Acanthus

[You have been invited to a party by Freyd. Accept/Decline]. Last chance, Acanthus. You have no idea what you’re getting into. She looked up and saw that the man had dropped his cowl. His eyes were expressive: mischievous, but careworn. Looking at him, she couldn’t help but feel it was ok to trust him. I mean, sharks aren’t that big, right? Even if they’re mutated? As they walked out the main gates of Fortaleza, Freyd began describing the quest, and what they needed to do. Acanthus hung onto every word. She was getting a sense for how dangerous this was. One wrong move, and the shark

THREAD SUMMARY EXP Gained: 300 (Quest) + ((4,751/10) * 2 * 1) = 1,250 * 2 (New player recruitment) = 2,500 EXP Col: 400 (1 page * 400) = 400 col <<Martial Arts>> Unlocked <<TECH-F>> Sword Art Unlocked

“You have harnessed your inner strength and learned to channel it outward, proving your worth. I am proud to call you my student.” Acanthus bowed deeply to him. “Thank you, Sensei. I will remember your lessons.” He approached, and wrapped her hands in gauze. “Let’s return to the dojo. I have some ointment and tea to share before you make your journey back down the mountain." Back in the dojo, the Master poured Acanthus a cup of piping hot green tea. The ointment on her freshly rewrapped knuckles was already beginning to take effect. “I feel like a new person.” She said out loud.

Steadily, Acanthus worked into a rhythm. Draw the wrist to the waist, drive the punch. Crack. Draw the wrist to the waist, drive the punch. Crack. Her father had now appeared. He was pacing behind her, seething like someone who didn’t understand “No.” He barked at her like a drill sergeant. A lady behaves. Crack. A lady is quiet. Crack. A lady never asks. Crack. Or wants. Crack. She merely provides. Crack. These are the things you are meant for. Crack. I do this because I care about you. Crack. I want you to live up to our family name. Crack. Her wrists were numb, her

Progress was glacial, but each strike shook the boulder. It’s only a matter of time. She began to wonder what her father would say to this. Shouting, throwing punches… It was certainly most “unbecoming” he would have ever seen her. He would take one look at her gi and say, “Don’t dress in rags.” Crack. He would look at the sweat rolling off of her and say, “Don’t exert yourself—allow me.” Crack. He would look at her knuckles, red and bare, and say “You are ruining yourself.” Crack. She drove her fists into the boulder harder than before. I will dress how I want. I will

She could no longer see it, but she felt the rock as she struck it. It did not reverberate with a full, solid feel. It was yielding to her strength. No, not my strength. My patience. Patience had always been her greatest attribute. She did not believe she was naturally strong, or athletic, or intelligent. Anything she had achieved in sports or school was the result of her tenacity. She studied until she slept. She practiced until she could no longer get it wrong. Whenever her task was not barred by time, she knew she would succeed. I have as long as it takes. I know I can do thi

Crack. That’s not true. Crack. Here you are, thinking about lessons if you get back. Crack. When you get back. Then why did I wait until now to feel that way? I never wanted to upset dad. Crack. It seemed like he was happier when I wasn’t in karate. But he also seemed happier when my aunt was around. Crack. So what happened? Does it matter? Crack. Sweat was pouring off of Acanthus’ brow and into her eyes. Rather than wiping them, she closed them. The boulder isn’t moving, and neither am I. Relying on her forms and steps, she continued attacking the boulder. She imagined her

Without losing focus, she tried switching up her movements. She practiced by running through the stationary forms. She practiced shifting her weight from foot to foot. And as she follow some of the gentler forms, she tried weaving in explosive movements from the other forms. Crack. Each time her mind began to wander, she recalled the overpowering sensation of the waterfall crashing down around her, and she imagined it washing away all other thoughts. Crack. Her past flowed away from her. The present rushed by in a river of timelessness. And the future would not arrive until the boulder ha

