”

The man with the jacket stared back at me, this time with a fanged smile like a wolf. For a moment he looked like he was hungry. I was looking at another man that wanted to get me. I was afraid again.

“Very well,” he said, “then let’s finish your training then. Kill Him.”

The basketball players grabbed me, a nervous looking smile growing on their faces. They brought me up and pinned me to the wall, while the other two men began punching my stomach.

They felt like iron hammers, smashing into my body. My ribs felt like cracking, and my stomach was full to bursting. Every blow hurt. I felt a minute of my life being smashed out of me with every punch, and they kept coming. I was starting to realize that they were punching time out of me, pushing me closer to my end. My eyes began to dim, and my throat was screaming for a breath. But every time I try to breath, they punch the air out of me. For some reason my vision started to turn red, and everywhere I look I was seeing red.

Blood. I was seeing my own blood. I could feel the blood bleeding through my eye. I could feel the blood pushed through my pores. I get what was happening. They were doing what their leader told them. They weren’t beating me, they were killing me.

I was dying. Not again.

I try to feel the same that I did when Darren threaten me. I try to feel the same burning sensation through my body. Slowly my hands started to shimmer again, building up a flame once again. One more time, if it saved my life before then it needs to save me again.

I need to live.

I pushed the energy back out again, and blew the players off my shoulders. They smash against the walls of the buildings, flying past the jacket men. I was free, I could run off again.

But now I felt more tired than ever, as if those blast were my last few breaths of energy that I had left. I dropped back to the ground, but before I could the jacket men brought me back up again. The man who talked before, possibly their leader, walked close to my face. My eyes were still blurred with red, but I still saw a terrifying sight. His teeth were sticking out like fangs, and his face was stretch like a small mask over a much too big body. What was worse, his eyes were reptile slits. He did not have anything human in his eyes. He could not be human.

“We found a real, genuine catch,” he said, “Someone who has natural talent. This one can become dangerous, so hurry up and kill him.”

The jackets began again, punching and smashing me. This time I saw the blood fly out of my mouth, yet I could not feel it. I couldn’t feel any burning sensation or raging desire to live. I was cold, and I could not more. This time I was really dying, and I could not do anything about. I couldn’t feel anything anyway, I was too tired to feel pain.

Not much else that I could do. I could not write in an escape, or imagine a way out. I couldn’t make the shimmer again, and I couldn’t think of life no more. I let my eyes close, and wait for my breath to leave me.

This was reality.

I waited as I brought in each breath, every air that filled me kept ushering a closer end. I even stop feeling the punches. I waited patiently to stop thinking, for it to end. It already felt like it ended. Let it end already.

I looked up to my doom, with a small curious thought as to why it was taking so long to die. I wanted to look again at those reptile eyes and see my death.

Instead, I saw him.

There was a man in front of me, wearing a casual black shirt with a dragon on top and baggy black denim jeans. His shaggy, short hair covered over intense eyes that burn in every direction he turn. But what was most astonishing was the shimmer that covered my hands seem to engulf his whole body. From head to toe, he was covered in the same burning look. And against the walls, all with a look of dread and fear, were the jacket people.

The men rushed at him, striking with their fists and their feet. Flurrys of kicks and punches surrounded the man, attacking from every angle possible.

But nothing hit the stranger. He was able to block every attack that was thrown at him. Whether it was six simultaneous punches or various kicks coming in from everywhere, he was able to block them all.

When they saw that their attacks were not working, I saw their fists began to shimmer with that dangerous, burning glow. I try to call out to the man, tried to warn them of the danger that was coming. That horrible glow, power unrelentless, was coming straight towards him. My hand started to burn, burning with a fear of their attacks, and the rage against them for the beatings I took.

I look down at my hands, and saw that the blasted shimmer had come back once again. For a split second I wished it never had come to me, this strength yet a curse. But there was obviously no time for any thoughts now. If I had one more shot, I was going to use it.

My voice came back to me, and I yelled “Get down!”

The man looked behind me, and stood still with a smile.

I let my hands out in instinct, and watch in horror as the energy from my hands lept out and flew straight at him. Damn! A rescuer had come, and now I was shooting at him!

