Tsaimath
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Crown of Thorns, Chapter 6
🕑 Added 2019-05-26 09:50:31 +0000 UTC
“...Wake up, Kana, wake up!” I was being shaken and someone called my name, as my mind was slowly struggling back to wakefulness.
Suppressing a yawn, I owlishly blinked, looking at my surroundings. Next to me, a worried looking Sandra was sitting, one hand still on my shoulder from shaking me awake.
“Are you alright? You looked and sounded as if you had a nightmare.” she said, looking worried. I tried to remember if I had dreamed but I couldn’t remember, just a sense of dread at the edge of my being. Shaking my head, I tried to grasp it, but it just melted away, like mist in the sun.
“I think I’m okay. If I had a nightmare, I can’t remember. Where are we?” I asked, still getting my bearings and looking at the endless, plains and fields around us.
“Just behind Kansas City. We’ll have to take a break soon, I need to stretch my legs and get a coffee.” Sandra told me. The information told me that we had passed about forty percent of the way to our destination. We pulled into the next rest-stop with me still trying to remember if there had been a dream but not getting anywhere.
Sandra and I got out of the car and visited the little girls’ room, with me trying very hard to ignore the fact that I was using the ladies’ facilities and that I was seriously missing the ability to easily do my business while standing up.
After we got out, Sandra got herself a coffee and we walked around a bit, loosening up our limbs after the time sitting cooped up in the car. There was a bit of empty lawn and Sandra walked over, with me behind her.
“Your grandfather told me you have some martial arts training, would you mind doing a few exercises with me, I really need to loosen up some.” Sandra said, after inspecting the grass for presents left behind by travelling dogs.
“No, I don’t mind, what do you have in mind?” I asked, curious about the slightly strange request. But I wanted to try out my new body some more anyway, I had noticed some differences in anatomy, especially when it came to the hips and my centre of gravity, but I had yet to do more with it than walk around. There just had been no time.
“Well, a kata or two to loosen up and maybe some light sparring. You up for that?” she asked with a challenging smirk on her face. Somehow, the smirk rubbed me wrong and I wanted to do something about it. So, I nodded and walked onto the lawn, after taking off my shoes and socks. It was how I was trained even if, from time to time, Grandfather had insisted on training with shoes on and in normal clothes instead of a gi. As he put it, “If you need to defend yourself, your attackers will not give you time to change clothes into something you are comfortable fighting in. So, be comfortable in everything you wear.”
Well, I was not yet comfortable in women's clothing, even if the difference was mainly psychological for me, jeans and a t-shirt were jeans and a t-shirt, even if the women’s version was cut a little differently.
Sandra named a standard beginner’s shotokan-kata to warm up, something I had done hundreds of times and we started moving simultaneously next to each other. I noticed that the slight differences I had noticed while walking were more pronounced now, but not to the point that they completely threw me off, it was just slightly different. I was easily able to pay attention and compensate for the changes in anatomy I had undergone. We moved through the easy moves, more stretching and warming up than anything serious and afterwards, Sandra suggested the next kata, also shotokan but more advanced.
Karate was not my main discipline, but still, it was something I had done before and could do again but I had to focus on my own movements, no longer able to assess Sandra’s abilities.
After the second kata, both of us were warmed up and limber, ready to go.
We moved apart a bit, bowing to each other before moving into our combat stances. Hers was textbook karate, balanced and ready for everything. Mine was slightly different, allowing me to instantly shift from the movements of shotokan into the movements of aikido. My plan was to lure her into a trap, wipe that smirk off her face and make her eat grass.
She must have seen the opening I had left and she came for it, balanced and precise movements that spoke of good training and form but also playing directly into the trap I had prepared. Moving in a way no karate-ka would ever move, I got in close, allowing me to grapple her and use her own movement against her. Or so I thought.
Instead of Sandra being unbalanced and toppling to the ground, I was staggering and she even was able to control my fall, lowering me gently to the grass. Well, what was the old saying, pride goes before the fall?
Sandra grinned, now less challenging but more mischievous, the look on her face just saying, gotcha, but it was true, she had gotten me and gotten me good.
“Where did you learn?” I asked, curious about her training.
“At school. While Martial Arts training is not mandatory, it is very much recommended.” she explained, still grinning. Now, it was my turn to be surprised, official, almost mandatory, martial arts training at school and apparently not a strict, single discipline form used for competitions and sport but a more generalist approach?
“Seriously?” I voiced my disbelief.
“Sure, just think about it. Granted, not every Metahuman has a power suited for combat, but let’s just take you as an example and imagine that someone attacked you, after you got your powers but without any training. What do you think would happen?”
