Calling Card (Psyren x FSN -Nasuverse): Arc 2 – Chapter 9
The world flashes as I land on my back. The pain blends with the aches already driven into my flesh, leaving me as a mass of agony. If I knew this was how today was going to go, I would have stayed at home.
“On your feet, Matou. You can rest once you’ve shown improvement.”
The insufferable tone of the Student President’s voice makes me grit my teeth. I force my upper body to rise so that my glare shifts from the ceiling of the Guest Room of the Ryuudou Temple to the pain in my ass responsible for putting here. “Tell that to my aching back. You could have at least placed a mat down here.”
“The pain serves as motivation and I can heal most of the injuries you accumulate if there’s a need for it. Now rise.”
“Just because you can heal doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.” The last hour has been nothing but pain with no end in sight. In all honesty, I shouldn’t be surprised after yesterday that their idea of training Rise was to beat it into you.
“Whoa!” A shout and then ‘thud’ draws my attention to the other side of the large room, where Ayako has spent the last hour manhandling the idiot when he rushes her. Again she’s sent him tumbling to the mat after a trip into the air. Unlike me though, Gai manages to get right back up no worse for wear since he’s already gotten good enough at Rise to strengthen his body to take the beating.
“Remember, visualization is the key.” The asshole lectures me when he sees me standing again. “Picture yourself being faster and stronger—needing to be. That desire will call to the energy within you and thread your body with it.”
I don’t need him to tell me that. Visualization isn’t the problem. I can do that just fine. In fact, the desire to be strong enough to punch him in the face has served just fine to kick-start the process, sending warmth coursing through my muscles to dull the pain.
He sees it with those special eyes of his, glasses set aside for the duration of practice. It serves as the signal for him to attack. He closes the distance and thrust his fist out like a spear.
I move to get out of the way, only for the warmth to fade from my body as quickly as it came. The pain returns and stalls my attempt to move. So I get hit and a fresh wedge of pain is driven deep inside of me like a hammer would a nail.
He doesn’t stop his assault. Even though he has to be able to see that I’m not using Rise with those eyes of his, he doesn’t stop attacking. Instead, he drives his other fist into my left shoulder. It causes pain to blossom and take root into the bones there.
“You have to maintain it! Want the pain to stop! Want your body to be stronger!”
“I’m trying!” I attempt to twist my body as he spears his palm towards my chest, warmth spreading and stopping the pain as it swaddles my muscles. It lasts just long enough to avoid his attack but falters when I try to swing my fist towards his face.
He does a half-turn to avoid it and then drives his fist into my stomach. When I go down, clutching the spot, he crosses his arms and looks annoyed. “You have to maintain the image. If I have to continue to drive pain into your body to get that lesson in, I will.”
I clutch my stomach and snarl at him through clenched teeth. “Never… took you… for… a sadist.”
“I take no pleasure in this.” That’s a lie if I ever heard one. “But I cannot coddle you as Mitsuzuri-kun did yesterday. Burst may hold the most offensive potential, but Rise is the most essential to saving your life. If you can’t strengthen your body then all it takes is one solid hit from a Taboo to kill you.”
“I keep saying that it’s not working like that for me.” He just doesn’t get it. I can start the process of using Rise and generate the energy to strengthen my body, but I can’t maintain it for more than a second. It’s like a car that you can start up but it stops working after a moment. The ignition and fuel aren’t the problem, it’s something else entirely.
Damn it. I hate this. I hate it because it only serves to reinforce what I thought earlier. I have no real talent in Rise as I didn’t in Burst and, as much as I hate to admit it, he’s simply too talented compared to me. Someone naturally-talented can’t teach someone who isn’t talented.
“I’d be better off training with Mitsuzuri again than you.”
Ayako takes a moment to look up from the arm-lock she’s placed on Gai to chime in at that. “It’s better if it’s him who does it. He can see the aura of your power, so he’ll be able to assess your progress better.”
A sharp breath fills my lungs as I try to stand again. I don’t think he’s fractured or cracked anything. Even I can tell he’s intentionally placing his strikes to avoid doing anything that’s fatal. But I really don’t feel like getting kicked around for the rest of the day.
“You all say that multiple trips will strengthen my powers. So why not wait until the next one comes and goes before we try again?”
He refuses to budge on it. “Even discounting that your chances of survival drop the less of the basics you have down by the time the next call comes in, it becomes harder to use them properly when they scale. That’s why we need to ensure that it sticks now.”
“Can we at least take a break until the pain stops?”
“The pain only hinders it if you allow it to.” He takes up a fighting stance. “Now, ready yourself.”
There’s no reasoning with him. His determination to apparently beat the lesson into me is unyielding unless I show results. I can’t help but wonder if gaining all those powers screwed with his head more than the others. The Old Worm didn’t have extensive research on them, but like any magus worth his weight in salt and mysteries he had enough for me to learn to get a solid grasp on it last night.
Psychic powers were the result of a mutation that gave one an abnormal perception of reality that moved away from what humans as a whole could perceive. And that very same abnormal perception, an unnecessary and cumbersome “extra channel” as it’s considered, often drove them away from society as a whole because they saw the world too differently from normal people.
Psychicers weren’t exactly psychics in the sense that we weren’t born with those mutations. But I’m willing to bet that on some level that those who had stronger or more varied powers had their perspectives warped to a greater extent than someone who didn’t. In his case, his ability to heal has probably twisted his understanding of what pain does to someone constantly exposed to it in the long-run and left him believing that the physical pain and suffering is worth the gains from it as long as you don’t die from it.