The surge of energy rushed out, closing in quickly, until at last he struck its target.

The men in jackets were hit with the full blast of the shimmer, and was struck against the wall once again.

But the stranger had disappeared, gone from all sight.

They staggered back up, some of them were shaken and could hardly find their footing. They looked around to see where he had went. I was looking for him to, since I was sure that I was going to hit him.

“Nice blow kid.”

I stared behind me. There he was, shimmering in that glow, standing right behind me as if he had stayed there the whole time. The men rushed over, their fangs and slitted eyes were a horror that rocked me. I lifted my hands again, but nothing happen. No more shimmers, and they were coming closer. With dripping mouths and red eyes tearing us, they looked like they were going to devour us.

I look to the stranger once again, but found him gone once more. I turned back to see one of the men caught in his grip, hanging by his neck and dangling like a caught fish. The man tossed him into the air, and as the jacket slowly came down the stranger launched multiple punches, more than I could even count.

One of the other men rushed over to his left, hoping that he was too distracted to see him. Yet again he disappeared into thin air, the previous jacket falling flat on his face. Out of nowhere he appeared behind the second man and elbowed the back of his head. Another split second disappearance, reappearing in front of him with his palm on his chest. A small push, yet the man went flying back into the building, busting in a hole that he became stuck in.

The stranger had beaten two of the men, both of which would have killed me had he not stepped in. They were using the same shimmer that I used, but I saw a lethal intent that rendered me motionless with fear, and yet he beat them all easily. I had no idea what to make of this man. Who was he? What can he do? What is he?

My mind was flooded, and I nearly could not breath for a moment. The suffocation was rising in me like a flood, every breath I took was drowning me. I tried to look up, and I saw the man with the slitted eyes staring back at the stranger, filled with fear. His buddies were flayed in the wall and he stands alone now. Still, no matter how much he looks weaker by himself, I was still filled with a sense of dread when I stared at him. The stranger walked toward him, his body was covered again in that shimmer, a walking flame. Looking at him, I was thinking of awe, and yet uncertainty.

A man with demon eyes. A man on fire.

None of them were human. The thought rolled me over, kicking me stomach in and choking my head. As I fell to the ground, trying to catch my breath, I could only breath out my last words to the darkness taking me.

“I’m not human either.”

The darkness was not as bad as most people have said before, in their songs and stories that portrayed a phobia of the shadows. It did not feel cold or chilling. There was no dread or fear filling the space. The darkness felt warm, and surprisingly soft. I was rocking in a rain cloud that did not soak me in water, if that could even make sense, and yet it felt like that. I could not see anything, so what was there to be afraid of? I did not feel anything, so what did I have to dread? I laid deeper in the vastness, no matter what it was. It felt good.

On the horizon, barely peeking past my blinded scope of the distance before me, I saw a dawn breaking its way into my hiding place.

A sun, bleeding red, broke the horizon with its slitted circle, glaring at my refuge with a hunger.

I could hardly scream when my eyes snapped back open.

I had no idea what I saw in my dream, but my fear ran faster than my breath could catch up with. I was vaguely aware that I was in a bed, and around me were shelves. I might have seen a window not to far from me. I might be in a room, but I could not understand where I was. I tried to breathe in, tried to regain my senses. Yet, my mind was blocked, locked down by that vision, a hinderous and hideous picture of a pair of red eyes that would eat me if I go to sleep one more time.

A door opened up somewhere in the room, and a shadow walked by me. I pretty sure he was saying something, but I could not hear anything this person was saying. It was as if the eyes that were trying to tear me apart had put their hands over my ears, stopping me from hearing anything. It was stopping me from reaching out to anyone.

I tried to move, try to acknowledge who came in, but my body could not move. I simply stared into the blanket, staring into a small emptiness, feeling the eyes bearing down behind me.

Whoever was here now, that person quickly rushed over to my side. I knew at least that much. As I sat there, I began feeling some pricking through my neck, then by my arms. Needles, or senbon pins. The word acupuncture pushed itself into my thoughts. And with that one push, a pictures of needles poking my body, the room began to clear up before my eyes. Slowly I began to see the shelves, and even the books stacked on top. I could see the window to my left, and the street lights streaming through the curtains. Slowly I began to understand that it must be close to 7:00. My eyes were waking up, coming back to life.