There was no real need to think about it, if I was attacked, I would either get scared or angry, probably both. And I had seen the result of my anger, an explosion of purple fire, hot enough to melt rock.
“I would defend myself.” I said, not quite wanting to say the result out loud.
“Yes and you would use your powers for it. In your case, unless you are attacked by a tank or a very durable Metahuman, that means the attacker will be a pile of ash. And, quite likely, so will be the surrounding area. Do I need to spell out why that would be bad?” Sandra had no such compulsion, ripping away the deliberate ignorance I had tried to project.
“But anyway, let’s move some more.” she broke me out of my deliberation with a slow kick towards my side, forcing me to dodge. It was quite obvious just meant to get my attention and that it did. Now that I was more careful and no longer fixated on beating her, I was able to make a better showing of myself and, at the same time, get a better feel for my body. I also realised that Sandra quite good, making me smile. If that was the general level of an academy-graduate, I was really looking forward to the place.
Before either of us got too sweaty, Sandra called an halt to our sparring and we walked over to the rest-stop, getting some food and eating at a picnic table outside. The sandwiches the rest-stop sold were thoroughly mediocre, not completely unpalatable but not great either. But it was food and not too greasy.
Then, exercised and fed, we got back into the car and continued the next part of our journey.
“Before your nap, you asked me what my knack was.” Sandra started, after we got back onto the highway. “The generally accepted term for my knack is called ‘Charm’ and it is just what it sounds like. I’m best when it comes to spells influencing others, especially making them do what I want.” Sandra explained with a sigh.
That sounded incredibly dangerous. There were two types of Metahuman that were portrayed as evil in popular fiction more often than anything else. One type were shapeshifters, people who took on the shape of a loved one after killing them, playing their role and taking over the life of the one they had killed. It was great material for tragedies, the loving partner being forced to finally kill the shapeshifter still in the form of her loved one, great material for the movies.
The other type were Metahumans that messed with ones mind, taking over people and using them for their ends. It was less suited for movies, mind control was not easy to visually depict, but it was great for novels, allowing writers to craft intricate plots in which you never quite knew who the bad guy was until the end, unless the writer left it open, making you wonder and pray for a continuation. I had read my share of mind control-thrillers and was not too keen on having a role in one.
“I thought about not telling you, to be honest, but chances are, there are still materials mentioning me in the academy library and I didn’t want you finding out like that. Your family has entrusted you to me and you trusted me, it felt wrong.” Sandra continued, pulling me out of my thoughts.
“I… I don’t know what to say.” My mind was whirling, had my family been influenced? Had I been influenced? How could I tell if I had been influenced, if she influenced me not to notice?
As my mind was whirling, I remembered that during the dinner, she had been rather emotional when talking about the corruption of power and delinquent young Metahumans. And if her knack was some form of mind control, that made so much sense.
“What did you do? Before going to Potestatem?” I blurted out, before I could stop myself.
“You noticed, didn’t you? Yes, I was talking about myself, yesterday. Well, I was a young woman with the ability to make others agree with me, just by focusing on them, even if they may not have agreed with me otherwise. And yes, I abused that power, mostly to get things I wanted, or to get away with stuff I shouldn’t have. It worked, until I was browsing in an old store, they were selling books and various knick-knacks, some of the stuff quite cool, and found something I liked but could not afford. I wanted it, but could not pay for it, so I tried to make the store owner, a rather old and grizzled guy, give it to me for free.” she explained, sounding quite broken up about it. The regret was palpable in her voice.
“Joke was on me, you know. I, the teenager who had her power for about a month, trying to influence a retired Hero, with ample experience fighting other Metahumans or pretty much everything else for that matter. Luckily, he took it with humour and did not blast me into atoms, which he probably would have managed without breaking a sweat. No, he just quashed my attempt and made me listen. A week later, I was enrolled at the Academy and I’m still grateful.” she finished, her voice sounding quite fond when talking about the old man.
I had a feeling that there was more to it, but I was hesitant to ask about it, she had told me what she wanted me to know about her past and probing would be impolite. But there was something more I wanted to know.
I wanted to ask about her knack, wanted to know more so I could assess my feelings and thoughts, looking for possible interference but if I asked, she could answer me in such a way that I would miss manipulation, if there was any. Either, I would have to trust her sincerity, or I was in big trouble anyway.
So, I would trust her sincerity, if I was wrong, the additional harm would be minor, as I was basically at her mercy at this point.
