Maria was a lot of fun to write. What do you guys think of her?
Yo opens up another book of Woo Foo history and sets it on the coffee table. I groan and recline my head on the sofa, disappointed. I was hoping that today was the day when I could start some actual training.
"Come on, sit up," says Yo, annoyed.
I do as he says and let out a louder groan. This has to be a sick joke. If it is, it isn't funny.
"So when's the part where I learn how to throw a punch and kick?" I ask. Lying back down on the sofa crosses my mind, but I ultimately decide against it so that I don't make him mad. He's being patient with me, and I'm glad for that, but I don't know how quick it'll wear thin.
Laughing, Yo sits next to me with the book on his lap. "As soon as Chai and Ti get back. In the meantime, wanna read with me?" He offers me the book, but I decline politely, nudging it to the side. After going through the one I borrowed, I can't stand the sight of a single book, let alone holding one right now.
I shake my head and politely decline on the offer. I get up from my seat and take to the kitchen to fetch myself a glass of water, downing it in one go. Leaning my back against the sink, I observe my surroundings and absorb everything. The cupboards that hold the plates and glasses, the countertop where a lone kettle stands, the drawers with cutlery inside them. Everything is spick and span. I can't help but be amazed. Maintaining this level of organization must take a good amount of diligence. A good amount of patience. Something that Ti, Chai and Yo have, something I lack in and should improve on.
The dining area is no different, the bamboo table aligned with the tatami mats, the six chairs surrounding it tucked in. Catching my interest is a row of picture frames hanging on the nearby walls, my eyes shifting from one to the other. They all show Ti, Chai and Yo together in different situations. The one that resonates with me the most is the picture of them at an amusement park. Yo stands in between his masters, holding a cotton candy stick in his hand and smiling so wide that it's a miracle his mouth hasn't fallen off.
Seeing them so close, so happy together, puts a smile of my face. It sends a certainty in me that I made the right choice.
I return to the living room, where Yo is still engrossed in his book, and take back my spot on the sofa. I decide to read along with him, and his hand finds mine as he flips through a page.
"Sorry," he says promptly, swiftly turning the page over, almost ripping it out.
"No, no, it was my fault," I reply. "I get careless sometimes." A chuckle slips out of my mouth, and it sounds forced. I avert my eyes to do away with the discomfort.
"You never told me how you got that cut," says Yo, caressing his fingers against my cheek. His touch is soft, gentle. It takes a few seconds to adjust, but eventually I relish in it, in the comfort I derive from it. For a warrior, he isn't as rough as I thought he would be.
I push his hand away when it touches the scab on my cut. "I don't want to talk about it," I say, eyes shut. Wincing at the images of James, Willis and Bobby that rise in my head.
Yo places a hand on top of mine, and I gasp at the move. My eyes find his, a pair of hazel pearls that shimmer with a spark. A spark of tenderness. I am submerged in them, heart racing, throat set aflame. They tell me to trust him, that whatever I tell him will remain between the two of us.
I can't believe this. I barely know him, but I trust him more than anyone else. More than the people I do know. More than the people I should be trusting, the people I should confide in.
"You sure?" asks Yo, smiling.
Before I can answer, Chai and Ti enter through the doors, and I retract my hand, my cheeks burning. To say I'm embarrassed is an understatement.
"We're back," announces Chai, dusting her fur off.
I get up on my feet and say to Yo, "I'll tell you later. Promise."
Breathe in, breathe out. That is the exercise we start with. My chest rises and falls with each breath I take. And with each breath taken, I am more and more at peace. Heartbeats come at a sure, regular interval.
"Let us begin," says Ti, who is knelt down before us, on the opposite side of the room, his sister kneeling by his left. "Yo? Will you do the honors?"
Yo stands up and walks towards the center of the room in a uniform fashion, his feet shuffling along the floor. His arms move in circles before assuming a stance. One foot slides forward, the other sliding back. His eyes are tapered, his nose crinkled, creating a countenance of concentration.
Chai and Ti take turns explaining the importance of a firm and steady stance, and I take note of what they say and what I see. The placement of the front foot pointing forward and the back foot pointing away is for balance. The bent knees ensure that one can move readily as required. One hand is outstretched for both offense and defense. To throw a quick strike and to guard from the enemy's attacks. Fighting with a different posture is possible, but not as effective.
