by Joseph Bonis
She shook her head. “I don't think so, Shichidan,” she replied. Then she realized he would understand, perhaps could help. “Actually, I was hoping I could talk to you about … something related. I can't deal with this myself.”
“Tracy,” he murmured, his smile not disappearing, but at least receding a bit to acknowledge the seriousness of her request. “I'd be honored to listen.”
Tracy sat down in front of his desk, taking a couple breaths as he waited patiently for her. Thankfully, he didn't stare at her while waiting, but instead busied himself stacking up his paperwork and pushing it to the side. Finally, she started. “I got in a fight last night.”
Grandmaster Lee let out a soft 'ah' of understanding and stopped organizing his desk.
“No,” Tracy corrected herself, “I was attacked. There were four of them,” Tracy paused, then continued. “I just …” She stopped talking, trying to figure out how to say it. “I froze up.” She took a deep breath and sighed. “Someone saved me, and I just stood there unable to do anything. And when he came up to me …”
She stopped again, her head bowing as she let herself replay the scene in her mind in its entirety for the first time. “I put him in an arm lock. I was this close to breaking his elbow. I just panicked, and it happened.”
“It-it's just,” stammered Tracy, glancing up at Grandmaster Lee again, nervous about his reaction. “I couldn't do anything about the four guys who wanted to hurt me, but the one guy who helped me … I hurt him! And what if I had done it wrong and I had injured his elbow? How can I let myself have this sort of power?”
She sighed, not meeting the grandmaster's eyes. “That's why I've been holding off entering the Dan for so many months,” Tracy went on. “I can break someone's elbow with barely any pressure at all! If I go into the Dan, I'll start learning the moves where, if I do it wrong, I'll kill someone!”
Grandmaster Lee nodded sagely, his smile all the way gone now in favor of a much more somber mien. “A lot of us have gone through that. You're not the only one to have this concern.” He pondered for a moment longer. “Look up there,” he said, gesturing towards a black and white photograph larger than any of the others on the wall. “Who is that?”
“That's the Osensei, Shichidan. He founded Aikido.”
“Correct,” Grandmaster Lee confirmed. “And why did he found Aikido?”
Despite knowing the answer immediately, Tracy took a few moments to make sure she was wording it correctly, thinking about it instead of answering by rote. “Because he wanted a martial art that reflected his spiritual beliefs of love and compassion, even to one's enemy. With the perfect Aikido technique, one turns aside aggression so that neither the receiver nor the aggressor is harmed.”
“Fairly accurate,” replied the Grandmaster. “And that's what the Dans are about. It's not about the moves you know, it's beyond the techniques - it's about control. Dans are about progressing in control - do you have the control to trade up your white belt for a black belt? As you learn more, yes, you learn techniques that could be used to kill - but you also learn the control that keeps you from having to take that option if you don't need to.”
Tracy nodded, somewhat reassured. “There's more,” she murmured, hesitantly. “It's also … that is, I can … I might be able to do other things, too. Things that are kind of strong.” How could she explain without sounding insane?
Grandmaster Lee shook his head. “It doesn't matter, Tracy. It's just power, and any power is a tool, able to attack or defend, able to hurt or to heal.”
Tracy blinked. “Heal?” she asked. “What do you mean? Heal how?”
“Not in the sense of medicine,” he replied, “But consider, for instance, a young man with a hard life, who robs the store to get money for food. He's desperate. The police have the power - and they defend with their power to protect the public, but that power can also be used to heal, if they give him the motivation or means to escape his hard life.”
“Aikido is the same way,” Grandmaster Lee continued. “It is a way of protecting yourself and the people you care about, but it is also a healing art. By preventing injury, both to yourself and to your opponent, you help to show your respect for their life, and provide an opening to end not just a fight, but to heal whatever prompted the fight. Of course, not all aggressors can or will respond to that, but it is the ideal we follow.”
