And now, words from the author…
Hey guys and gals,
If you're reading this story, God bless you. If you're not, then what I say here doesn't really matter, does it?
This is my first note to you readers, and I apologize for that. A writer really is nothing with out his or her audience. That's our job: we entertain you. More than that, I want to make a connection with you guys. So from now on, I promise to drop you guys notes every now and then.
First off, thanks for the reviews, for those of you who've read and reviewed my work. Reviews are to writers what Gatorade is for athletes, it keeps us going. What you put in, is what you get out – meaning that the better reviews I get the better stuff I put out (how's that for coming up with an extended metaphor on the fly?). Keep those comments coming.
If you have any suggestions, I'd be happy to consider them for my story. They may or may not appear in the story, but if it's good enough, you'll see it here.
To the best reviewers, the more reviews you give me, the more chances you get of being added in the story. It is a bit of a gimmick, but I am looking to add another character, and if you show that you've been following the story (that is, by adding quality reviews) then I may consider creating a character in your honor.
If you like the story, certain consider recommending it to other readers.
That's it for now – oh and by the way, if you've not read The Legend of Seven Swords by Suloong, then you're really missing out.
And also read my other fics in the Slam Dunk section, I, Tensai, and, Second to None.
Thanks for bearing with me. The following notes will be shorter.
Without further ado, here's the latest chapter in Gathering of Heroes.
Excelsior.
Akira focused on his opponent. He stood a head and a half taller than Akira and built sleek and powerful like a torpedo. He was predominantly green, except for the discolored muscles that defined his powerful arms. Wearing a white turban and a flowing white cape, Akira's opponent still looked every bit as imposing and intimidating as he did the first time Akira had met him.
He came to me after my defeat in the Tenkaichi Boudokai. He offered me power beyond my imagination, all in exchange for my service in saving the universe. Saving the universe, how do you respond to that? I said yes, but like entering the Tenkaichi Boudokai, I should have thought before I acted.
Akira's whole body ached from the rigorous training over the course of the last month. Granted, Akira had no clue what he had gotten himself into, but he had not imagined in his wildest dreams that the training would be so difficult. He had yet to fully recuperate even from the injuries acquired during the tournament. Never really given the chance to fully heal, Akira had pushed himself, and had been pushed, to his limits and far beyond it. It had only been a week when Akira had felt himself hit the figurative wall, when he could push no further. He was pushed to break through it completely and forge on ahead.
Even if I had known what the training would have entailed, it would have been difficult to refuse him. He carried himself with such charisma and power, it was impossible to even conceive of denying him. Such is the power of the former Demon King.
Piccolo, first a stranger, then his mentor, now his opponent, exuded an aura that seemed to encompass the entire area and control everything within it to his own liking. It really had been impossible to turn him down.
And Akira faced the same aura now, except it had a different effect. This one threatened to envelope him and completely smother him. Akira felt the phantom weight bearing down on him and crushing him in all its intimidation. Nonetheless, he forced his fears out of his mind and charged toward his mentor and opponent.
His speed was severely hindered by the weighted clothing that he was forced to wear. Akira had worn weighted clothing at the very start of training, and progressed to heavier weights as he got stronger, or allegedly so, because Akira felt no difference in his abilities – he was consistently left in a limbo between complete exhaustion and full physical capabilities. He wore fatigue like a second skin; it clung to him, and he could not shake it off, regardless of how hard he tried. Ironically, the harder he tried, more fatigued he became.
And it was the same fatigue that slowed his reaction down now. He caught a glimpse of Piccolo's right fist hurtling toward his face, but simply could not move fast enough to block it. The right jab was quickly followed by a left uppercut to the ribs that cracked Akira's ribs like so much twig.
Akira dropped his right arm to cover his tender flank and forced his mind to push beyond the pain and concentrate. Piccolo had repeatedly drilled into him the efficiency of motion, and Akira planned to use it to its fullest now.
Efficiency of motion had to do with shifting the body into the most advantageous position using the absolute least amount of movement. At its simplest form, it was making a ninety degree left turn instead of a 270 degree right turn. In its most complex form, it involved one's center of gravity, cone of attack, and the sphere of awareness.
