Tibet

     In a small clearing in the middle of a dense forest, a small camp had been established.  In the dead center, there was a modest fire going.  A large, silver cooking pan was suspended over the fire by a simple structure made of sticks and twine.  Near the back of the camp was a small, light brown tent, held up by two poles in the center.  A few large rocks were arranged to serve as chairs; one rock formation resembled a bed, or just a place to lay down.  Some basic survival supplies were scattered about on the rocks.
     Jago sat down heavily on one of the rocks.  He held a wooden spoon in his right hand.  His eyes were half closed, and he moved slowly and sluggishly.  It had been a very long day.  Despite the legend concerning locating his old master, Jago wasn’t comfortable with sitting and waiting.  He had been constantly moving for almost a week now.  Today alone, he hiked at least ten miles.  Jago kept hoping that he would accidentally stumble upon a freshly made tent, or at least the hulls of eaten fruit, for a trail, but no such luck.  Instead of complaining about his travels, Jago was appreciative of the exercise he was getting, and the strength he would gain.
     In the pot over the fire was a fine stew that Jago was cooking.  It consisted of a few vegetables Jago had brought along with him: carrots, peppers, potatoes, and beans.  Also within the pot were meat strips from an animal Jago had hunted and killed today.  It had been cooking for quite some time, and Jago was a little overanxious for it to be finished.
     Jago stood up slowly and wandered over to the pot.  He stirred it around, and took a hearty sniff.
     “Few more minutes.”  Jago said to himself.  “Dinner is almost served.”
     Jago went back to his rock, and sat down.  Living within nature, cooking stews and meat over an open fire, it reminded him of his days as a teenager in the Tiger Shrine.  Part of the training to become a ninja was to survive using nothing more than what your hands and feet can do for you.  At first, it was absolutely miserable, but as time passed, Jago came to love surviving without even the basic needs, having to earn the right to live another day.  When the sen’sei’s came to retrieve him, Jago almost wished to stay, and couldn’t believe that three months had passed since he had been left to fend for himself.
     Suddenly, there was a disturbance in the trees nearby.  It was significant enough to catch Jago’s attention.  He turned around and stared into the darkness, trying to ascertain what it was.  However, whatever it was passed very quickly, and left no trail of its existence.  Jago concluded that it was probably just a small animal, and not worth further pursuit.
     “I must be getting old, eh?  You almost detected me.”  An old voice called out.
     Jago spun around quickly.  Sitting across the fire, cross-legged, on one of the rocks, was the ninja master Jago had been looking for.  He wore a thick, brown robe that seemed almost too big for him.  He wasn’t wearing the hood; he had a short round face, with a shiny baldhead.  His eyebrows were a fine silver color, his eyes were thin and his face very wrinkled.
     “Sen’sei!”  Jago exclaimed.
     “Ah, Jago, one of my finest students.  How has life been for you since you left the Shrine?”  The sen’sei said.
     Jago looked puzzled.  “How did you.....oh nevermind.”  He remembered that this sen’sei, among other amazing talents, knew everything.  Not just a lot of things, everything.  You could skin your knee in the middle of a forest all by yourself, and not mention it to anyone, and as soon as you saw him, the sen’sei would say “you should take care of that knee.”  Over the years, students would ask the sen’sei how he knew such things, but he always dodged answering the question by asking another question.  After a while, the students gave up and stopped asking, accepting that he really did know everything.  It was kind of humbling.
     “So.....you have been searching for me, eh?”  The sen’sei asked.
     Jago stood and bowed.  “Yes, master.  I have come for enlightenment; I seek training that only you could give me.”
     The sen’sei smiled.  “Tell me, Jago.  You defeated two cyborgs, and a powerful demon lord.  What could you possibly be seeking to improve?”
     Jago was stunned again, but he held his “How do you know about that?”  question inside.
     “Well, master,”  Jago said, a little unnerved, “you probably already know this, but I’ll go over it anyway.  A few weeks ago, I fought with a warrior cyborg named Fulgore-X in order to defeat the demon lord Gargos.  Well, after a strange turn of events, Gargos possessed me.  I could watch everything that went on from a third person perspective, but I couldn’t interfere.  While in my body, Gargos performed superhuman feats; flying, super strength, and......and even......energy manipulation.  However, there was one time where Gargos left my body for a few seconds, I was able to gain control.  While I was in control.....I used an energy manipulation technique.  I threw a fireball.  True, Gargos was inside of me, but I was in control-”