Breathing deeply, she poised for another strike. The thought of hitting solid rock intimidated her. Don’t think about the target, think about the blow. Crack. The sound of her knuckles connecting with the boulder echoed off the mountain. She heard a flock of birds from below. The master remained quiet, but his eyes spoke encouragement. Her pain indicators went off. They were distracting her. Just like the waterfall. With a deep breath, the pain indicators faded from a buzz into a barely audible hum. She struck the rock again. Crack. The hum strengthened, and Acanthus took another dee

“I see you’ve fully honed your mind. You’ve done well. You are ready to finish your training.” “Am I here to split the boulder?” The Master nodded. “Take as much time as you need. Remember your training, and begin when you are ready.” Acanthus squared off with the boulder. Standing up straight, she offered it a small bow. The Master gave a dry, wheezing laugh. “I don’t see that very often.” Acanthus said matter-of-factly, “it may be just a boulder, but it is my opponent nonetheless.” Drawing in a deep breath, Acanthus spread her feet and bent her knees. She drew her fists b

Acanthus changed into a dry gi the Master had left for her. It no longer felt like an awkward fit. She walked slowly and methodically, still deep in her own thoughts as she climbed the stairs. She had blocked out so much of her life at home—why did it take a video game to come to terms with her past? Does it matter? You are here, and you are moving forward. The top of the stairs reached the summit of the mountain. Her unease of heights buzzed in the back of her brain, but she blocked it like she had the pressure from the waterfall. The master waited for her, sitting next to a ma

I am here because I can be. I need no other reason. The sense of water around her dulled. The waterfall continued to pummel her, but blocking out the sensation seemed as easy as holding her breath. I am not here to prove myself right, or my family wrong. That does not matter. What matters is that I am here because I choose to be here. I don’t need to be “good enough.” I don’t need to fit whatever mold I’ve shaped for myself, or my family has shaped for me. I am the waterfall around me—my form and shape may change, but I will always be water. Call it what you will, expect from it what

A lady such as yourself. Memories rushed back to her. Her father talking to her kindly but sternly. Teaching her how to act, and how to behave. You must dress like this. You must eat like this. Do not laugh too loudly. I do this because I love you. I want you to be the best person you can be. A good daughter. A good wife. She had been six. To her, a father was still a figure of impassable authority. He knew best. Really, he knew everything. So if she needed to be a good daughter, she would do just that. The water washed away her thoughts. It washed away those commands left by those a

She had not let her martial arts classes go when she was seven like she remembered. Her mind focused, overcoming the onslaught of the water around her. She stood in the doorway of her father’s office. She had come home from University for break. She was ready to confront him about his letter. She wanted to take taekwondo as an elective, and he had refused. “You cannot.” “Does that mean you prohibit me, or you do not believe in me?” He remained silent. “I cannot force your hand. But I will not pay for you to learn things that do not further your education.” “You paid fo

Time had lost all meaning. Acanthus merely wandered from thought to thought. She remembered sadly listening to her friends talk about all the things they learned in karate class. She remembered seeing her father burning letters addressed to Haru. She remembered the happiness in her father’s face as she slowly quieted down with age, and let the issue of karate classes die. The water enveloped her. It was a steady, dull kind of pain. Something that helped guide her thoughts and emotions. It was a stimulus that forced her back into reality, and then prompted her to block it out as she rememb

But things got worse when her aunt stopped visiting. Nobody would tell Haru why. Her mother always seemed eager to change the subject. Her father would give her the same brusque answer each time: “She made a choice to act in a way unbecoming of herself and her family. She has left.” Even in the pouring water, Acanthus felt tears on her cheeks, washed away as they formed. After her aunt left, Haru’s father changed. It was an almost imperceptible shift. He was sadder, and harsher. His stoic demeanor had solidified even further. Six months after her aunt’s last visit, he pulled Haru out

Acanthus was acutely aware of the icy water. Thrust back into the present. Her mind began to wander. When will I know why I’m here? Again, these quests and their strange, philosophical requirements. Maybe there’s a timer. I’m not sure I want to keep thinking about family right now. I’m already homesick, and lingering on all the bad doesn’t do me any good. And it wasn’t all bad either. She thought about the times that she would go out with her family. They would go shopping together, and she would try on dresses with her mother. They often stopped somewhere for dessert. Even back then