Center of gravity referred to the core of the fighter, and maintaining its position so that the fighter stays balanced. Akira had spent incalculable hours to just master the footwork necessary to keep his balance in a defensive situation and an offensive situation.
Cone of attack was the triangle formed by the fighter's arms when he held them out in front of him. All attacks originated from that cone and the length of the cone from base to tip determined the ideal striking range of the fighter.
Combining the first two factors accounted for much of Piccolo's fighting philosophy. It was his contention that if the one of the fighters could maintain his own center of gravity and cone of attack while disrupting the his opponent's in the least moves necessary, then victory was guaranteed for that fighter.
The third factor was crucial for achieving such a victory. The sphere of awareness referred to the space that is within the arm's length of the fighter and the total awareness of the occurrence in the mentioned area. Piccolo claimed that if one's awareness became sharp enough, it soon began to border on precognition, and the fighter would start to react to attacks before they even occurred. To achieve this state, Piccolo stated, the fighter needed to be completely aware of his space with all his senses – the senses of vision, hearing, smell, touch and even taste. Once in such a state, the fighter had to disregard everything except for the now. That meant that the fighter would have to forget about what will happen as a consequence of an action, and what had happened and fully concentrate on what was happening at that moment. The logic was, the sooner the present is processed in the mind, the sooner the fighter can deal with the next moment in time. Awareness was the key: higher state of awareness lead to quicker processing of the present, and the fighter could begin to process the next moment sooner. Literally, the fighter would, in his mind, start analyzing and reacting to the next moment before it even occurred; at the very least, he would get to the next moment before his opponent did.
Akira found this to be the hardest concept to swallow. He understood the logic behind it, and the steps that were necessary to achieve such a state, but the whole scheme sounded to him like a lot of theory. While he spent a fair amount of time practicing within his sphere of awareness, he spent much more time in the first two principles. I'll be damned if I rely on something that may turn out to be a complete hoax during a real fight. I may as well practice something that actually works. His decision really had nothing to do with whether or not he believed in the sphere of awareness, but Akira wanted to have something to rely on during a real fight.
And right now, he was doing his damnedest to put his first two principles to practice. He began moving much more fluidly and with less movement, both of which were essential to the efficiency of motion, but it had very little impact. Akira was able to block a number of strikes, but Piccolo was often just too quick for him. Akira understood exactly where he had to be to defend himself, but simply could not get to that spot soon enough. The more that hits you, but more that will. He knew that he would have no chance if Piccolo continued to strike him at will. He had to do something, so despite what his common sense told him, he took a step back and drew a deep breath.
Better that I find out here that it doesn't work than finding out in a real fight that it's ineffective. Akira squelched the skepticism rising in his gut and concentrated. He noted the grass that surrounded them, he felt he breeze on his bare skin. He heard the birds, his breathing and even Piccolo's breathing. He smelled the sour scent of his sweat, contrasted sharply by the brisk crispness of the air. He tasted the air, and he even thought that he could taste Piccolo's aura in the air. Smiling to himself, he drew his hands up in his fighting stance, his arms forming a loose triangle and let Piccolo come to him. He didn't disappoint.
Piccolo shot forward and drew back his right arm, and closed the distance between them almost too quickly for Akira's mind to register. He blindly threw his hands up to cover his left side and felt Piccolo's attack strike it. Akira smiled even more broadly and shifted his footing, stepping away from Piccolo's attempted hook. Akira may have even attempted a counterstrike had he not gotten his feet kicked out from underneath him.
As he fell to the ground Akira began to feel foolish. I should have known, such a state is impossible to achieve and completely impractical. It has no place in a real fight and here the technique failed me. He felt betrayed by Piccolo for teaching him such a useless technique. Akira roughly made contact with the ground and even began to feel angry at Piccolo when he came to a sudden realization. Did the technique fail you or did you fail it?
The simplicity of the question shocked Akira. It's true. I never really believed that the technique would work. As hard as I tried to keep an open mind, I still let my preconception paint my perspective on the technique. The technique never worked for me because I never gave it a chance to work.
Upon coming to this startlingly simple revelation, Akira quickly began to clear his mind. This time, I'll really try to make it work. If I can't trust any of my senses other than seeing, then I'll just have to force my sense to trust them.