“Can you tell me more about magic and mystics? You said I might be one, right?” I asked, getting away from the topic of her knack and past transgressions. In addition, I was relatively sure that I was either a mystic or an avatar or maybe a combination, some sort of mystic avatar, if that existed.
For a moment, she was silent, likely due to surprise, before she answered, “Sure, let’s start with the basics again. Mystics absorb Universal Essence and store it, before consciously forming it into spells. Well, mostly, pretty much every Mystic has a speciality, their knack, so to speak, which is the form their essence takes when used without control. If you are a mystic, your knack would undoubtedly be fire, judging by the quite impressive explosions you produced according to Shining Star.”
“How would I know if I’m storing essence?” I asked, trying to find out what flavour of Metahuman I was.
“There is a pool inside you, some say they feel it in their brain or mind, others claim it’s in their heart and I think I’ve heard people say it’s in their gut. Doesn’t really matter where you believe it to be, it is just a mental construct, at least as far as anyone knows. That pool is filled with the essence you have stored and you draw upon it to get things done.”
Curious, I tried closing my eyes and slowed down my breathing, just like I would do for one of Grandfather’s concentration and meditation exercises. When hearing Sandra’s explanation, I had started thinking of the concept called neidan so often used in chinese fantasy literature. Maybe, there was a kernel of truth in the legends on which those stories were based.
Letting my mind drift, I was not brought into contact with some mythological core or a magical wellspring of power, but there was a flash of memory, a memory of another me, standing on a cliff and using some glyphs to manipulate a torrent of purple fire. Just like the flames I had used directly after I had been sacrificed.
I kept that image in mind but wanted it to be smaller, not an all-consuming torrent, but a small flame. I felt something within me move, just a tiny bit and a single, soft word came over my lips, almost a sigh. I knew the meaning, even if not the language. Fire. I had called for fire.
“Stop that! Not in the car!” Sandra barked out and my eyes flew open so see a small, purple flame burn merrily in my hand, only to wink out.
“What have I told you about playing with fire in my car?!” she asked and I wondered if she would start spitting fire.
“Not to do it?” I answered, embarrassed what I had done.
“So, what was that? I think I heard you say a word before the fire started.” her voice was still quite annoyed, but less so than before.
“I tried to look for the well of power you talked about.” I started to explain when I had a feeling that it might be better not to explain everything. “I got a feeling, a feeling that I could call fire with that word. No idea where it came from, but when I spoke the word, well, you saw what happened.”
“Interesting. There are some mystics who use language to guide their power, I wouldn’t recommend it, but it works. Mostly because it takes a lot of time to say even a single word when you are in combat. But, I would ask you to cease further experimentation with your powers while I’m driving. I have little to no desire to burn and crash, or crash and burn, just because you felt a need to play with fire.” her voice held no rancour but it was clear that she would not tolerate disobedience in that.
I held my silence and for the next hour or so, we just listened to music. I still try to find that mythical centre in myself or the spirit that shared my body, but had no luck.
“Say, why are we driving anyway? Wouldn’t flying be much faster?” I asked something that had been bugging me all along.
“Faster? Sure. But there is a couple of problems. Let me ask you, do you have a valid identification document?” she asked.
“Sure, one.”
“You, Taira Kana or you, Calvin Taiyo Sage?”
“Calvin, of course. I only became Kana yesterday, you know that.”
“So, do you think you look like Calvin? Or look male for that matter? But it wouldn’t matter anyway, even if you looked just like before, you wouldn’t get on a flight.” she explained, flooring me.
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“Because both Powerhouse and Shining Star are sticklers for the rules. Not that I can really gainsay them in that. Shining Star put it into her report that you literally blew up when asked a simple question, blew up with considerable power. That makes you potentially dangerous. I doubt that your normal school would have let you attend, not once they got the updated information.”
“But... “ I started, only to be cut off.
“Yes, that sucks, I agree. But see it from the other side’s point of view. If a single question, even asked in a high-stress situation, makes you vaporize your surroundings, what would happen if you just happen to be bullied and blow up at your tormentors? Even if you managed to claim self-defense, which I highly doubt, the public outrage would be murderous.”
I could see the point.
“The school, I’m not just sent there to keep me safe, right? It’s also to make sure I don’t accidentally kill a bunch of people, isn’t it?” I asked glumly.
“Honestly, yes. But it’s not as if you get a bad deal here. You get to go to one of the best schools in the country, period. And, you don’t strike me as a psychopath, how would you feel if you killed a bunch of people, especially accidentally?”
I was reminded of the idiots that had accosted Mayumi and me. That had been a single outing and I had almost started killing people. Maybe, it was for the best to ship me off into the mountains, where I couldn’t harm people.
