Post by Chomei on Mar 26, 2024 3:23:52 GMT -5
How long had it been now... Four, Five months?
Yome had never been good at keeping track of time. His was a life of reflection and wanderlust—Unchained by any bonds or rules. What use were 'day's' or 'years' to a man of the wild?
And... A man with so few left, regardless. A waste of thought, Yome told himself.
The elderly monk had decided some time ago that the Dragon Style would die with him. Wandering and reflecting had shown him naught but good reason for it. For really... What need was there for such violence in this peaceful epoch. He'd never been a ruthless man, but that was what was demanded of him. His Martial Art demanded violence, rage—Destruction of one's own self.
It was corruption—Mimicking the forms of a fighting style.
... Eh... Bah! That was what he thought... Or rather, the way he thought. So many years of isolation had damaged his mind. He was often dramatic, if only in his inner monologue. Maybe it was a coping mechanism. A way to keep himself 'entertained' in the months between civilization. A habit now, at best. But... Now near the end of his days—His mind turned to the past quite often. And he remembered his youth—The days that he would spend obliterating whole schools in fruitless challenges. The broken bodies of his opponents. It was something he regretted, that lusting for power and recognition. That Passion. And it was something that was spurred on by the Dragon Style. Or be it's hidden nature. Yome was reasonably convinced of that.
Even those many months ago, seeing that group descend on this poor child—That anger he'd felt. It was almost unnatural. And he'd hurt them...
They were deserving, sure. But Yome could have handled it sagely now, in his old age. Surely he could have.
.
..
...
Maybe he'd grown soft in his old age. Or maybe his resolve was simply too weak.
Yome watched the child—Om Choh, he'd called himself. Some days ago, he'd 'passed' Yome's final trial. Officially, his first and only student. The elderly man hadn't intended to train the youngster... He'd been trying to bore the young man away for months! Youngsters like him didnt respect Martial Arts... They just wanted to beat people up—Get revenge on their bullies. Become the bullies. Or so he'd thought...
But after that first month... After the shock of that slight push had passed...
Choh had dedicated himself to Martial Arts. Every waking moment. He looked very much like a prodigy. Yome could see the fire in his eyes—And he thought... He thought Choh resembled him quite a bit, when he was younger. It was a dangerous light.
"... Boy, how long has it been since we've met?" He asked, curious. Choh stopped mid-thrust, his hand hanging limply before him. He watched as Yome staggered to his feet—Leaning against his wooden stave. Breathing raggedly, shoulders sagging—The almond haired boy replied— "Seven months I think... maybe a lil' more, sir,"
Damn, he growled quietly. Way off mark.
Yome stared at him silently, and Choh shifted a little under the elder's judgeful gaze. Today... The memory of violence fresh in his mind... After a long pause, Yome asked one question.
"... What is power to you, Boy?"
Choh blinked, confused. Yome repeated the question, and Choh realized that he'd stumbled into another one of Yome's 'sudden-death tests'. The young man scratched his chin uncertainly. "Take your time, be descriptive..." Yome breathed.
Choh knew better than to just blurt out the first thing that came to mind. If he answered wrongly... Yome usually sulked and stopped training him for a few days. Choh noted the nervous look in Yome's eye—Typically, the old man didnt let his emotions leak out... That in turn made him think even more carefully.
It must have been half an hour when Choh suddenly sighed dramatically. Yome jumped at the unexpected noise, but before he could lambast his student—
"I dunno, is this a trick question? It's... A lot of stuff right? Like—The first thing is probably strongness. That's the first thing I thought of—But you can be powerful and not be strong right? Like uh, the President right now. That dude is a wimpy oldfuck—Oh uh, no offense, sir. But he can do a lot of stuff... Good and Bad stuff. Order folks round' and sign dumb laws. Or throw big parties for him and his bigwig buddies with all uh' pa and ma's money. It's a lot of stuff... But I guess it depends on the person?... So uh... 'The ability to do good or bad things' is my answer"
Chomei scratched his chin again, muttering something distasteful about 'Mr.Oldfuck' before realizing...
"Oh... But you said to me, right?" He paused, head tilting a little. "... Well... I guess... Power for me is... 'The ability to do what's right, no matter what'. Good stuff like helping folks... Like how you helped me," He finished, waiting tentatively for Yome's reaction.
