The student – Mya Stevens

Another brilliant piece from a GUNNAS WRITING MASTERCLASS WRITER  

The first time she saw it, her heart stopped. How could something so amazing, so beautiful, be on this earth? How was such perfection possible? She’d never seen a sword like this. To her, living in this little Japanese village surrounded by beauty for the last seven years, perfection and tradition had become commonplace. But this…the shape of its hilt, a pommel with a beautiful gold signature weave, the gleam of the blade in the sunlight. It was perfectly balanced; the weight of the hilt was the exact weight of the blade. She should know, she’d held plenty of swords – and knew how to use them.

The temperature dropped suddenly, with a cool and sinister breeze from the south. The village had, up until now, been enjoying a brief spell of sunny spring weather. But this quick lash of cold made her suspicious that this was in fact an omen. Why had the wind changed upon her holding this blade?

Whilst on an expedition to Hong Kong with her Sensei, he had given her a two dollar coin. She had stared at it in her palm for so long. He instructed her to do whatever she wished with it; but her choices would be noted. She could keep it, spend it on frivolous things, buy food or give it to someone needier than herself.

It was difficult to believe that anyone could be needier than she. Having come from extreme poverty in the outskirts of Hiroshima, scraping together enough for even one meal a day was commonplace. Her only toy growing up had been a cheap plastic whistle that she’d found on the side of the road. Having never seen one before, she was quite startled when, by accident, had blown into it and heard its voice. She still carried that whistle around with her as a token of the days before she left that horrible place. Family that treated her like a stray dog. Associates who used her in any way necessary to earn quick cash. She would one day have vengeance, and the whistle’s song reminded her of the promise she’d made herself.

Her Sensei was a wise man who had met her by accident. He found her bloodied and beaten on the streets of Okayama, the city closest to the village where he taught his students. She struggled for many years after joining his college, and suffered from terrible claustrophobia. Instead of sleeping inside the traditional paper walls with the other students, she would choose to sleep outside on the deck – in case she needed to escape without warning. The screaming through the night was not missed by those inside. The memory of being raped and enclosed in a garbage receptacle on its way to the processing plant had ensured a lifetime of nightmares and mental issues. She was by far the most damaged of his students, but this did not mean that she could not achieve greatness. A tremendous power was within this girl, everyone knew it. It was his responsibility to guide her towards light and truth, rather than allow her be eaten by remorse and revenge.

Her Sensei always seemed so happy and relaxed to her. This was in stark contrast to her black, eaten soul which would never rest. As far as she was concerned, her life was coloured one way and there was no going back. He would try; the beautiful, Buddha-like man that he was, and she adored him for it. But in her heart knew it would never work.

Finally, on this day, she received her first weapon. The Sensei’s students had to work and study for many years before a weapon was granted to them. This was her day. She had been so excited about the promise of something beautiful and pure being hers, and truly earned. It was so unbearable that she hadn’t slept properly in weeks. And now, it was in her hands. Its beauty. Its magnificence.

But what did the cool wind mean?

The fellow students felt it when she held the sword. She glanced around like a cornered animal at her fellow peers, knowing that they all knew. She dreaded looking upon her Sensei’s face. But her eyes found his and it could not have been worse. His usual bright, forgiving features now showed sorrow and, for the first time, fear.

What had she done? It was not her fault that the wind had changed. Did it mean anything? She knew it. Her peers knew it.

The moment stretched an eternity; time was frozen. She knew now the one thing she had to do. The only thing she could do. After seven years in the loveliest place she’d ever been, surrounded by the most accepting souls, taken in from the cold. She turned to the village gates, and ran as fast as she could. What waited for her on the other side she did not know.

 

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