THE BLIND WARRIOR
by
Gerald M. Weinberg
The Blind Warrior is December Wells (Ember). Through an accident of birth, Ember possesses mental control over heat and cold. When she becomes angry, however, this power takes control of her. When she was a young teen, a man attempted to harm her. Angered, she lost control of her power, causing her to incinerate parts of his anatomy.
She must defend herself against mysterious assailants, but she has no wish to harm them, or to reveal her power to the world. She cannot cast aside her thermal power, so she wants to learn to defend herself without using her power or allowing it to take over. That's why she's studying Aikido, the gentle art of self-defense.
The Blind Warrior
The dojo was a tiny morsel of Japanese culture hidden in an unassuming commercial flat. According to Art, the walls and ceiling were spotless stark white, though he knew Ember hadn't the slightest idea what "white" was. Her bare feet told her the cool floor was covered wall to wall with padded vinyl mats that Art said matched the blue of Ember's eyes. He was always giving her such irrelevant information about colors, and she didn't mind. She appreciated that he didn't go out of his way to treat her differently just because she was blind.
According to Art, the dojo's only decoration was a picture of the founder of Aikido, Morihei Ueshiba, resting on a wooden shelf next to a ceramic vase of fresh wildflowers. She liked the subtle smell of the flowers, and she liked to stroke the feather-soft petals with her fingertips. When she first joined the dojo, Sensei Takashima had led her to the short north wall and helped her feel all the weapons: sharp steel swords, wooden ones for practice, and fighting sticks up from six inches to six feet long.
Each far corner of the room was curtained off to form spartan men's and women's toilets and dressing rooms. Ember knew the curtains were to protect the privacy of the students, though they made no difference to her. She could hear them dressing and conversing, and she recognized the tinkling sound as they used the facilities. Sighted people, she knew, didn't pay much attention to such quiet sounds.
As they entered the dojo, both she and Art removed their shoes and bowed to the teacher, the sensei. After the previous class, Sensei Takashima told Ember to come early today, before the rest of her class arrived. When she finished changing into her gi, he took Ember aside and put her through her paces. He seem impressed by her progress but amused by a couple of awkward misinterpretations—moves he gently transformed into effortless flows. "Biggest problem is too tentative. You need real uke." He addressed this comment to Art as if to say he wasn't pressing her hard enough in their practices. "When class starts, I have uke for you."
Ember wasn't sure she liked the tone with which he said "uke"—a real opponent. "Who is it, Sensei? If I may ask?"
"Ah, you may ask. Van, a walk-in bully. Knows small amount of Karate training. Thinks he knows more than Takashima. Needs humility. You will teach."
Now she was trembling. "What if he humbles me?"
"Either way okay. If he beats blind woman, everyone sees bully and coward. If he loses to blind woman, everyone sees hollow braggart."
Ember lacked Sensei's confidence, but he placed both his hands firmly on her shoulders. "But he will lose. You are best student of Takashima. Believe your Sensei."
Before Ember could protest further, two students entered, and Sensei left to greet them. "I'm glad he's so sure of me," she told Art, "but I'm not. I've never faced a real opponent."
"But you have. Several times, outside the dojo, when you didn't have time to think about it."
"But they were just thugs, not trained martial artists." She could feel cold sweat trickling down her sides. Whispering so others couldn't hear, she said, "I'm scared, Art."
"Don't worry, Sweetheart. I've seen your ukemi, and it's fine. If he throws you, you know how to roll. And I think I've seen your opponent before. He's not really a trained martial artist, either. Besides, if it starts to get out of hand, I won't let him hurt you ... too badly."
She could hear Art laughing as he said that. "Gee, thanks." she said. "I'm not afraid of injury—not too much, anyway. I'm used to bumping into things. It's just that … " Ember wasn't sure just what it was—fear of hurt or fear of hurting.
Art answered for her. "I think it's just having me as a critical audience—" Just then, the door opened and Ember could hear the scraping of feet on the mat. "—and speaking of the critical audience, here comes the rest of the class."
Ember was so nervous she wanted to roll into a tight protective ball, but she kept herself occupied by greeting all the incoming students, some of whom she hadn't met before. They were all friendly—all except Van, the bully, who didn't even shake the hand she offered.
All through the introductory ceremonies, the stretching, and the warmups, Ember pressed her anger down. What else could I have expected from a bully? Why should I care if he's courteous? If I'm angry, it only takes me off center. I'm here to learn how to handle my anger, so I'll deal with it. That's why I'm here, to control my anger without burning other people to death.
At the end of warmups, Sensei Takashima reminded the group that Van had recently raised the issue of the superiority of one martial art over another, particularly his Karate over their Aikido. "I believe question without meaning. Superior Karate student defeats inferior Aikido student. Superior Aikido student defeats inferior Karate student." He paused. Ember knew he was bowing to her, and to the bully. "But theory always tests on mat. So, I propose demonstration. Van Karate meets Ember Aikido."