Yome kept a neutral expression and sat very still. He sat for about as long as Choh had in deep contemplation, and he too let out a resounding sigh—Choh mimicked the old man's earlier jump. "Eh... About what I expected... But that's good enough," He smiled. Chomei whooped, pumping his fists into the air excitedly. "Fuck yeah!"
Yome chuckled at the boy's enthusiasm. "Settle down a little... We're not done yet..." Chomei cut off mid-woop. Glancing carefully over at his teacher. Probably fearing another test. The old man began to hobble over to the young man. And as he did so, the memories of all his past—Anger, Violence, Pride, Glory... They flashed through him. That fire he'd seen in Choh's eyes... The young man seemed to have a good head on him... But that fire could very well be a reflection of Yome's own... A reflection of all his sins. "Doing what's right, huh? Kind of simple..." He huffed. "But remember that, boy... Teach it to your students as well. Philosophy like that is especially important for Martial Arts like ours. A mighty style that can obliterate nature—It should only be used to do what's right," He nodded.
Eyeing Choh up and down, Yome smiled. "When I was young, and I learned this Martial Arts—My teacher gave me a name... Once he thought I'd earned it. Yome-kim. I think i'll give you one also..."
With this... Yome took a firm step forward. Somewhere along this path, He'd warmed up to Choh—And having spent a great deal of time with him these past few months... Yome felt now that he would surely do better than he. Choh would resist the corrupting pull of power. The flame in his eyes... Yes... He could tell now—They weren't flames of someone obsessing after power. They were flames of righteousness! And if... After Yome was gone... Choh was to live in times of war or violence (unlikely though that might be)—Yome felt that Choh would do the right thing. Surely. He could feel the untainted Passion in his words.
"... I've decided... Cho-mei, that has a nice ring to it, yeah?"
The Dragon dragged his palm across his face. ...What an odd memory? He wondered, feeling exhausted after the past few days. He couldnt tell why it'd suddenly come to mind. But if he'd had to guess...
Nearly two thousand dead under his watch. Untold strength in his fingertips, literal strength coursing through him like blood... And still he was powerless. No different than he were one year ago.
...Doing what's right, huh? He whispered solemnly. How he wished that Yome were here to guide him now.
...I'm trying Yome. I promise... I'm trying...
And... A man with so few left, regardless. A waste of thought, Yome told himself.
The elderly monk had decided some time ago that the Dragon Style would die with him. Wandering and reflecting had shown him naught but good reason for it. For really... What need was there for such violence in this peaceful epoch. He'd never been a ruthless man, but that was what was demanded of him. His Martial Art demanded violence, rage—Destruction of one's own self.
It was corruption—Mimicking the forms of a fighting style.
... Eh... Bah! That was what he thought... Or rather, the way he thought. So many years of isolation had damaged his mind. He was often dramatic, if only in his inner monologue. Maybe it was a coping mechanism. A way to keep himself 'entertained' in the months between civilization. A habit now, at best. But... Now near the end of his days—His mind turned to the past quite often. And he remembered his youth—The days that he would spend obliterating whole schools in fruitless challenges. The broken bodies of his opponents. It was something he regretted, that lusting for power and recognition. That Passion. And it was something that was spurred on by the Dragon Style. Or be it's hidden nature. Yome was reasonably convinced of that.
Even those many months ago, seeing that group descend on this poor child—That anger he'd felt. It was almost unnatural. And he'd hurt them...
They were deserving, sure. But Yome could have handled it sagely now, in his old age. Surely he could have.
.
..
...
Maybe he'd grown soft in his old age. Or maybe his resolve was simply too weak.
Yome watched the child—Om Choh, he'd called himself. Some days ago, he'd 'passed' Yome's final trial. Officially, his first and only student. The elderly man hadn't intended to train the youngster... He'd been trying to bore the young man away for months! Youngsters like him didnt respect Martial Arts... They just wanted to beat people up—Get revenge on their bullies. Become the bullies. Or so he'd thought...
But after that first month... After the shock of that slight push had passed...
Choh had dedicated himself to Martial Arts. Every waking moment. He looked very much like a prodigy. Yome could see the fire in his eyes—And he thought... He thought Choh resembled him quite a bit, when he was younger. It was a dangerous light.