Yet, the fear of those eyes did not let go, and thought I could see again, I still could not move.

At that moment, I felt a hand slapped down on my head, and a warmth poured over me. I had a silly thought that an egg had cracked on top of me, but even that disgusting thought was more welcoming than the eyes on my shoulders.

And those very eyes that had once pinned me down, paralyzed and terrified, was fading away as the warmth from my head flowed down through my body. My neck could feel again, my hands could feel again, my stomach could feel again. Slowly more breath began to flow through my nose, and my mouth gasped at last, drinking every drop of air that I could take in. My voice was invigorated once more as at last I cried out.


I felt like my spirit was grateful by the smack of life on my head, and I thanked the person by saying “ow.” I was so lame.

Still, I was grateful, and I quickly tried to move my head and face the person that brought me back to life, that saved me from the eyes. But when I moved my neck, I found that it was still stuck in place, unable to move due to the needles in my neck.

“Hey man,” I said, “I still can’t move my neck. The needles, could you take them out, please?”

I felt a few come out of my arms, then from my back. Finally the needles in my neck came off, and I was at last able to turn. I was face to face with the man from the alley, the stranger that fought off my demon chasers. I was not surprised at all, but rather I was eclipsed with a sense of awe of this man. My rescuer and my healer, who glowed in the same frightful fires that I had in my hands.

They were still around. My heroes.

“It’s you,” I breathed out, “you took out those guys. I….man, I have so much questions. No, no, I am grateful for what you did. You, you really saved me, and I…”

“Get out and go home.” He said.

The man rose from his seat, and walked over to the door. He opened the door and walked down what sounded like stairs, completely come from my sight.

I sat in the growing shadows in the room. All alone.

Did my hero just stiff my thank you?!?!?!?!

I jumped out of the bed and ran to the door, rushing down the stairs and jumping five steps at a time. I finally landed on the ground floor, and found myself in a bookstore that we were behind earlier. It was a strange coincidence that the fight was behind his store, but the thought that my rescuer had just brushed me aside filled me up with a surprising rage that consumed every thought that I had.

He went over to the door, and opened it up. I try to catch up to him before he could walk out.

“Wait, hold on!” I said, “I was trying to thank you, and you just push me…”

When I reached him, he grabbed my back and pushed me out the door A soft click came from the door when I was outside.


I went back to the door and pounded it as hard as I could.

“Hey!” I shouted, “let me back in!”

“You are bothering the neighbors,” I heard behind the door, “go home.”

“I need to talk to your!” I said, “Who else can I talk to? Please open up.”

I kept banging on the door, but I could not hear anything inside.

“Please,” I said, “open up.”

Now I did not know what I was feeling. I tried to keep calm, I tried to patiently wait to see if he would come back to the door again. But my mind was past being stable. My emotions were running wild, and all my thoughts were lost. My hands were on fire, people tried to kill me, and they were demons at that. My only rescuer was also on fire, and was probably the only man that can make any sense to me, and he slammed a door in front of my face.

Too much. It was too much for me.

My head snapped.

“I said open the door please!”

I pounded the door one more time, and for a split second on saw the shimmer once more. My fist smashed against the door, and it flew off the hinges. I stared in surprise at what I had done, surprised and embarrassed. Inside I could see the man, and he had on his face a look of pure fury.

“I, uh…...shit.”

I stared down with a bit of shame, afraid to look up. But when I did look, I found him gone. I turned to every corner, searching for any sign of him, but he was gone. When I stared back at the bookstore, he slipped right in front of my nose. The shimmer was around his body once more, with a relentless wrath coming out of his eyes. I nearly screamed in terror, but he grabbed my neck. At once, I felt a giant pull, that nearly ripped my head from my body, dragging me upwards. The speed left my eyes blanking out in darkness.

In a split second I felt him throw me to the hard ground, covered in roofing titles.

Roofing tiles?

