Auria

Chapter 6 - Meditation

Auria ran inside and fell to the floor, clinched arms around bent knees and rested on her rear.  Low body fat forced her to reposition again and again.  She’d heard one of the saddest stories in her life and now, disallowed this simple hiatus of sitting to lament.  Rolling to her back, she spied the servant standing above holding another covered dish and casually looking away.  A hysterical laugh came over her from nowhere.

“You must eat.” said the servant.

“Why?  What is this life for?” she asked.  “Why is it that when we win, we also lose?”

“Our Master will guide you… if you let him.”

“And who guides him?  Why is he Master and yet, the All-Wisdom are his Master?”


He looked down to the floor where she lay, remarking the beauty in her posture.  Sad eyes followed, reminding one of his position in life.

“Why are drops of rain so precious, yet a torrent of rain so despised?” he asked.  “Why are we excited to leave a place, yet yearn to return?  Why must we search for a lifetime and never find what we are looking for?  It’s because it is here.”  He held a hand to his chest.  “And here.”  Holding a hand against his head, he winked, sat the dish on the table and quietly left.


Auria stood, picked up the dish and returned to the tiny room across the way.  Lines of men stood in the rain neglecting to see yet, doing nothing.  She surmised they waited for her to leave, but continued to watch them through the room’s open door.  They marched in single file into the meal hall.  She, too, began to eat, knowing they each shared and sacrificed together in harmony.  Then, a terrible pain struck.  Not having eaten in so long had brought its own misfortunes.  The Master returned.

“I haven’t had pains like this since I was a little girl.” she moaned.

“We have a cure for everything yet, I have no answer for you this day.” said the Master.

Auria laughed.  Even in the fits of pain, she knew she’d won a small victory because he'd answered her question - and would continue.

“What is your real name?” she asked.

“That does not matter.  What matters is your training.  Will you accompany me into the training hall?”

“Not unless you tell me your real name.  There are no more secrets here.”


The man in black walked away, only to return a few minutes later.

“Gen.  My name is Gen’ichi Yamagata.  I am a warrior and a human being.  Simply Gen.  What is your given name?”

“Auria, the loneliest name ever bestowed.  I was never given a last name because... I don’t know why.  My Mother’s name was Ashlynn.  She passed.  I never... really... knew my Father.”

“I am sorry for your losses in life.  My own Father pushed me to...” he paused, lamenting.  “To study Martial arts and to compete… many years ago.  It all began...”


A young boy fell on the sidewalk.  Many people came to help and hovered around the boy.  An arm reached from the concrete, the boy's.  He peered into a growing darkness and saw a butterfly hovering, all alone.  Flapping wings scattered into whispers of light as he swept in and out of consciousness.  The boy held an arm high above, reaching toward the light, taking hold of something which wasn't there.

“He has no pulse.” said a woman.

A man pushed through the crowd carrying a yellow box.  He stripped open the little boys shirt, placed wires on his chest and pushed a button.  The small boy shook violently, still holding the arm high, even when they tried to push it to the ground.

“Still, no pulse.  Do it again.”

Streaks of invisible lightning became visible to the boy, zapping his conscious soul with ever-increasing jolts of electricity.  He witnessed the inside of his own brain reprocessing everything, reorganizing itself to store and learn from the events.  The voltage slowed in his mind, becoming a simple plaything.  He pushed it aside with thoughts, commanding it to leave his body.  The man reached down, grabbed the wires and slumped over in a surge of electricity.  A smile emerged, yet the boy remained unconscious.

“My son.  Is he alright?”

“I don't know.” said another.  “The paramedic...  Something happened to the paramedic.”


The boy eventually became known for exhibiting violent behavior.  A group of boys sat in a line of chairs inside the head-master's office when the Father entered the room.  The smiling boy sat on one side, all by himself.  The other boys all wore purple rings circling their left eyes.

“Gen'ichi must no longer attend this school.” said the head-master.  “I suggest you find another way to deal with these atrocious, violent outbursts.”


The boy had grown, finding himself wearing a white uniform - a student of the martial arts.  Lines of men stood around a red, circled ring painted on the floor.  The boy standing in the circle faced a grown man wearing black.  The man also wore two purple rings around his eyes.  He failed to defend when the boy sent a foot into his mid-section and a flying fist into his nose.  The man fell face-first while the Father looked on, taking another drink from a metal flask.  A glimmer soaked both eyes and a loud smirk shot over his face.  He patted the boy on the back as he held a roll of paper money tightly in the other hand.


A man with a long, white beard sat with two purple-ringed eyes shut completely.  The boy faced him, also sitting, eyes closed.  Two men crept from behind carrying metal poles and swung, striking the boy's head.  Someone carried him to a van where another man placed metal wires upon his bare chest.  In a burst of light, the boy became conscious and gasped.


In a quiet, hospital bed with wires sprung from his chest, he began to see things within the room as translucent, barely visible.  A machine sitting close to the bed revealed a pulsating line.  The sounds began to slow, the numbers descending from 20, to ten, to five, and finally, one.  The green line flattened, leaving a heavy, solid tone.

In the darkening room grew a simple butterfly, fluttering and flapping here and there.  The growing insect flew skyward, circling the bed as it sailed.  The boy reached out and grabbed it, smashing its wings, dusting the sparkles against clothing.  The dust grew into balls of glitter.  Each burst, falling away from him.  His Father stood slowly, looking to the machine while the boy walked everywhere within the room, trying to understand.  He failed to notice his own son standing beside him.

“Father?” said the boy.  The man didn't answer.
“Father?  Did you see that huge butterfly?”