"... Boy, how long has it been since we've met?" He asked, curious. Choh stopped mid-thrust, his hand hanging limply before him. He watched as Yome staggered to his feet—Leaning against his wooden stave. Breathing raggedly, shoulders sagging—The almond haired boy replied— "Seven months I think... maybe a lil' more, sir,"
Damn, he growled quietly. Way off mark.
Yome stared at him silently, and Choh shifted a little under the elder's judgeful gaze. Today... The memory of violence fresh in his mind... After a long pause, Yome asked one question.
"... What is power to you, Boy?"
Choh blinked, confused. Yome repeated the question, and Choh realized that he'd stumbled into another one of Yome's 'sudden-death tests'. The young man scratched his chin uncertainly. "Take your time, be descriptive..." Yome breathed.
Choh knew better than to just blurt out the first thing that came to mind. If he answered wrongly... Yome usually sulked and stopped training him for a few days. Choh noted the nervous look in Yome's eye—Typically, the old man didnt let his emotions leak out... That in turn made him think even more carefully.
It must have been half an hour when Choh suddenly sighed dramatically. Yome jumped at the unexpected noise, but before he could lambast his student—
"I dunno, is this a trick question? It's... A lot of stuff right? Like—The first thing is probably strongness. That's the first thing I thought of—But you can be powerful and not be strong right? Like uh, the President right now. That dude is a wimpy oldfuck—Oh uh, no offense, sir. But he can do a lot of stuff... Good and Bad stuff. Order folks round' and sign dumb laws. Or throw big parties for him and his bigwig buddies with all uh' pa and ma's money. It's a lot of stuff... But I guess it depends on the person?... So uh... 'The ability to do good or bad things' is my answer"
Chomei scratched his chin again, muttering something distasteful about 'Mr.Oldfuck' before realizing...
"Oh... But you said to me, right?" He paused, head tilting a little. "... Well... I guess... Power for me is... 'The ability to do what's right, no matter what'. Good stuff like helping folks... Like how you helped me," He finished, waiting tentatively for Yome's reaction.
Yome kept a neutral expression and sat very still. He sat for about as long as Choh had in deep contemplation, and he too let out a resounding sigh—Choh mimicked the old man's earlier jump. "Eh... About what I expected... But that's good enough," He smiled. Chomei whooped, pumping his fists into the air excitedly. "Fuck yeah!"
Yome chuckled at the boy's enthusiasm. "Settle down a little... We're not done yet..." Chomei cut off mid-woop. Glancing carefully over at his teacher. Probably fearing another test. The old man began to hobble over to the young man. And as he did so, the memories of all his past—Anger, Violence, Pride, Glory... They flashed through him. That fire he'd seen in Choh's eyes... The young man seemed to have a good head on him... But that fire could very well be a reflection of Yome's own... A reflection of all his sins. "Doing what's right, huh? Kind of simple..." He huffed. "But remember that, boy... Teach it to your students as well. Philosophy like that is especially important for Martial Arts like ours. A mighty style that can obliterate nature—It should only be used to do what's right," He nodded.
Eyeing Choh up and down, Yome smiled. "When I was young, and I learned this Martial Arts—My teacher gave me a name... Once he thought I'd earned it. Yome-kim. I think i'll give you one also..."
With this... Yome took a firm step forward. Somewhere along this path, He'd warmed up to Choh—And having spent a great deal of time with him these past few months... Yome felt now that he would surely do better than he. Choh would resist the corrupting pull of power. The flame in his eyes... Yes... He could tell now—They weren't flames of someone obsessing after power. They were flames of righteousness! And if... After Yome was gone... Choh was to live in times of war or violence (unlikely though that might be)—Yome felt that Choh would do the right thing. Surely. He could feel the untainted Passion in his words.
"... I've decided... Cho-mei, that has a nice ring to it, yeah?"
The Dragon dragged his palm across his face. ...What an odd memory? He wondered, feeling exhausted after the past few days. He couldnt tell why it'd suddenly come to mind. But if he'd had to guess...
Nearly two thousand dead under his watch. Untold strength in his fingertips, literal strength coursing through him like blood... And still he was powerless. No different than he were one year ago.
...Doing what's right, huh? He whispered solemnly. How he wished that Yome were here to guide him now.
...I'm trying Yome. I promise... I'm trying...
Fin