A phase that people engaged in physical battles go through, where the warrior's mind, through pain, anger, or sorrow, transcends to a new level of heightened talent and the body is able to perform techniques it was previously unable to perform. -Websters Unabridged Dictionary
Ascending to a higher level of the warrior spirit. - Zangan
Succumbing to the beast within. - Vincent Valentine
Yer body's way of tellin' ya 'Enough's fuckin' enough' - Barett Wallace
Limit Breaks.
She'd asked everyone she'd ever known what they thought they were, and had heard a different description from each. No two were ever the same, and no one understood anyone elses explanation.
Tifa
(heard saw felt knew)
her Limit Breaks as a litany, a mantra to give her strenght, to power her to new heights. When she was calm, when her blood didn't rush, she didn't know the mantra, the words lost to her. She could sometimes catch a glimpse, a tiny word fragment
(-Ru- -So- -In-)
that was barely a clue into the meaning of the mantra, far away, whispered on the breeze.
Then there were the times when she was in a battle for her life, for the Planet, times when her blood sang with adrenaline, when the air sang with blood. These times she was close to the mantra, could almost
(see hear touch taste)
the words, could almost know what they meant
(-Kick -Drive -Strike)
and why.
Then there the times that she rode the wave of battle to it's peak, the times when the pain and anger and sadness became the sharpest agony and the wildest rage and the deepest sorrow, the times when her heart took over her mind, when the Mantra was strong and clear
(BEAT RUSH SOMERSAULT WATERKICK)
when nothing mattered except that she
(heard felt knew danced)
the Mantra to it's end and nothing remained alive to oppose her
(METEODRIVE DOLPHIN BLOW METEOR STRIKE)
or her friends or the Planet and her veins sang with the spirit of every warrior before her
(FINAL HEAVEN)
and every warrior that would come after her.
Then the feeling was gone, blown out like a candle, and her enemy was dead while she still stood and her friends were cleaning themselves up, or healing, or looting the dead, or looking around with dazed eyes as they came down from their own limits. The Mantra retreated to the depths of her mind, scattering like leaves in the wind, lurking within her blood, waiting for her to rise and once again reach her limits.