     “And now you’re wondering if you could possibly do it again, right?”  The sen’sei cut him off.
     “Yes, master.”
     “Hmm.”  The sen’sei stood, and looked up.  “Normally, it would be impossible for one as young as you to even think about ki manifestation.  Or at least, in our time anyway.”
     “Huh?”
     The sen’sei smiled, and sat down again.  “You were right to come; it’s possible that the talent was forcefully unlocked within you, and maybe we can bring it to fruition.  Don’t expect immediate results, though.  Tell me, do you know the history of ki techniques?”
     “Not really.”  Jago confessed.  “They kicked you out of the Shrine before you could enlighten us.”
     “Well then, before you even begin on this endeavor, you should know the history of the thing you are seeking.  Hmm.....let’s see.....this thing, we call ki manifestation, it has had many names over the years.  Same goes for those who could use it.  Wizards.  Magicians.  Gods.  Witches.  Very few actually knew what it was  For now, I shall call it what the ancient warriors once called it, the mystic art.
     “You see, within your being is a life force, a soul if you will.  Your soul is networked with other souls, and the souls of the environment around you; plants, animals, trees, etc.  If you were truly skilled, you could control the souls of others, and of the environment.  But for now, we will focus on manipulating your own.  With the right amount of training, discipline, focus, and inner peace, you could manifest your own soul into something physical, to be used as you will.  You can use it for healing, creation......even destruction.  Before, it took only a relatively small amount of proper training in order to use the mystic art.  In Greek times, those who used it were considered Gods.  In medieval times, they were considered wizards.  They believed that they needed spells and incantations to use it, when all the time, it was within themselves.
     “In order to use the mystic art, you must be at an extreme state of inner peace.  Total understanding of yourself.  There was no catch that you had to remain at peace to keep the art; what you do with yourself once you’ve gained the mystic art was up to you; which meant it had great destructive potential.  However, as the years progressed, mankind became much more corrupt.  The few who could use the mystic art became even fewer.  Battles became more hate filled and vicious.  There was no more honor in the fight.  With technology like guns and cannons coming about, the mystic art was soon becoming extinct.
     “What man never realized, though, was that the mystic art was more powerful than anything they could ever create.  No weapon would be efficient against the power man has within himself.  However, if man did realize this, the mystic art could be twisted into something horrible, which could possibly lead to the destruction of mankind.  One man knew this; the last of a powerful line of sorcerers.
     “Although no one can be certain, it’s generally believed that it was 300 years ago.  This powerful sorcerer, dressed in a purple cloak, holding a staff fashioned in the image of a dragon, with an orb at the top, climbed the tallest mountain in the land, which, at the time, wasn’t Everest.  He gathered every ounce of energy he had, and with a mighty blow, drove the orb from his staff into the ground; it shattered instantly.  A powerful energy spread across the earth, visible to no one, eventually reaching everyone.  This energy acted as a seal; preventing anyone from using the power of the mystic art, and all their children for generations to come, possibly for all eternity.  This act killed the sorcerer.  From that day forward, no man has been able to use the mystic art, and it’s generally believed that no man ever will be.  That is why the masters at the Shrine didn’t believe in teaching it.
     “It is thought that there are some exceptions to the sorcerers seal.  A man, who is completely pure of heart and at peace with himself and everyone around him will be able to break the seal and use the mystic art.  Another legend says the mystic art will remain locked until mankind needs it most.  There are those who believe that all it takes to break the seal is vigorous training and meditation.”  The master batted an eye towards Jago.  “Still want to try to break the seal?”
     Jago took a deep breath.  “Of course.  I have to try, at least.”
     The sen’sei got up, and wandered over towards Jago.  “It is possible that Gargos’s violation has broken the seal within you.  I can check to see if it has; if it has, we can work on bringing your potential to the surface.  If it hasn’t, I’ll send you on your way.”
     Jago nodded.  The sen’sei stood directly over Jago.  “Now, close your eyes and clear your mind.”
     Jago did as he was asked.  The sen’sei put his hand on Jago’s forehead, closed his eyes and concentrated.
     Suddenly, the sen’sei gasped.  A cold chill ran up his hand, through his forearm, into his head.  His mind and thoughts were filled with disturbing sounds and graphic images.....

