An Air of Remembrance
I feel that, as a writer I may have been going in the wrong direction. I wanted, and still do want, to write erotica. However, I find it difficult. I can't seem to get into a rhythm when it comes to sex scenes. I stop and stutter and backtrack and it's resulted in files sitting in my computer for months with little headway.
So.
I decided to begin this. It is more story oriented, focusing on reflection and a much smaller world to create. I personally feel pretty good about it and would like to hear what anyone else thinks. I'd have more, but I pulled a very late night doing this.
Three years ago in the championship round of a solo fighting type tournament a disaster took place, drastically altering the life of a young Lucario who found herself on a path to stardom. Later explained as an accident but initially suspected as sabotage or possible terrorist activity, a collapse of the indoor arena's ceiling would become a day not easily forgotten, especially for Naomi.
While brief, there is a troubling section towards the end. Be advised, if you have a triggering fear of claustrophobia this may not be for you.
Breath in. Breath out. Repeat. Once more. Feel the stirring deep inside, a calm whispering wind on its steady journey to a maelstrom. Faster and faster the air whirls through my muscles, demanding action, demanding a ferocious catharsis to reflect my body's inner might unto the world. Visualize the flurry of fist and feet ready to act in this instant to release the hurricane of my aura--
And calm it.
A howling derecho.
Control it.
A stalwart gusting.
Sooth it.
A gentle breeze
Utilize it
Snowflakes carried in a flurry, twirling around me.
Now let it go.
I could hear the gentle hollow sound of polished wood gently colliding in a plethora of quiet notes as her powerful aura expanded past them as it filled the space she occupied to simulate the sanctuary of her soul. A musical and indecipherable language spoke as the oak chimes sang to one another. The Sound mostly absorbed by the paper shoji walls of the room, no echos, no chaos caused by rogue dissonant waves. As it should be. As She should be. As She was. Breath in. Hold it. An instant of an instant passed.
Hurricane
The room flashed by me, red eyes reintroduced to this world. Deep browns of varnished woods, slim columns rising upward holding up the concave pagoda shaped roof encircling the wicker floor I no longer stood upon. My left leg firing me forward so quickly it compressed if only for a moment, paw pads splayed to absorb the crushing force. My opponent hanging from a heavy black cord, floating above the wicker, on the return trip from being pushed so minutely away by my passing aura. This guaranteed me stronger impact, even if only just.
Right shoulder twisting down, left elbow following it's path in perfect synchronization, momentum mounting, contact was certain. A faint into a right-legged over-body bicycle kick impossible for me despite how badly I yearned for that option again, but my opponent didn't know that. A rush coupled with ambiguous body language meant insufficient reaction time for my adversary at the cost of committing to potential vulnerability. Sensory overload, hesitation, miscalculation. My opponent would falter. The bout was mine, but as for the match? No one could say, not until the end. Never until the end.
My elbow bowing the heavy bag in the middle with the calculated force, upper body halting upon its resistance as my hips continue to rotate towards the ground as my body remains horizontal in the air for fleeting immeasurable time before my paws strike firm upon the dojo floor.
PapPap
The space between the footfalls was like a gossamer wing: Imperceptible to a being not deeply focused. The window to exploit any of my imbalance shut with a finality I can taste in the back of my throat. It tastes coppery and dry and exciting. Victory is an inch closer and light years away.
A reposting palm thrown with calculation, the blue fur on my arms snapping in the air like thousands of tiny whips in my sensitive peaked ears. I meet no opposition, with nothing to parry or dodge I pressed my advantage. A true strike from my right snapped from the hip driving the bag backwards, a step right into a spin in the same direction with my left shoulder leading, never relinquishing balance with my left elbow swinging out now, ready to feel the blow connect. I faint the would-be rib shot before it lands! From below my left leg strikes upward, seviper like, as it curls up when my back shows to the bag, then lashing out like a keening blade. The impact travels through my entire frame while it becomes horizontal again, powerful core facing the ground with my leg driving into my target forming a bridge held up by my right leg. It holds me aloft, suddenly as loyal as three years ago. Arms swing upwards and back in counterbalance before I tumble forward into a roll, stand, turn with a swivel of sure paws that draw a satisfying creaking from the wicker floor.
The bag swings back to its crest, and begins traveling towards me with vengeful intent in eyes it does not possess. It was a clumsy charge, but steady and confident. I smile almost curls my black lips, but my discipline endures. Victory more comparable to the distance between earth and the moon, drawing the tides of my blood up and up. I dive forward, roll, spring up with right leg back, left forward. My hips twist to bring my right leg to bear in a stopping side kick.
How quickly I forgot myself. The one poorly laid brick in the masonry shaking me to my being as I realize my fatal misstep. Never until the end I remind myself far too late. Never until the end can one say for sure who is owed victory. Sucking in a sharp hiss of breath I tuck my right leg in and pirouette away. The flat of my back nearly brushing against the bag as it swings by leaving me unscathed, but defeated all the same. Defeated then and defeated now.
The hurricane becomes a tornado, twisting my stomach into a knot wound around thousands of times. The chimes rattle, questioning me or perhaps each other, bouncing in my mind and the dojo in a cacophony that made me shiver at how familiar it sounded. Panic. Fear. The honest concern a bulwark in a dark, crushing and cold place. They want an explanation. So would I. Arceaus above, so would I. But I was offered no such closure. Given only a reminder. My paw reached for my right leg unconsciously before I stopped myself.
Eyes closed, not that it mattered as I fooled myself into thinking that the darkness was caused by my own sensory deprivation.
Breath in. Breath out.
Repeat. Please. Repeat
But my lungs were unable to fill under such a weight, although they did now. I reached up to feel the spike protruding from her chest. The conical point no longer as sharp as it was, appearing blunted by a crushing force, jagged scratches marring its shine.
Breath in. _Breath. **IN.
**_
After an eternity, there was light as the door to the dojo slid open.