Akira pushed himself off the ground and again drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. As he exhaled, he let all his prejudices flow out with his breath. He no longer allowed himself to consider the consequences of his actions, and put faith in his body and instinctive mind to just act.
He opened up his senses even more fully than before and a flood of information filled his mind. Akira closed his eyes and let his mind weave all the elements into a single composition. He saw in his mind a clearer picture of his surroundings than he ever did with his eyes. The trees, the grass, the air, the pattern of wind, even the small insect that flew in nonsense loops in the air. The picture was so vivid that Akira could have sworn he really had his eyes open. So much so that he almost reached up with his hands to check that his eyes were indeed closed.
Akira brought his hands up in his fighting stance, and registered the oncoming rush of air. So heightened was his senses that he could feel the contours of the air as a figure that Akira knew could only be Piccolo charged at him. Akira allowed his eyes to open and matched up his mental picture with what his eyes saw. Then, the most fascinating thing happened.
Akira easily blocked Piccolo's first strike, a leaping roundhouse kick to his left temple. Akira's eyes saw Piccolo move to strike with his left fist, but his mind's eye showed all the possible attacks that Piccolo could attempt in blue shadows and highlighted the left jab in a bright silver sheen. Akira moved to block the jab, but his mind had already moved to the next event, and highlighted a right hook kick. Even before Piccolo moved to strike, Akira had stepped away, and threw a front snap kick of his own. However, he hit nothing but air.
Piccolo had disappeared and reappeared behind him and hit Akira with a mild ki-blast. Akira was sent sprawling to the ground, his back smoldering from the blast.
Akira got up with a groan and turned to face his mentor, again letting himself slipping into that state of awareness that he achieved, not a moment ago.
Piccolo smiled genuinely. "That's enough for today, Akira. You did great."
Akira looked at his master quizzically. Piccolo had never told him that anything was enough. They had kept on pushing until Akira could no longer physically get up. "Piccolo, sir? I can train more."
The Namek nodded. "I know you can, Akira, but today, you've reached a crucial point in your development as a warrior. I'm very impressed that you were able to manifest such awareness in just a month."
"Thank you, sir," Akira replied as he bowed deeply. He straightened and winced from the pain in his side. He gritted his teeth as he felt his ribs crack back into place.
Piccolo chuckled. "Here, I have something for you." He removed the pouch from his waist, and opened it, drawing from it a small bean. He tossed it to Akira who plucked deftly out of the air. Akira again looked at his mentor.
"It's a senzu bean. Eat it, it'll make you feel better."
Akira shrugged. It'd be no more amazing than some of the things that happened today. He popped the bean into his mouth and chewed before swallowing. Immediately, the pain in his side faded and the fatigue seemed to drain away from his muscles, leaving him feeling lighter and better than he had in a long time. He looked down at himself and noted that his frame had bulked considerably. He was still slim by anyone's standards, but his arms were now framed with corded muscles that pulsed as he flexed.
"Master…"
"Karin grows it from his tower. It completely replenishes your strength and heals injuries regardless of how dire they may be. And, if you take them under nominal circumstances, it's supposed to keep you full for three weeks.
"You've been pushing harder than anyone I've seen in a long time. You deserve some rest, Akira."
"Thank you, sir." Akira bowed once again, but did not turn to go back to their camp. "Piccolo, sir?"
"Yes?"
"Can I ask a question, sir?"
"You just did, but I'll give you another."
Akira scratched the back of his head. "How come you won't teach me to do those ki-techniques?"
Piccolo sighed. "The reason is that I've seen so many fighters, good fighters, with high ki-potentials become too dependent on ki-techniques and don't actually know how to fight hand to hand. I wanted you to have a solid base of hand to hand combat skills before you work with ki.
"As it is, you're still a ways off before you can do ki-anything. Remember, you were able to keep up with me today, but I wasn't even powered up at all. You have a long way to go."
"Yes, sir." Akira nodded and turned to go back to camp.
"Akira," Piccolo called.
"Sir?"
"You're doing a great job though. I promise, when you're ready, I'll make sure you know everything there is to know about ki."
Akira smiled broadly and saluted. "Yes, sir."