Water pounded Acanthus. It battered her head and shoulders, and drenched her entirely. She used that feeling to focus herself further. Harnessing the physical feeling of the water, she remembered the kicks and blows she practiced as a child. She remembered coming home and showing her family. Her mother complimented her passively, her father gave tight-lipped praise. But her aunt… She always showed her aunt everything she learned. Her aunt loved to watch Acanthus—Haru—throw her chaotic kicks with the passion of a child learning new things. Anytime her aunt stopped by, Haru would talk her e

Why am I here? It wasn’t just to enjoy the view. It wasn’t just to conquer her fear of heights. And it wasn’t even as simple as being something she could never do in real life. There was something more to it. Something deeper. She focused inward. She wanted this experience. All of it. The good, the bad, the painful. She had been denied before. A shame, given how happily everything started. Haru brought the form home joyfully. Her mother regarded her with the same warm happiness she always did. Her father eyed the form carefully, as though it might sprout teeth and attack them al

The “seat” in question was a slick rock overlooking the grounds of the dojo. It was slick because of the hundreds of gallons pouring onto it. Part of Acanthus doubted that she would not be worn into nothing by the pouring water, but she trusted the Master. It’s time to stop doubting others—and myself. Without a word, she moved to the rock, and sat down with crossed legs. The world was instantly drowned in the roaring waterfall. The wind and birds of the dojo were washed away, and even the Master’s voice was dull. “When you have honed your mind, come and find me at the top of the staircase

Five days into her training, Acanthus slowed into her final pose. From a crane position, she brought her raised leg out, setting it down gently, across the narrow path as she had been instructed. The Master regarded her approvingly. “Excellent work. There are no more forms to teach you at this time.” Acanthus bowed. I can’t believe I started this quest on a whim, and here I am treating it like its the real thing. She thought somewhat bitterly about how none of this would translate into the real world. First thing out of Aincrad, I’m finding a class. The thought surprised her. She had

“Demonstration is over. Let us return to the forms.” One by one, the Master taught her. 24-step simplified form. Lee-style short form. 8-step silk reeling. She struggled to keep up with the Master, but he was patient with her. After her fifth failure in executing the strikes of the silk reel, she made a disappointed sound. “Be patient with yourself. You are learning a lifetime of movements in a matter of days.” It really has been days, hasn’t it? She had anticipated the quest being simple: climb a mountain, talk to the man, and leave. Instead, time had flown by as she learned the dif

“Already you have mastered the first form. Let us move on to the others.” “Sensei…” She struggled with how to phrase her question. “I… I’m not exactly built for martial arts. Shouldn’t I… I should be weight training, or something?” The Master gave her a hard look. “Who put that thought into your mind?” She is a girl. If she stays in this class, she will get hurt. I won’t pay for my daughter to be thrown around by a bunch of boys twice her size. “I… It was just a thought.” The Master moved over to one of the sparring dummies. “Look at me, apprentice. Describe me.”

“Let us start with basic footwork and breathing. I know that it may seem simple, but even these must be mastered to move forward. Spread your feet. Bend at the knees. Feel your center of gravity lower, but not falter.” Acanthus followed each instruction as it was given, taking deep breaths between each step. Instantly, she felt her body relax. I was made for this. The master regarded her form. “A strong grasp of the basics. Have you studied before?” Maintaining her stance, she responded. “Yes, Sensei. But I was very young, and I did not stay for long.” “I see. A shame. Let

With a final push, she crawled over the ledge on her stomach. An old man sat serenely at the cliff face, admiring the view. “Ah, a new student. Welcome.” The monastery had a humble beauty to it. A crashing waterfall framed the simple dojo, unpainted but well-kept. Around the dojo, a sprawling garden served as the only decoration. A winding staircase in the background disappeared up the mountain with little fanfare. She wondered where it went off to. The teacher followed her gaze and chuckled. “In good time. There are tasks for you to complete first.” Acanthus returned wearing a