     “You don’t understand!  Nothing we have on Earth can possibly stop them!”
     A horrible jumble of pictures and words.....
     “If we fail here, the human race will be no more than a memory.”
     What is this?
     “Orchid!  Orchid!  Are you still alive?  My God.....Orchid.....I have to go now, but I’ll be right back.....don’t die on me.”
     It’s almost.....overwhelming.....
     “No!  Get out of the way!  He’s going to-”
     It’s not the past......
     “Orchid.....Julie.....I’ve failed you both.....I’m so sorry......I-”
     By the Tiger!  It’s the future!  How can this be?!
     “I can’t let you sacrifice yourself like this.....not without me.”
     If then truly is the future.....then mankind is doomed!  I have to do something!  I have to stop it!
     “For all the blood mankind has shed, the time for retribution is now.......”

     “Augh!”  The sen’sei cried out.  He pulled away from Jago, holding his arm.  Jago opened his eyes and looked up.
     “Master!  What’s wrong?”  He called out.
     “Nothing, nothing.”  The sen’sei lied.  He turned away from Jago.  “I’m an old man you understand.  I’m not in the best of health.”
     “Are you okay?”
     “Yes, I’m fine, just give me a second.”  The sen’sei took a few steps away.  “I have do to something.”  he thought.  He turned back towards Jago and slowly approached.  “Well, Jago, it appears that the seal has been broken inside of you after all.”
     “Really?  You mean......”  Jago said, excitedly.
     “Now now, don’t get your hopes up.  The seal has been broken, but there’s no guarantee that you’ll be successful in your attempt to master the mystic art.  But we will try.  We will try tomorrow.  As I said, I’m an old man, and I need my rest right now.  Besides, isn’t that your stew on the fire?  You must be hungry.....”
     “Well......”  Jago said.
     The sen’sei wandered over to the stew, his back turned towards Jago, standing in a way so that he stood in front of the pot.  He reached into his robe and pulled out a small, brown bag, and untied it.  He bent over the pot.  “It smells wonderful.  You always were a decent cook.”
     Jago smiled.  “Thanks.”
     The sen’sei carefully tipped the bag, letting a fine white powder fall into the stew.  He emptied the entire bag; the powder sunk into the broth, becoming an indistinguishable ingredient.  “It looks to be done.  Why don’t you go ahead and eat?  We can start your training in the morning.”
     “Yes master.”  The sen’sei strolled away from the contaminated soup, taking a seat on one of the rocks.  Jago took a bowl and spoon from his bag and went over to the pot.  “Do you want any?”  he asked.
     “No no - I’ve eaten already.”  The sen’sei said.
     Jago shrugged.  He filled his bowl with the stew, took it over to his seat, sat down, then started to eat.  The sen’sei watched him carefully.
     “Eat all of it now, you need your strength.”  The sen’sei said.
     Jago shot the sen’sei a puzzled look, then went back to consuming his stew.
 

     Jago rested his bowl on the rock he was sitting on, the bowl completely empty.
     “I’m still a little hungry.  Better have seconds.”  He said.  He got up and went towards the pot.
     “That’s not really a good idea.”  The sen’sei said.
     “Why not?”
     “Truthfully, it might kill you.”
     “What?”
     “Well, I put something in your stew.  The one dose you’ve already eaten is sufficient, but another one would be harmful, potentially fatal.”
     “What?!”  Jago was shocked.
     “Please, let me explain.  First, you should lie down, as the powder should be taking effect soon.”
     Jago gave the sen’sei a strange, almost angry look.  The sen’sei led him over to one of the larger rocks, and directed Jago to lay down on his back, which he did reluctantly.
     “What did you put in my stew?  And why?”  Jago questioned.
     “It was a mixture of herbs and flowers, ground up into a fine white powder.  It induces a deep, and very lucid sleep.  It makes the victim have very illicit dreams that can actually be manipulated and controlled by outside sources.  Usually, teachers such as myself use this in advanced ninja training.  We give this to our subject, and direct them to dream about their worst fears, so that they may overcome them.  However, in some cases, it can be used to recall actual memories; make the victim relive a few days out of their past.  I have given you this powder because there’s a certain event in your past you need to remember.”
     Jago yawned.  He could feel his strength rapidly draining.  “But why?  What does this have to do with the mystic art?”
     “Not all training is physical, Jago.  Sometimes, to get to where you’re going, you need to know where you’ve been.  There’s certain.....aspects of your past that you maybe have forgotten.  You need to become aware of them again, so that you will be prepared for what awaits you.”
     “I don’t understand....what are you talking about?  What about my past have I forgotten, that’s so important?”
     “Hmm.  Forgotten isn’t appropriate.  Misunderstood is more like it.  For instance, when was the first time you met your sister?”
     Jago gave the sen’sei another confused look.  “Well, it was at the preliminaries for Killer Instinct 7.”
     “Was it really?”
     Jago’s mouth opened slightly.  He yawned again; it was becoming rapidly harder to keep his eyes open.  “How long will I be out?”
     “As long as necessary.  Could be a few days; could be a few weeks.”
     “I don’t.....I don’t.....understand any of this.”
     The sen’sei smiled.  “You will.  In time.  For now, I want you to concentrate.  Think back to three years ago.  It was the final stages of your petition for ninjahood.  One night, four strangers came to the Shrine; two of whom would affect your life profoundly.”
     Jago yawned a final time.  His eyelids shut - for good this time - and his chest heaved up and down slowly, as he slipped out of consciousness, into a deep and powerful sleep.
 
 

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