I looked around again, and realize that we were on top of a building. I looked over the edge and discovered a dizzying twelve story drop. I crawled away from the edge, as far away as I could. The man stared out into the city, though I could not tell if he was looking at the city lights or the stars in the sky. I was simply motionless. I hoped that he was calming down, maybe pausing to consider the answers he could have for me. But when he turned his face back to me, it was still a scary look.

“Here is the short story,” he replied, “there are some really bad people out there that can kill you, and there are idiots like me trying to stop them. That kind of war, that kind of life, flat out sucks, and I have no intentions of having you pull yourself into this’

‘But if you really want to fight in this suicidal battle, then I feel the moral obligation to destroy your legs, so that you can find some safe refuge in a hospital.”

I lifted myself from the ground, staring back at him.

“They will come after me regardless if I’m in a hospital!” I said, “Some of those men are my classmates! There is no place I can go to that is safe now, except maybe you!”

I felt a stirring in my blood, and this time I was not surprised to see the flames on my fists This time, I welcomed it. I clench my fist, holding on to the surge growing in me again, and I watch as the flame traveled from my hands and up my arms, nearly licking the corners of my face. I look back at the man, I saw a small awe building in his eyes. In a small instant, I felt confident, and proud of myself. For the first time in my life I was aware of the potential I could have, and it made me smile.

“You really think I will be safer in a hospital? You think that your violence can send me away? Well, I guess it would be fine to say that my violence can get my answers from you by beating them out of your face!”

I sprinted towards him, shouting and wailing. I don’t even know why. I was afraid, and angry, and confused, and excited. A thrill spread through me in a way that I had never felt before. A higher adrenaline rush from reading, a high that felt more intense than traveling to other countries.

This was my first fight, my first fight that I wanted to be in, and I was enjoying this more than all my past pleasures, eclipsed completely by the agony of a wanting in smashing this mans face. And maybe that is the reason why men always get into fights, not for noble reasons or necessity, but for the thrill. The craving. The desires.

I don’t know if that is true or not, but a part of me thinks it is. Mainly because as I rushed up to this man, I saw in his eyes a shine of pleasure to. His wrath and his rage slowly began to melt away in the shimmer of his aura once again, and his fist raised up with an expected welcome for my own.

I saw the preparation, and the glee, happen so slowly in my mind, despite the reality of the split second that it took for me to sprint up to him. Even our raised fist seemed to move in a pace that lasted for eternity. Our smiles beamed in one felt like forever.

But the collision, that felt like a second.

Our punches smash into each other, and a wave of pain ran through my arm. I could hear everything break, and I could feel every inch of my arm collapsed in response to his punch. I yelled out in pain, agony mixed with suffering was all that I wanted to shout out. Yet, I held on to that power. I felt the fire of confidence still burning in me. I was afraid, but I did not retreat. My passion pushed harder then my dread, and I stayed in my ground despite the pain.

I stared back with a relentless determination, gritting my smile until I could feel my teeth grind. The pain was insane, but I would not move. I did not want to move. The shimmer of our energies rushed around us like a hurricane, whipping at my face. I could still feel the push from his punch, a wall of bricks bearing its full weight over every crack in my bones.

I could feel the tiles of the roof rip apart, my feet scraping the tiles as I was being pushed back. Every step that the man took meant another part of the roof being torn off, using my body as the shredder while I am being pushed back farther and farther to the edge of the roof. The blows from the energies were starting to scrape against my face. My arms were crumbling as the moments slowly pass. The seconds were melting my bones away.

As my arms began to tear away, my feet bleeding under the crushing pressure, and even as my body screamed from the torture of this one moment. Despite all of the pain, I was enjoying the fervent pleasure of this fight. The man continued to push me back with a smile on his face that was irritating yet contagious, and despite the inevitable defeat that was bashing me into the depths of this roof, I think my smile was bigger than his.

In the midst of everything, I was in love with every moment and every power that was flowing through me now. Even up to the moment when his punch at last broke my arm, smashing into my chest. Even when I could feel my ribs breaking apart as if they were ribbons. I was in love with every moment as I flew away, closing my eyes.