Tracy nodded, slowly. “It makes … sense,” she replied, thoughtfully. “I mean, I'm not just all of a sudden OK, but … it makes sense.” She gave a small smile, then, her voice taking on a little energy, as a small pride finally came through. “You know, when I actually put him in that arm lock, I didn't even think about it, it just happened.”
Grandmaster Lee chuckled. “Of course it did, that's why we train by rote and mass repetition - so that when the time comes, you don't have to think about it. That's how you get fast reflexes - your muscles know how to do the move, not just your head.”
He stood up, and Tracy scrambled to do likewise. “Come, Jukyu,” he said grandly. “Let's get ready for class.”
Tracy nodded and bowed politely at the waist, inclining forward with her hands at her side. “Thank you so much, Shichidan, for your words and care.” She hesitated, then asked, “May I take the test for First Dan next week?”
Grandmaster Lee grinned hugely, but responded with similar gravity. “Of course. Should I schedule the test for Second Dan for the week after?” Tracy gave a small squeak of doubt, and Grandmaster Lee lost his serious mien as he chuckled. “No, I'm kidding. You do need to learn some new techniques first - but your skill and control, and your philosophy, are certainly there, nonetheless. You're far below your rank, Kyu.”
“Thank you,” she murmured again, grateful for the words that soothed her worried mind like a balm.
Power to heal, she thought. He certainly has that.
Tracy went into the changing room to change into her practice garb, feeling calmer and much more peaceful. Mentally, she was running through the motions of a meditative state, repeating a silent chant to herself as she slowly approached a more proper frame of mind for practice.
The changing room was nice, comfortable, and welcoming - not stale and professional like most changing rooms were. This was a small, narrow room with a single tiny window high up on the rear wall and a larger frosted sunroof on the ceiling to let in the sun. Tracy never turned on the light if she could help it, no matter how clouded or gloomy the day. Worn wooden benches ran along either side of the room, save for where another door was against the right rear wall. There were hooks and a shelf above the bench, for storing one's stuff. In a way, it reminded Tracy of a kindergarten coat room.
The similarity ended there. Hanging over the storage shelf was a series of carved wooden clouds inspired by oriental paintings, and a friend of Grandmaster Lee's had made birds out of black scrap iron to hang from the ceiling. At the far end of the room, under the one tiny window hung a mirror on the wall, right over a small cabinet. On its surface was two unlit candles and an incense holder dusted in ashes. Tracy could smell the sweet flowery remnants that told her it had been used recently. Lavender, if she wasn't mistaken.
Tracy pulled her keiko gi out of the gym bag and set it on the bench, then put the gym bag up on top of the shelf. A few minutes later, she was out into the main room, running through her warm-up exercises, wearing the clean white wraparound jacket and the almost skirt-like pleated black hakama trousers, her feet bare. An old and stained but clean white belt was wrapped around her waist proudly.
As she stretched and went through some solo warm up kata, other students began arriving. Smiles and soft greetings were made between everyone, and the main room soon was a mass of unorganized preparations and warm ups, the quiet replaced with a warm and comfortable chatter as people caught up with each other.
It was not long before Grandmaster Lee came out and started the class, and the students immediately cut off their conversations and lined up to face him.
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nbsp; “Class,” he said, “I have good news. Next weekend, there will be a black belt test after class for Tracy! She's going for First Dan at last!” The class applauded with polite little golf claps, except for Amy who patted her on the shoulder with a more enthusiastic “about time!” Tracy had long been the best student in the class, over ready to enter the black-belt 'Dan' class instead of the white-belt 'kyu' class. Few of the kyu actually knew Tracy - most of the people she had used to practice with had either lost interest with Aikido or gone on to the black belt classes. Other than Amy, she just never had hit it off with any of the long-time students here, and even Amy was someone she only knew from class - they had never met outside of Aikido.
