Three years ago. Remy's house.
I brought the bokken down hard against the makiwara, the firm, sturdy straw trunk. The dry sound of the impact echoed, but I stopped the blow a centimeter from the target, just as the kendo sensei had instructed us. It was an exercise in precision - controlling the force of the impact without destroying the target, feeling the reaction, the flow of the movement. Two thousand blows that way. My arm was throbbing, sweat was running down my forehead and my breathing was heavy. I sighed, tired, gave a few more final blows, a rhythm that seemed eternal.
Finally, I let go of the bokken, my heart pounding, a bittersweet sensation of relief and challenge. Stepping heavily, I stepped into the shower, feeling the cold water hit my hot skin, washing away not only the sweat, but all the tension built up from training.
Meanwhile, the world seemed to be spinning outside, full of the small wonders of routine. My father, in the corner of the room, was shaping metal figurines with his calloused hands, each piece a silent work of patience. My mother, on the other hand, seemed like an invisible dancer among the chaos of the kitchen.
She meditated in the midst of the rush: while reading books on Feng Shui and Chinese yoga, she cooked scrambled eggs and pancakes, while talking on the phone with a calm that I could never imitate. When she asked me for the egg and it slipped out of my hands, I could almost see the world slow down - with impressive precision, my mother lowered her head, stretched out her toes and, as if by magic, caught the egg without dropping it.
Without interrupting the conversation, she blinked, passed the egg from her feet to her hand, quickly washed it and went back to cooking as if nothing had happened.
Sometimes I think that this is the true art of control - not bokken, not makiwara, but serenity in the midst of movement.
Smiling, I wrapped the towel around my body and stepped out of the shower. There wasn't much to do at the moment - important business awaited us in the evening. It was then that my eyes fell on a book on Feng Shui, full of Chinese characters, lying forgotten on the back of the chair. I thought to myself: "Why not try something new?"
Later, before going to bed, I followed the instructions in the book for beginners. I sat on the bed in the lotus position, trying to balance my breathing - slow, deep, conscious. I dived into the depths of the mind, as the text said, maintaining that feeling of calm and focus for about twenty minutes. I didn't notice when sleep took me by surprise, gently lulling me to sleep.
The next morning, as I ran to the dojo, I felt a renewed energy, a strange lightness that was unfamiliar to me. I used to always wake up drowsy and irritable - a kind of ungrateful habit that seemed part of me. But that morning was different.
If one deep, concentrated breathing technique had done me so much good, why not try another? Before sparring, I focused my eyes on my opponent and breathed quickly and deeply, bringing oxygen to every corner of my body. I remembered the lesson: "Cut out the unnecessary, focus on the goal."
When the fight started, I felt the adrenaline pulsing strongly in my arms and legs, my head a little dizzy, but something strange happened - my opponent seemed... slower. Everything became easier. I dodged, I attacked with precision, as if I were one step ahead of time.
Inhale - attack. I stepped with dodge - exhale. He wants to attack from above. We defend... Opening!
I feigned a strong blow, but in mid-movement I changed direction and hit his unprotected shoulder. His lightning-fast block failed. He stepped back, stopping the fight, and admitted defeat.
The strange state of concentration gradually dissipated, and suddenly the sounds, sensations and presence of the people around me invaded my mind - leaving me momentarily dizzy, as if I had just woken up from a trance.
There was another type of concentration described in that book - the one my mother used. They called it "dissolving part of your consciousness in the environment". According to the text, this deeply relaxes the brain and leaves the subcortex free to respond to the changes around it, almost like a subtle radar.
The Chinese really are incredible. A lot of what I read in that book about chakras, spiritual energy and that whole mystical vibe seemed a bit implausible - and, let's be honest, maybe even a bit crazy. But hey, when were we ever really normal?
Still, I decided to try something similar. After all, if the whole thing worked for my mother, why not for me? It might work, right?
- Elkaten. Royal Palace. The day after the 134th call. -
After leaving the hall where we were summoned, we were led through endless corridors and grandiose rooms. The palace is huge - it could quietly accommodate the 1,500 people who had been summoned. Each of us was given an individual room.
I got into mine, looked around and threw myself on the bed. I blacked out in an instant. I dreamt of a crystal. I think I'm developing a bit of an obsession with it.
I woke up with a click - instantly. The strangest thing is that, for the first time, I was able to remember the dream. Maybe it's the effect of this "control" I'm trying to understand.
In the dream, I saw huge piles of system errors, a jumble that reminded me of the days when I was interested in programming.
It was still dawn, and soon the palace would begin to bustle with people coming and going.
I sat in the lotus position, calmed my breathing and withdrew from the world around me, diving deep into the layers of my consciousness.
I need to organize my thoughts and understand what to do from now on.
The first thing I need to do is prioritize. I don't want to fight for a comeback, or for immortality - I'm not strong, and I know I'll die quickly. I just want to live in peace, but I doubt I'll be let off that easy. So even if there are no battles, you just don't stand out, you don't despair, you don't get hysterical. Although sometimes a good fight is good for you...
Then there's this "body control" thing. Before, the most I could do was feel the blood flowing through my vessels, paying as much attention as possible. Not anymore - now I feel every detail: how the heart muscle contracts and relaxes, which way each strand of hair turns, how the hemoglobin in the blood carries oxygen to the cells and then takes carbon dioxide back to the lungs.
I feel the cells dying, dividing, their every internal process happening. And, unbelievably, I can control it all.
What do I do with this power? What dirty trick can I invent? None come up. Damn, that sucks.
I felt my slight, almost imperceptible layer of fat above my abdomen. Without hesitation, I broke it down, sending its nutrients through the bloodstream straight to strengthen my abdomen. But... how are muscles born from nutrients? I barely thought about it, and the cells themselves started dividing, multiplying, rebuilding the muscle structure by themselves, as if they knew exactly what to do.
It felt strangely comfortable. I decided to remove some fat from my thighs and, just out of curiosity, created a blood vessel ring in my arm, right at the bifurcation of the arteries. In less than half a second, a new vessel formed there. I wanted everything to go back to normal, and it all dissolved in the blink of an eye, the nutrients returning through the bloodstream to my thighs.
Boy, there's a lot of room for creativity here - any doctor would be envious.
During these crazy experiments, I realized that I can turn off pain, interrupt blood flow, move blood even when the heart stops, control the amount of hormones in the blood, even breathe through the pores without using the lungs, and clean impurities from the blood.
But there's a limit: I can't control dead cells - I can only analyze their structure and break them down. So, in order to prevent them from dying, I need to guarantee enough oxygen for the living cells. And if I make the cells divide too much, they age quickly, get worse, and stop multiplying.
On an impulse, I managed to develop a sixth finger. It was short, fragile because it lacked calcium, and I couldn't move it - I didn't know how to connect the nerves to the muscles in the finger, or how to connect them to the brain. Working with the brain seemed like another level, something purple, while I was in the blue, which is the basic one for defining the algorithm of the skill's actions. In black, they say you can control someone else's body just by touching them.
The outlook was encouraging - I just needed to practise.
I gave the command for my body to return to its original state, came out of deep concentration, and soon noticed someone knocking on the door.