The students' gasps did nothing to bolster Ember's sagging confidence. They think he's going to kill me.
Several students attempted to volunteer to take her place, but Sensei Takashima insisted. He spoke to Van. "You accept?"
Van muttered a sound of assent, and Sensei guided Ember to the front while she could hear the other students shuffling back to the walls. "You accept?"
It seemed the most frightening thing she'd ever been asked to do. though logically she knew it was not. She took three conscious, deep abdominal breaths into her hara—according to Aikido, the center of her existence—calming her mind as she had practiced. Then she bowed to Sensei. "Yes, Sensei. I am honored that you have placed such confidence in me."
All Van said was a muttered "ha," followed by a snort. Sensei ignored Van's rude utterance. His only response was to clap his hands once to begin their encounter.
Ember responded by bowing in the direction Sensei had placed her. While she was still bent in the ceremonial position, Van's fist drove into her shoulder. If she hadn't heard his foot scraping along on the vinyl mat an instant before, the blow would have pounded her face. She was already moving off the line of attack—not enough to make him miss entirely, not enough to actually counter the strike, but enough to protect her face and allow his inertia to carry him past her.
Her shoulder stung. Then throbbed. She was glad he was too far behind her to follow up his blow. In any case, he was in no hurry, and stopped to taunt her. "Real street fighters don't go for that ceremonial crap. Do you really think some bozo is going to bow to you before he attacks? Get real!"
Van's taunting boosted Ember's confidence. He's rude and disrespectful to Sensei. Plus, he's too ignorant to know his voice helps me locate him precisely and anticipate his approach. An instant later, he tried the same head chop again, but this time Ember was fully ready. Her primal instinct was to duck, but her training took over. Time slowed, making every move distinct.
She swung her left foot forward to his right side and raised and extended both her arms, barely anticipating his blow to her head, which was no longer in its path.
Her right arm contacted his arm and assisted it in continuing its forward and downward path.
Her left arm dropped naturally to his wrist as she began to pivot in a backwards circle on her left foot.
Down went the arms, until her body rotation and his momentum led them back upwards again.
His hand was now on her left shoulder into first lock position for nikyo—the in-turned wrist. If he lets go now, he won't be hurt, she thought, but he tightened his futile grip, obviously thinking to defeat her by superior strength.
Although he outweighed Ember by at least fifty pounds, from the kote mawashi position her entire weight and momentum was brought to bear on his trapped arm, spinning him face down to the mat with a resounding thwack.
Van struggled to escape, but he was so effectively pinned that his struggles only led to more strain on his shoulder—more pain.
Finally, reluctantly, he slapped the mat in submission. Ember immediately released her hold.
Immensely relieved, and thinking the match was finished, she prepared to bow politely to thank her opponent. But the other students, breaking protocol, applauded, masking the sounds of Van sneaking around behind her. Warned by their gasps, she heard his approach at the last instant, but again took a hard blow to her throbbing shoulder. This time he clipped the lower part of her neck.
Trying to ignore the shooting pain, she spun away, guessing that his style was to keep trying the same assault as long as it was working. This time he didn't pause to taunt her, but she heard his feet tromping on the mat as he immediately launched an attack while her back was turned.
She continued her spin, timing it so she met his intended blow with an upward surge of both her arms. I can't see him, but he's so predictable.
She deflected the strike towards his face with her right arm while her left hand performed the yonkyo wrist pin.
As she continued her spin, her painful grip on the nerves of his forearm once again threw him face down on the mat. She pinned him easily. This time, he submitted quickly, but remember his prior false submission, she remained prepared.
As soon as she released her hold, Sensei asked Van if he wished to stop. He ignored the question and rushed at Ember, snorting angrily, delivering a Karate kick to her midsection, knocking her backwards and paralyzing her breath.
Automatically, her ukemi practice took over. She executed a backward roll and, still unable to catch a breath, wound up standing as Van again rushed toward her.
On her left, she heard Art's heavy steps moving in to stop Van, but she knew he was too far away.
Ignoring the students' cries of alarm on her right, she concentrated on Van's approach, hearing the scrape of his right foot as he began his powerful kick. Her mind raced at triple speed through a dozen parallel thoughts. I can't do this. I've never practiced against kicks.
Then time slowed again. Her mind cleared. But I know the principles—irimi, enter without fear. Think of it as an upward cut, just with the leg, rather than the arm.
Instead of retreating, she moved inside the outward sweeping leg, dropped her left knee on the mat. Knowing exactly where Van's leg had to be, she pulled on the outside of his left ankle with her right hand, toppling him on his back.
From the sound, she knew he had taken a hard fall, perhaps cracking his head on the mat unprotected. Her instinct was to stop her defense and help him up. But he continued to curse and struggle, so she flipped him over on his chest and crossed his legs, pressing down on his toes with her right hand.
