Story part one

The Three Colors of Recovery Pt. 1

A small bird flitted from branch to branch. It was early spring and time to come out, build a nest, find a mate and ensure the continuation of the species. After looking for a few minutes for suitable twigs and leaves, the bird contented itself with merely sitting on an old sign-post saying “Oregon Route 30”. The bird heard a soft moan coming from around the bend of this scenic highway. It was a mini-cooper s almost drifting around a curve, only to right itself again and rocket forward, upsetting the bird from its perch. The driver continued on at a high speed, drifting around corners and up-shifting on straight-aways the driver was a medium heavy built man of about 22 with short and spiked blond hair, sunglasses, and a large black trench-coat.
He down-shifted and coasted when he saw a small sign painted on a tree. It said “peace” in Hiligaynon/Ilonggo. He turned off of the Historic Colombia River Highway onto a dirt road that went into the woods. He pulled up near a wood house, not unlike a log cabin, but still a house. He turned off the car and got out, grabbing a large rolled up canvas tarp with a shoulder strap and a duffle bag, climbed up the stairs to the front door and knocked. A dog started barking and a woman appearing to be in her late 40’s, though actually in her late 50’s, with greying blond hair answered the door saying “calma*, Barkley” (*portuguese for “calm down”)
“Asa,” The woman exclaimed in surprise, “you’re back!”
“Hi mom,” Asa said as he hugged her, “how are you, dad and Barkley doing?”
“Oh, all right, but really come in and put down your stuff, your dad is in the back yard training, but he’ll come in a bit.”
“Ok, I may go out and see him in a bit. Sorry for not calling ahead, I just needed to get away and I wasn’t even planning this. I just flew in this morning from Brazil, so I’ve got major jet-lag.”
“Well, you know, we’ll always be here when you need a bed and a hot meal.”
“Thanks mom”
“No problem sweetie, now why don’t you go and put your things in the guest room and rest a bit, okay?”
“Will do.”

Asa rested for a few hours, took a shower, changed into a soft brown kimono and went out into the back-yard where his father was meditating and praying. His father was a man of about 58 with greying hair, a bald forehead and a circle beard. He was sitting on a small wooden platform wearing an Aikidogi in front of a training area where 3 weapon racks stood full of both real and training weapons. When his father opened his eyes and saw his son kneeling in front of him, he was not surprised.
“I was wondering when you’d come back” he said.
“Well, I am here and my eyes have been opened to the deception that you warned me of when I took the weapons offered me” Asa replied.
“Did they control you like I warned you that they would?”
Asa nodded tears filling his eyes. His grief was so great, because of the deception and what his deceiver had made him do while under their control.
“As you had foreseen, the power I received was tainted, it filled me and made me not myself anymore. After a little while, I had no control over my thoughts even. Forgive me, for I have sinned against you, my mother, God and the ones I persecuted when I was not myself” Asa lamented.
“Well”, his father sighed, “for now stay here until you are ready to move on, and tomorrow, train with me again.”
Asa had dinner with his parents for the first time in almost a year and went to bed early. The next morning he got up early, put on his karategi, went into the back yard and started warming up. About half an hour later his father Bruce came out.
“Did you sleep well?” Bruce asked.
“Well, and for the first time in a long time” Asa replied, “and you?”
“Well, but enough chitchat, let’s start”
A routine sprang up for the two weeks that Asa stayed, training early in the morning, breakfast, while his parents went out for walks he’d throw a ball for Barkley or go out “hunting” interesting smells, lunch, afternoon training with weapons, dinner, relaxing time with parents and Barkley.
When two weeks were coming to a close, his father challenged him to a bokken duel, and if Asa won, he’d receive a small trinket that his father had “found while walking in the woods”.
The next day, when Asa came out to warm up, his father was already waiting for him sitting on the platform and with two bokken*(Japanese wooden swords used for training) in his hands. Silence prevailed with the exception of the occasional chirp while Asa warmed up. When he was ready, Bruce threw him one and said “En garde” and slashed at Asa with surprising ferocity for his age. Asa barely had time to react, let alone block, but he did, although just barely. For the first few minutes, Asa fought mostly on the defensive, deviating blows and blocking when there was no other way, saving his energy. He knew that this would be a long fight and he’d need every ounce of strength by the end of it. After about 15 minutes of attacking, his father said “What’s going on Asa? Too timid to attack back? Did what happen take all of you resolve to win?”
“I just don’t want to hurt you, that’s all” Asa replied.
“Don’t worry about your old man, he can handle himself, although, the way you’re fighting, you’ll only hurt yourself” Bruce shot back.
Asa started counter-attacking, blocking here, stabbing there, and occasionally slashing, but not too hard or too fast.
“You’re still holding back, you’re holding yourself back and you’re not showing me you want to win” Bruce challenged.
“I just don’t want to hurt you” Asa replied.
“I said don’t worry about me, I’m as strong as I ever was and I want you to prove to me that you still can do things when you put your mind to it, no matter the odds” Bruce said.
The fight grew more intense, sweat started to flow from both bodies, but no hits were made on either. Attacking, defending, counter-attacking and jamming all flowed together, each one trying to gain the upper hand. Finally Asa was able to graze Bruce’s side with his bokken, it wasn’t anything hard, but the touch was enough. It meant that he was starting to overpower his father and that he could win, as long as he kept up his strength that is. He started thinking rapidly, analyzing more than ever every move, every thrust, twitch and muscle spasm. In all of his training with his father, he had never found an opening in his defense.
“There!” he though, “that’s it, a tiny twitch, basically unnoticeable. Every time he thrusts foreword, there’s a slight movement of his right foot”.
He realized this while blocking, just barely blocked a blow to the right side of his head. Asa then left himself open just above just diaphragm, knowing that was how his father liked to finish. As Bruce lunged, Asa side-stepped and kicked his father’s knee down. This left Asa in control behind Bruce, with the wooden blade of the bokken to his father’s throat.
Bruce surrendered his bokken, saying “you’ve come far, and now your prize”. He went over to the platform and lifted a small wooden board out of the side revealing a space of about the size of a jumbo match-box. There was a small black box with blue vein-like designs all over it. He gave it to Asa and said “here’s your prize, you can open it by pushing on one of the sides”.
Asa did and it revealed a blue sphere about the size of a walnut. As Asa took the sphere, a voice filled his head. It said “I am yours, I have been transferred to you via combat from my previous master and I represent your resolve. Please choose the form which is most pleasing and useful to you”
Asa said “Katana, take the form of a katana”.
“Very well, the next time you need me, I will transform into a katana or back into a sphere the next time you so command it” the sphere said.
“Dad,” Asa said, “Thank you”.

Asa stayed a few more days, and at the suggestion of his father, decided to see his other teacher.


To be continued...