Hakkyokuseiken
I
Geese woke to the sound of the wind. For a moment he did not open his eyes. He felt different today. He knew if he opened his eyes his world would be confirmed. This scared him a little.
Eventually, though, he did open his eyes. He saw the ceiling of his Japanese style home and the scrolls which hung from it. He rolled over and saw the dojo he had made, his "way place" for perfecting his art. Past that, he saw the open garden, with it's false ponds and bridge. He saw the many statues of Eastern design depicting acts of personal war. He breathed and smelled the aroma of a city he had dominated. He listened and, even through the wind and the rain, he heard his heart beat. Today, this morning, now, it sounded different.
Geese rolled out of bed, not with the combination of anticipation and regret he usually had, but with a sense of acceptance. He did not look forward to his other, less personal chores. He wanted only to practice.
After a lengthy shower and other bathroom activities, Geese walked to his closet. In it, he saw his collection of hakama pants, the pleated skirt-like pants of most traditional Japanese arts. Their design served to hide footwork, giving the wearer the appearance of floating. Most of these were black, some were red, and others had long, intricate patterns laced over the lower legs. He also saw his uniform jackets, most white, all of canvas. Geese picked a pair of pants and a jacket and slipped them on. Usually when he dressed, Geese felt a slight sense of change, of rightness, but not today. He felt a little too old and silly dressed in the uniform of a borrowed culture.
Geese walked to the dojo portion of his home. He closed his eyes and said something inaudible. Then he began to stretch. The rain came down outside and the wind pushed it along. Geese was aware of this only in the periphery. Slowly he moved every muscle into and out of tension, feeling his body wake. When he was done, he began his squats. He did five hundred of these, then went to pushups; five hundred of these, then to crunches; a thousand. The back bridge came next. He held this for five minutes.
After he was finished, Geese bowed, took a step backward, then began the first of three kata, solo exercises meant to simulate battle, which formed the base of Hakkyokuseiken. It had no name, so Geese just called it "ichi", or one. It was simple, containing only a series of blocks and parries, strikes, and kicks. Most of the stances were normal, natural; not deep and dramatic. The second, kata, "ni", seemed to come from a different world entirely. It was fast moving and elegant, stressing redirection and efficient striking. Most stances were high and natural, but flowed into deep transitions, bringing Geese nearly to the floor, then back up. The third, "san", was as different from the second as the second was from the first. It was slow, the breathing deep. The muscles moved slowly, tensed as moving a heavy weight. He repeated each of these three times, then bowed again, and walked over to his heavy bag.
Aside from kata, this was his most enjoyable training. It was completely free; no constraints, no rules. Therapy. Geese made a slight bow to the bag, then began. At first, he used only single techniques; a jab, an uppercut, a cross. Slowly, he worked his way to combinations of two, three, four, and five techniques. He repeated the process with his lower body. Then, he blended the two.
Even at 200 pounds, the bag whipped about as if it weighed nothing.
Geese shouted, slumped to the floor. His body shaking.
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After a Spartan breakfast, Geese made his way to the boardroom. It would be another two hours before any of his subordinates arrived, but he needed this time to plan.