After that, Yo begins his demonstration. A flurry of fists, feet, elbows and knees fly into the air, switching back and forth with each other in precision. I notice the control he exercises as he throws every punch, every kick. The fluidity of his movements. How he shifts speeds seamlessly, from a blinding, fast straight jab to the slow retracting of whatever limb he threw out. His attacks exuding with power, with strength. With grace.
He is a performer, showcasing his talents, embellishing them. I am a member of an imaginary audience, struck with awe at his display. The abilities that has taken him a lifetime to perfect. This thought intimidates me. A little. But it is trumped by my amazement.
He pauses and holds his stance for a while, and then goes back into his exhibition, moving his hands in a circular formation. A shining sphere of light appears in his grasp. The sight of it entrances me, and I can't look away. I don't look away.
"Attunement with the spirit is necessary in learning the mystic arts," says Yo, keeping a hold of the sphere, like a balancing act. He handles the sphere deftly, as if it were fragile, his hands delicate. Flowing as a feather. "I may make it look easy, and it is at first, but it's tougher the more you crack at it. Really, if you're in control, nothing can go wrong."
With a confident grin, Yo throws an arm out and flings the sphere across the room, seting off an explosion where it lands. It isn't as wild as a bomb detonating, but it's strong enough to spew forth a cloud of dust and smoke, and make the ground quake. The cloud clears out and reveals Chai and Ti charred. Ti glares at us with a scowl and a twitching left eye, while Chai coughs away whatever matter has entered her lungs.
It's cringeworthy, but at the same time hilarious, the sight of two Woo Foo masters annoyed. Just like when a teacher at my school is at wit's end with a class, except worse. Or better. I don't know.
In his embarrassment, Yo scratches the back of his head and chuckles. "Well, most of the time," he remarks, a terse smile along his lips.
Raising a finger against my lip, I chuckle at his mishap. I stop when Chai and Ti stand up, fearing that they might punish Yo for something he could not help. The humor vanishes from the room, replaced by discomfort. Yo turns to face them and await the repercussions they may give him. But they do nothing. They stand there, motionless and frowning angrily, and then bow at Yo, an enclosed fist held in the palm of their hands.
Yo repeats the gesture at them, the tension subsiding. I get up and bow as well, imitating them as best as I can.
"And that's the lesson for today," says Chai, both arms behind her back and hands linked.
"Maria, you may continue practicing this with Yo. Since he has been learning the art longer than you, he will be guiding you as you learn. We trust that you will show him the same courtesy and respect that you have shown us," Ti adds, approaching me, staring me down. His chest is so wide, and his shoulders are so broad, it feels like a brick wall is doing the talking. If walls had the ability, anyway.
He makes his way towards the door, but I give him one last query as his foot finds the dining room floor.
"Can I practice on my own if I'm not here?"
"You may," says Chai, walking past me and tailing her brother.
At the door, Ti adds, looking over his shoulder, "I hope you do not intend on searching for a sparring partner whom you can try your moves on, Maria."
His words burrow in my head along with the ones he had spoken prior.
"I won't," I say to him.
But still, he paces back and forth and continues. "One of our tenants—a golden rule, if you will—is to never use Woo Foo in anger. As warriors of high virtue, we value peace, order and balance, and to use our art with ill will goes against that golden rule." He stops pacing and crouches down near me. His orange, narrow eyes dig into mine. "In short, don't use Woo Foo just to hurt someone. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yeah," I say with reluctance, clenching my teeth together. "Don't worry about me. I won't get myself into trouble."
"I will take your word for it," says Ti without looking over his shoulder. "Children." He takes his leave, and Chai gives me a quick bow and makes her own exit.
When they are out of sight, I give you a glance and walk towards the middle. Where he gave his demonstration.
"Shall we get started?" I insist.
Chuckling, Yo stands opposite of me and puts both hands on his hips. "You sure are eager, huh?"
Practice begins. Remembering the demonstration I had been shown, I take the stance and ensure its correctness. Yo, being the more experienced of us two, points out to every area I'm wrong in, down to the most minute aspect. Again, I refrain from groaning at him and allow him to show me the way. This is an exercise of the body and patience, which is why I don't utter a single complaint.
As Yo guides me and I pick up on his advice, Ti's words ring in me. The words that I will disregard in the future. I don't know when, but it will inevitably happen.
I came here to learn how to fight. How to defend myself. How to end conflict without being an instigator. Acquiring the strength I have been longing for is half of the reason why I am here. Why I am learning this martial art to begin with. I am not going to earn it only to disregard it when the need to call on it arises. I will not betray myself.
Thank you once again for your readership. Don't forget to leave a review, if you please.