Today's class started with some almost superfluous stretching - most of the students had taken their tips from Tracy and started stretching and practicing before class started. After everyone was ready, they started in as a whole on some warm up solo katas, everyone moving in harmony along with Grandmaster Lee. After a short time of that, he set about pairing everyone off for some dual katas.
The class lost the organized, synchronized appearance and dissolved into a mess of small pairs. The pairs had their own poetry, though, as they proceeded through the martial dance, one attacking as the other redirected the attack in movements going back to the founding of Aikido, matched and flowing into mirror positions so that the second person could repeat the movements of the first without disrupting the dance and flow of the kata.
Grandmaster Lee paired up with Tracy, helping her to practice while giving her pointers on what to watch for during the test. Tracy could never fail but compare herself to Grandmaster Lee. Even with the same technical movements, he moved so much more smoothly, his superior skill shining through. Tracy thought of his talk of control, earlier, and hoped that someday she could attain the same level of control and grace in her own movements. “I'm not worried about you during the test,” he assured her, “I just figure you'd be more confident if you know what to expect, going in.”
Sometimes Grandmaster Lee stayed with her and practiced with her, simultaneously making her feel clumsy and inspiring her with his grace, but most of the time he left her to practice one half of the dual kata by herself while he went off to walk among the rest of the class and help them improve their own skills. He would stop one pair to correct a stance, giving a soft nudge to a foot and a tap to the knee to illustrate how the weight should fall, then he would stop another pair to slide a hand's grip a little bit along a wrist, to adjust the way the fingers lay upon the elbow.
As she practiced, she started to feel a faint pressure, as if a headache was just threatening. Unlike a normal pressure headache, though, it didn't just settle behind her temples, but kept moving around to different parts of her head. Or rather, she realized, the pressure was always in the same direction, no matter how she turned – towards the front of the building.
“Not again,” she murmured with annoyance, an impossible idea occurring to her as she remembered last night, and a similar feel this morning. She finished off her current kata and stepped away, giving a short wave of reassurance to Grandmaster Lee as he shot a concerned look in her direction. It wasn't entirely uncommon, with twenty or thirty people in such close quarters, for the heat to get uncomfortable, and students often stepped out the front door to get a couple breaths of cooler air.
She wasn't surprised to see the man as soon as she stepped past the folding paper dividers, standing over on the far side of the street, his hands burrowed deep into the pockets of a long coat. The Native American man from last night stared right back at her, looking slightly surprised and slightly embarrassed as she glared at him. Dammit, this was her safe place. She didn't want last night intruding here.
She stepped down the few stairs to the door and threw it open, the bell ringing above her as she stepped outside, hopping a bit as the frigid concrete sucked the heat right out of her calloused feet, ever so much colder than the air itself. “Can you say stalker, much?” she called across the street, annoyed and not caring if anyone heard her.
“Um … I … that is …” he stammered, unsettled by that level of directness.
“Get over here, I'm freezing!” she called, planting her fists on her hips. Just her feet were cold, really - the day was warming up quite nicely - but she didn't feel like elaborating. He glanced both ways along the street and hurried across as Tracy stepped back inside.
“Stop doing that to my head,” she grumbled quietly to him as he came in through the door.
“Do what?” he asked in confusion, also murmuring under his voice to avoid letting their voice carry to the practicing students.
Tracy gestured helplessly at her temples. “The thing, where it feels like someone's watching me. It's going to give me a headache.”
“Oh,” he murmured. “That. Yeah, I'm not doing that - it's happening to me, too. You'll get used to it.”
Tracy sighed, turning to walk up the stairs with the man walking behind her. “I don't want to get used to it,” she murmured with exasperation, “I want it to stop.”
“It's not going to stop, it's -” the man started.
Tracy cut him off. “I don't have time for this; I have to get back to class.” She pointed at one of the small, worn wooden chairs. “Look, just sit there for a while and wait for me.”