I even loved the moment when my other hand rushed out and gave him a surprising, satisfying crack against his nose.

I was laughing, until I finally arrive in my comfortable and familiar darkness.

The darkness was the same, and so the stillness of the empty horizon. This time, however, I was covered in pain. There was no fluffy clouds, or comfy soft seats. My chest hurts, my arms hurt, and I was pretty sure that my dignity had noticeable bruises. I was feeling horrible as I lay flat on that roof. Yet, no matter the reality of my broken body, I felt great. Maybe it was people call the soul, or heart, or spirit. Whatever they called it, that part of me was happier then I had ever been in a long time.

The man came over me, with his bloody nose and silly face. His face was stern once again, but at least it wasn’t in a fit of rage anymore. And in his eyes I saw a brighter light than in the bookstore, a light that I hope was an uplifting, even accepting gaze. He walked over to me, and planted a seat near my head. I could hear him breathing as hard as I was, but with less desperation.

“You want me to answer your questions?” he began, “Well, to be honest you got me a bit curious as well. I answer your questions, you answer mines. Does that sound fair?”

I inch my face towards his voice, leaning towards the right as much as I can.


“What? I should bash your body in more for saying something so stupid. Why would you give an answer like that?.”

He had a point. One more smack from him could actually kill me, and my body was near the point of breaking down. Yet somehow, I couldn’t let up now. Slowly I push myself off of my back, pushing myself up from my arms until I was sitting side by side with him. I could scream right now, but I came this far in learning about my new passion that I had never felt before. And I was not going to let this go.

“Train me” I said.

The man looked back at me with slight hints of disbelief. Yet, for a moment, I thought I saw a look of excitement. Maybe he knew I was going to ask that, and all he did was waited for me to say it out loud. Or maybe he was annoyed.

“I told you no,” he said, “those people, and war, and endless fights will consume you. There will be no peace in this life, until your death, and it will either be by the hands of them or by the cold and decrepit arms of regret.”

I moved my head to face him, no matter how broken it felt.

“Yeah, I would probably get killed,” I said, “yet I don’t think it will be regret that will kill me.’

‘I lived, and I studied. I had joy in books, and I was content in writing. I have dreams of being a writer, and dreams of traveling. Life was simple, and it followed an easy track.But now, everything has changed. You make escape sound easy, but it seems more complicated to run away then to stay.’

‘Although, my problems is not what has changed. My blood has tasted something beyond what I had ever imagined. Greater than all the books I have read. My body is yearning for more, to gain more power, thirsty for more strength. If I were to leave all this now, all the new excitement in the heat of the battle, then regret would truly kill me.’

‘Please, if I go now then I would truly die. I want to know what I can do, and I want to know what I am. I want to grow strong. Please, please train me.”

He stared at me, staring and thinking. I don’t know if he was amazed, or if he thought I was a liar. We stayed until the the sky started to rain. Even then, we still did not move. I could not describe what was going on. It was awkward, random, and past any description. We were staring each other in the rain, after fighting with an unexplainable power.

The man sighed, at last giving in to a smile.

“Well, then welcome to a life in hell.”

“And I am more than happy to be accepted, my Master.”

“Jeez, that was pretty corny. At least be a student that is appropriate to this age. Let me know your name first.”

My pain was slowly starting to lift up as this man began to at last accept me. A joy began to fill in me that pushed back my brokenness, awakening in me a new dream and future.

“My name is Anjyl Xu”

The man got up from his seat and walked to the front of me. He placed his hands on my head,taking care to have two fingers on his forehead.

“I am Kado Acas, disciple of Master John Jiang of the Yin style Baguazhang, Master of Ki Planes Walking. I have seen your heart, and watch your passion. There is a great fire in you, a fuel to temper the steel of skills you may learn in this life. Harden your heart, and gild your spirit. From this moment on, I accept you as my student, and I will train you in the styles of Baguazhang and Wing Chun. Behold, you shall learn the arts of Ki, to take hold of all it’s wonder, it’s terror, and it’s doom.”

I looked up once again, with a smile.

“Master,” I said, “ not doom. I look forward to a new dawn.”


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