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Karate master

“Introspection” by Martin Maenza

A brown haired man in his late thirties sat upon a straw mat, his legs in the lotus position and his brown eyes firmly closed. The day had been a long one with many unforeseen interruptions to the normal routine at the kwoon. Aaron Brannett decided a little extra evening meditation might be of some help.

Suddenly, there was a quiet yet firm rap upon the door.

Aaron opened his eyes and said, in Chinese, “enter.”

The door opened and a small Chinese girl, about six years old with long black hair, carefully entered the room. In her hands was a simple metal tray with a covered dish and a cup of steaming tea. She slowly walked into the room, mindful of her steps, and then proceeded to place the tray upon a wooden small table.

With one fluid motion, Aaron rose from the floor. He smiled as he watched her.

Lie Tung was new to the school, an orphan that was brought to the school for she had no where else to go. Some on the staff had voiced concern about taking in someone so young, but Aaron would not hear of it. He felt a youthful presence and a general sense of innocence was something the place severely lacked. He said he would be responsible for the child’s upbringing himself. The staff then fell in line, giving her an extended family of sorts.

When the tray reached its destination, not a drop spilled, Lie Tung turned and bowed to the master.

“Thank you,” Aaron said with a bow, first in Chinese and then in English. He did the later in hopes to teach the child a second language. He knew it would take time, but he also knew she was young enough and receptive enough to pick it up. It would help him too stay fresh in his native tongue.

The young girl nodded, bowed again and made her way to the door.

Just beyond the door frame, Aaron could see a large Chinese man trying to keep to the shadows. He nodded to the fifty eight year old who acted as his direct servant; Ti Cheh nodded back in acknowledgement and closed the door once Lie Tung had exited the quarters.

The brown haired man took a seat on the straw mat next to the table. He lifted the small plate that covered the top of simple gray bowl which was hand painted with a lotus blossom on one side, and released a small cloud of steam into the air. From the aroma, he could guess what was on the menu this evening.

Steamed rice and peapods, he thought. What I wouldn’t give for the occasional Double Biggie Burger with the works and a side of onion rings.

He sighed slightly, picked up the set of chopsticks that were on the tray and began to eat his meal. As he ate, his eyes wandered around the lantern lit room with his thoughts not straggling too far behind.

Both stopped when they reached a small wooden dresser that stood near the foot of his straw bed. Upon the dresser sat a picture in a simple wooden frame, one of the few personal effects Aaron had brought with him when he returned to the training school in 1982.

The picture was one he knew quite well.

The picture, taken in 1978, was of a group of eleven costumed individuals that included him, when he was known as Karate Master. The placement of the individuals was forever etched his mind. Robert lovingly with his arm around Lisa. Alan and Fredrick always talking about medicine. Sandy discussing fashion tips with Geeva. Xanis, the proud father, toasting Morga and his new son-in-law Roebrt. And Jagrinn and I sharing a laugh.

It was the wedding day of those the world knew as Star Light and Robotman.

We all seemed so happy then. The Destroyers had been eradicated once and for all, and Roebrt had returned home to find out he was a father. All seemed right with the world. Even Sub-Zero’s crashing of the reception couldn’t have ruined that day.

Aaron sighed again.

But things always change.

Jagrinn, the Man-Wolf, was slain by his own brother shortly thereafter. Rubberman lost his wife to cancer a year later. And Star Light had been killed just a month ago.

Even his own life changed drastically since that happy day over eight years ago.

Without even realizing it, Aaron found himself standing before the dresser. He extended the index finger of his right hand and traced it along the glass that kept the picture secure in the frame. It was cool to the touch.

He sighed once more, took a slight step back and opened up the top drawer of the dresser. Buried in back, behind some clothing items, was a single metal object. He reached in, felt for it and pulled it carefully out. It was rectangular in shape with a cover that flipped open to reveal a number of buttons.

My communicator.

It was the device that was given to him when he joined the Justice Gang.

Perhaps I could touch base…just for old time’s sake.

He paused for a moment and then put the communicator back into the drawer. He then closed the drawer firmly.

No. It’s better left for another time.

It was hard enough for him going back for Star Light’s funeral. Because of the circumstances, he was able to avoid having to answer difficult questions. To call back now would put the spotlight squarely on him. And though some would understand the decisions he made, he preferred not to have to explain himself to others.

If they need me, really need me, they know how to contact me. And he knew that they would be there if he ever really needed their help.

Aaron turned to the only other decoration in the plain chambers, a framed portrait on the far wall. It was one that Li Kien had given him shortly after he moved back to the kwoon permanently. Done in charcoals, it was a portrait of Shih Weiqian, Aaron’s sifu and Kien’s former employer.

This was the reason Aaron had left the rest of the world behind.

It was Sifu Weiqian who taught him the most important lessons of life and who helped him find balance and order in the chaos around him. The ancient Chinese master helped Aaron to grow into a responsible and productive adult.

Aaron owed it to the man’s memory to keep the kwoon running and to keep the spirit of Weiqian’s teachings alive.

A lone tear formed in Aaron’s left eye; he hardly noticed it as it ran down his cheek.

No, Weiqian was more than just a teacher.

Like his comrades in the Justice Gang, his sifu was like family. Yet where the other heroes were more like siblings he never had, Weiqian was more of a father figure – much more so than Aaron’s biological father. The old Chinese master passed down the secrets and stories of generations past in hopes that Aaron too would carry on the tradition.

Aaron knew he was doing the right thing.

The American-born man quickly regained his composure and returned to the table only to find what was left of his dinner had now gotten cold.

He picked up the tray, carried it to his door, opened the door and placed the tray on the floor outside. Ti Cheh would have Lie Tung fetch it later on as part of her chores.

Aaron’s first thought was to return to meditation once more.

No, he thought. I’ve spent enough time on introspection for one night.

He needed something to clear his head.

Perhaps a good work out with some of the new students might be in order.

And with that, he left his quarters and headed for the training room.