He still struggled, so she stood and replaced her hand with her knee. Her hands freed, she began to apply a wrist lock. He groaned in pain, slapping the mat three times in rapid succession.
He had signalled submission. It was over.
Sensei took over the class while Art led Ember outside. "Let's walk," Art said, "so you don't stiffen up." They strolled silently on the sidewalk until some loose gravel stabbed her bare foot. Seeing her wince, he guided her onto the verge. On this steamy day, the grass felt deliciously cool on her bare soles, but she wanted to talk. "Is there someplace we can sit?"
He guided her to a seat on the curb, her bare feet touching lightly on the soft, hot tarmac. Art waited patiently until her muscles stopped quivering. "I'm very proud of you. You did well."
"Did I injure him?"
"Mostly his pride. He'll get over the bumps and bruises. Maybe now he'll take his ukemi practice seriously."
"He deserved it," Art said. "He would have been thrown out of any decent Karate dojo. Bullying is bad enough, but his technique was poor."
"It may have been poor, but I think he hurt me more than I hurt him." She twisted so Art could see the other side of her face. "Does anything show?"
"You look fine," Art said.
"What about the bruise the size of his footprint on my belly? I can feel it."
"If you're worried, I'll get one of the ladies to check it."
Ember remembered how Art used to kiss her bruises when she was a little blind girl, bumping into everything. "Thanks. Maybe later. Bruises don't show for a while, do they?"
"Some do, some don't."
She didn't respond immediately, listening to the rumble of cars whizzing past on Fourth Street and the grunts and thuds from inside the dojo. "Nobody ever kicked me before."
"You handled it well."
"I'm not exactly sure how I did it. It was like chess—he made a move I didn't expect, one I'd never experienced before. My first instinct was to panic. Then all my study and practice took over and somehow got me through."
"That's the way it works. Right?"
"It did. The best thing was that I was never really tempted to use my power."
"Too bad your boyfriend isn't as conscientious. Has he been to the dojo?"
"No, he thinks it's a useless activity."
Art sneered. "And playing with toy rocket ships isn't?"
Ember wanted to defend her friend by taking some of the responsibility on herself. "I guess I could show him I learned something from all my 'useless' activities."
"And that was … ?" Art prompted.
"How to practice. How to really devote myself to the repetitions."
"That's called intentional practice. That's what counts. Not the number of hours you put in, but how much of yourself you put into each hour. It's the same in football and Aikido. Or any skill, I imagine."
"When you played football, were you ever afraid?" Ember said.
"All the time. Were you afraid of Van?"
"I tried not to be, but I suppose I was. But mostly I was angry when he didn't follow the dojo etiquette."
"Well, anger and fear are part of the same emotion."
This equating surprised Ember. "They don't feel the same."
"Then you need to feel deeper. Anger is hurt, and fear is hurt anticipated."
Ember rubbed her fingers along the rough grain of the concrete curb, recalling all the times she'd been angry—especially when her father restricted her activities because of her "handicap." She hated when he was home, but she hated more when he was away on his long trips. "Will he stop being a bully now?" She wasn't sure if she was talking about Van or her father.
"What made you ask that?"
"I just wondered if his suffering—and mine—is going to make any difference."
"What he does now is up to him. Sometimes, the bullies leave the dojo for easier pickings. Sometimes they stay, transformed."
"I wish I knew which. I'd feel better, then, about inflicting pain. It's like the kids at the clinic. Sometimes a procedure is painful, but I can stand by if I know it's going to help them see again."
Art patted her hand. "It really doesn't matter what Van chooses. Either way, you've demonstrated to the others that they don't need to fear bullies. And, most of all, you've demonstrated that to yourself. So, yes, you've made the world a better place."
The End
Ember and Her Teammates
If you'd like to read more of Ember's further adventures, they are told in the Stringers series, available in paperback and ebook formats. You may read free samples at the Smashwords Store:
http://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/JerryWeinberg?ref=JerryWeinberg
Below are individual book titles and links to web pages where you can sample the books at no cost. You may buy them at low eBook prices in formats for all e-reading devices, or your computer. They are also available as quality paperbacks, from your favorite bookstore.
Ember and five other special young people become a team to defeat an armed secessionist militia.
Ember and the other Stringers cope with a dangerous unknown Stringer from South America.
Two young inventors confront the problems accompanying fame.
Successful inventors assist in protecting an abused Navajo inventor.
Jigglers: Aremac a Century Later
What happens to the Aremac inventors as the years go by.
Two people from different cultures, each with incredible powers, team up.
Will a young woman's talent win her the freedom she lost when she lost both hands?
Earth's smartest living entity befriends humans to save itself from other humans.
Can naive mathematicians foil a sophisticated master criminal?
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SMASHWORDS EDITION
PUBLISHED BY:
Gerald M. Weinberg on Smashwords
The Blind Warrior
Copyright © 2011 by Gerald M. Weinberg
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.