The Native American man perched meekly in the chair. Tracy returned to class, giving an unnecessary tug to tighten her belt. She was relieved to note that the pressure in her head seemed to be less - either because of his proximity or because she had interacted with him, she couldn't say. She still had the feeling that he was there, but it was more diffuse - she could no longer point directly at him, and could ignore it much more simply, making it far easier for her to concentrate on her katas and pay attention to Grandmaster Lee.
Class ended swiftly enough, and Tracy had actually relaxed and calmed down by the time it was over. The ritual exercise, with its precise movements blended with a very natural feel, was extremely soothing to her state of mind. Students bunched together a little, chatting amicably about how the class had gone, and several once again wished Tracy luck on her test next week.
Amy stepped up to happily wish Tracy luck, along with several others, but then stayed to ask cheerfully after Tracy's jewelry. Tracy smiled and animatedly described the bracelets and pendants she had created earlier in the week. Amy was easy to like - bubbly and excitable, always showing enthusiasm over a wide variety of topics. Her shoulder-length blond hair usually was up in pigtails, one of the tomboy's few girlish traits, along with a love of accessories. Though Amy and Tracy had never met outside of Aikido, Amy had commissioned Tracy to make a few hair ornaments for her, and had found Tracy's work on sale at Ted's booth at the Renne Faire. She was also very easy to get to talk about herself, and many a time Tracy nearly missed her bus because she was talking so long with Amy.
Amy and Tracy chatted merrily for a bit, until Grandmaster Lee approached them. “So, Tracy,” he interjected at a convenient pause, “who's your friend up front?”
Tracy paused, somewhat embarrassed, but admitted, “He's, ah … he's the guy who helped me last night.”
“Oh?” asked Grandmaster Lee, intrigued. “I must meet him, then.” He gave a mischievous grin before he turned around and strode off towards the front. Tracy tried hard not to have a worried look on her face as she followed after, stifling a silent whimper of frustration. She was pretty sure the Native American man would be smart enough not to mention floating charms and knives made of shadow …
The Native American man jumped to his feet as Grandmaster Lee appeared past the folding paper screens, Tracy following after nervously. “Hello,” said the man, glancing at Tracy's hesitant expression, then up to Grandmaster Lee. “Is there anything wrong?”
“No, no!” assured Grandmaster Lee, smiling. “I was just curious why someone was waiting up front. Interested in learning Aikido?”
Tracy let out an exasperated “Shichidan!” and shook he
r head. “I told you, he's just waiting for me!”
Grandmaster Lee let out his wide, bright grin, cheerfully saying, “You can't blame me for trying.”
“It might not be a bad idea,” said the Native American man. “I mean, after all, you did beat me quite easily last night. You taught her well, Mr. She … She-cha … um … what was your name again?”
Tracy shook her head. “You can call him Grandmaster Lee,” she explained. “Shichidan is a specific title; it tells how far advanced he is in the ranks of 'Dan', or Black Belts.”
The man gave a curious look at Grandmaster Lee, standing in the bright sunlight at a dark six-and-a-half feet tall. “Really?” he asked rhetorically. “You don't look like a Lee.”
Grandmaster Lee's bright grin just widened a little more. “It sounded more respectable for an Aikido teacher than 'Grandmaster Leroy' or 'Grandmaster Gibson.'” The man laughed heartily and nodded as Grandmaster Lee went on, “And can I know the name of the man who helped our Tracy?”
Tracy blinked and looked over at the Native American man, curious as well - she had never found out his name, either.
“It's Jacob,” the man replied, “Jacob Nightfox. And I'm not sure I really helped all that much - she probably could have taken them all on herself.” He glanced around the school. “And I see where she gets it from.”
Tracy pointed her thumb over her shoulder. “Jacob, I just have to change into normal clothes. I'll be about fifteen minutes - don't let Grandmaster Lee talk you into paying for too many years of classes in advance.” Grandmaster Lee gave his broad, bright grin once more, and Jacob laughed at what he thought was a joke.