The man still didn't respond, but stared across the room.  The boy heard his own movements echo, but no sounds from the rest of the hospital.  He sat on the corner of the bed, lowered his head, and stumbled, then face-planted against a bed rail.

The machine revealed a pointed line moving slowly across a green screen.  The father leaned forward slowly to reach for the boy.  A faint dab of blood dripped from a hole between teeth.  He reached for the tooth while swallowing a mouthful of blood.

“Geeeeeen,” said the father in a low, drawn-out tone, “Arrrre yoooou allllrrriiighttt?”

“No.” said the boy, still coping with the event.


A teenage boy sat in the middle of the road, eyes closed.  A speeding car came toward him, blaring the horn and flashing lights.  It veered, swerving to miss him entirely.  He disappeared as the car passed, then returned.  The boy laughed, holding a handful of money and a nice wrist-watch.  The car continued to speed off into the distance.

Gen's mind cleared for a moment, allowing him to continue.  Auria stood before him waiting for a reply.

“I only wish it hadn’t been so.” he said.  “I would have made an excellent Chef.  My life would have been... better.”

“I’ll do as you ask… as long as you treat me like a human being.  Don’t make me hate you.”

“You're a woman.” he winked.  “You have already won this game.”

Auria covered her belly and farted so loudly, she quickly sat back down again, regretting everything she’d said and done.

“We’re only human.” she laughed.

“Yes.  You are.”


Master Gen led Auria to another room across the yard.  Several men waited without shirts or long pants.  She took a moment to admire their physiques, but soon lost the moment, frowned and punched a cupped hand.

“I can’t even enjoy myself,” she said, “not since you’ve poured that devilish talk of dying on my head.”

Master Gen held a hand above the entrance, forming an archway for her to enter the massive room.  She noticed the ceiling rose higher than the others, then felt a small tug behind the head, followed by a stiff breeze touching the back of her neck.  Chill bumps ran down both arms.

“It’s cold in here.” she said.  “So, this is the training room?”

Master Gen held a fistful of long, red hair in one hand, a short dagger in the other.  He quickly handed them to a servant and joined Auria beneath the tall ceiling.  She hadn’t noticed the missing hair.

“Now what?” she asked.  “When do we start?”

“Breathe deeply.  We begin with breathing and meditation.”


Gen sat on the floor, crossing legs and closing eyes.  Auria tried to sit down in front of him, though she took her sweet time, almost sitting, but not quite doing so.

“This floor is going to hurt.  How do you do it?”

Gen swept across the floor in slow motion.  The passage of time paused for everything else, excepting the figure in black.  He slapped each side of her butt with an open hand.  She turned round and round for a moment and failed to notice, finally sitting on her rump and crossing legs.  Smiling to Gen for instructions, she saw him sitting quietly with closed eyes.

“That’s much better.  It feels almost numb down there.  I don’t know what it is here.  This floor sits softer?”

“Shhh.”

“So, how do we meditate?”

Master Gen pushed himself toward her, feet first, passing Auria on her left.  He grabbed her throat as he slid, pulling Auria a short distance alongside.  Her face reddened and veins bulged along the neck.  Time seemed to slow down in her mind just before a complete loss of consciousness.

“You are welcome.” said Gen.


Auria breathed patiently, open hands facing the ceiling, though still gracing the white, marble floor.  She awoke with an acute awareness, a random surge of mental pictures and a feeling of having been there before.  Gen meditated at her left.  He didn’t move, nor breathe, she thought.

“I… Ugh, never mind.”

Gen grinned and winked.  She sighed and breathed deeply.

“How long must we meditate?”

Gen lunged forward and punched Auria in the chest, then grabbed an arm, pulling her closer.  As her chest paralleled his, he chest-punched two more times, hitting dead center with a right and left knuckled fist.  She barely saw anything, barely felt anything, but an expressionless face began to droop and sway.

“What happened?” she slurred.

“You must learn to meditate.  I’ve stopped your heart.  Feel its rhythm, taste this moment... feel... everything.”


She saw everything clearly, every item within the room. Gen began to blink and his blink stopped halfway nearing completion.  One solitary pulse expanded within her chest, one breath began and continued for an eternity, pulling in air until she realized it had become a gasping for breath.  Auria found herself falling backwards.  The room spun round and round so slowly.  She became helpless to stop the fall, but still felt a hyper-awareness of everything that had taken place.

Finally, laying on her back and straightening both limp legs, the need for breathing ceased.  A strange tunnel formed in both eyes, closing in to encompass the light from every side.  The life she'd already lived returned – memories, to replace the life which was.  Flashbacks flowed from all directions, ten at once piling into a numbing psyche.  She focused on what she thought to be a single task, fought back the bad memories and found herself waking, though still dreaming, from deep within a hideous, nightmarish memory.


Master Gen rested inside her arms, red from the tip of his face downward.  Temples bulged and eyes widened, greeting darkened pupils.  Graying hair failed to hide a pulsing surge of red beneath.  He grunted, forcing a spit bubble between thick, blue lips.  She held him as a baby, yet squeezed both hands around his narrow neck.  He smiled, nonetheless.  She released grasping fingers and thumbs, one at a time.

Catching his composure to sit forward, he caught one good breath and began to show signs of pale skin.  She continued her dark-eyed stare and hyper-aware condition; seeing, yet feeling his vibe for any reaction.

“Your strike was quick, though instinctive.” he said, wrenching his own neck.  “But, you lack concentration.  I will teach you this.  The gift of death is a powerful tool when used wisely.”