At this rate he’ll break me, only to fix me up and break me again until the end of the day. If I want the pain to stop, I need to strike him down first.
No sooner than I come to that conclusion does he come for me, kicking off the ground.
I swing my fist towards him, knuckles first aiming for the center of his forehead. He doesn’t dodge it. He doesn’t need to. He simply slams his other arm upwards, knocking mine aside. Then he delivers a vicious palm-strike to my chest.
“Urgh!” The impact spreads throughout the rest of my rib cage and stalls me with pain. Another strike follows. It hits me from below, slamming into my chin. Stars come into view as my consciousness flickers for a moment.
In the span of that blink in time, he disappears from my vision like magic. Then I feel a sledgehammer slamming into my back. He’d gotten around me and lowered his stance before sliding forward to drive his elbow into my ribcage from behind.
“Agh!” It sends me staggering forward a few steps, leaving me holding the spot with my hand. But he’s close enough to that I can hit him now. That thought catches my legs before they can give out. I remain standing for the sake of lashing out with my fist in an effort to take his head off, desire boiling down my spine and nerves before reaching the arm.
He lowers his stance further—no, he drops his body and spins into a sweeping strike that knocks my legs away and leaves me falling to a knee. The sensation of the other one crashing into the floor is painful enough that I wonder if it ended up turning to jelly. But I see his hand getting ready to come again.
I protect my face. My face is one of my best features as a person. I can’t afford to have him damage it, I don’t care if he can heal me or not. So I raise both my arms to will myself to be able to withstand it, strength coursing through my body to withstand the blow.
So he goes for a grab instead. Leaping over my shoulder while grasping the collar of the borrowed temple gi and one of my arms, he pulls me along his path. Then he slams me down into the ground with a hard ‘thud’ that adds to the pain I’m in.
The cycle repeats when I manage to get back up. The bruises pile up. The agony increases further.
But the message doesn’t carry to him that it’s no good, no matter how many times I say it. He’s intent on making it so that the only option for me is to weather his blows by forcing my entire body to harden like stone or strike as swift as the wind. A second of strength to attack will do me no good since he’ll only dodge it. A second of strength to defend will do me no good since he’ll time his attack to hit the moment it wears off. It’s like something out of those old martial arts films.
I force myself to my feet and try to hammer him again with a blow as hard as I can manage again. My drive to strike him down no longer stems from a desire to hurt him, but self-preservation. It’s the thought of being in more pain and suffering than I already go through every night over some idiot being unable to understand that just because you can heal physical pain doesn’t mean it won’t linger in the mind as a phantom sensation, that drives me to fight back.
It’s still no good. Even when he’s close enough that I can feel the heat coming off his body, he’s simply too fast for me to strike down. He avoids it and then grabs my forearm with one hand to pull me off-balance while chambering the other.
I try to raise my other hand to block as his muscles tense, but pain lances through it from the last blow it’d taken. It won’t move in time. I have to dodge it. But he has a grip on my other arm, limiting my movements. I can break free if I boost myself, but then there was a matter of timing.
Get the timing.
Too fast and he’ll have enough time to strike back when it wears out.
Get the timing!
Too slow and he’ll land the hit.
Get the timing!!
His muscles uncoil as his chambered fist fires forward like a bullet towards me.
I have to get the timing down perfectly!
A painful jolt surges through my brain in response. Everything slows down as a niggling warmth permeates my brain. His fist moves sluggishly, like the air’s density has turned to molasses. I try to move out of its way, but my body feels slow and numb. It’s no good if I can’t move fast enough, so I will my body to move.
The sensation permeating my mind sinks down further, threading my body. At the same time, things begin to move faster as the sensation lessens. I barely get my head out of the way and then pour all of my strength in striking him back in the face with a cross-counter as time returns to normal.
I’ve got him! I’ve—WHUMP!
“So, let me see if I have this straight?”
The Monk stands in front of us at a distance of a little over a yard, eyeing the damage done to the space between us. The floor between us had been caved in, the tatami and wooden floorboards beneath it splintered under the weight of my body. Apparently, his brother avoided my punch by twisting into where he had grabbed my arm and then threw me into the ground, while invoking his own Rise at the same time judging from the fact that there was a large hole in it.
I say apparently because I didn’t remember anything between nearly hitting him, a flash of pain, and then waking up and feeling good as new.
“The training you were putting Matou-kun through dragged on to the point where, in an effort to get results, you pressed him in hopes of creating the necessary conditions to force him to maintain the effect. Then, at the end, he abruptly got the drop on you and caused you to reflexively trigger your own Rise and throw him into the floor hard enough to do this much damage? ”
“That is correct. To my shame, I overreacted—” Liar. “—and ended up using more strength than I intended as the abrupt change in his speed, posture, and power caught me off-guard. To that end, I prioritized healing his injuries after I realized my mistake.”
His brother sighs. “It’s good that you managed to undo the damage—” He looks down to the floor “—or at least the important damage, but you have to take it slower next time. Not everyone is a fast learner like you and can put up with that sort of training.”
“Your praise is once more misguided. I didn’t take to it well. I merely worked my hardest to ensure that I was capable of supporting the rest of you. To that end, I was attempting to ensure that he was capable of doing the same and blundered.”
A rumble slips out of my throat. There. That right there is the reason I didn’t like him: the fake modesty.
It’s one thing for him to be good at seemingly everything, on top of having multiple exclusive abilities. But the way he tried to play it off as though it’s nothing special really pissed me off, because that’s the definition of someone special—excelling at things without any difficulties that others couldn’t.
They didn’t need to make themselves inferior to others. They didn’t need to pretend to be humble. As much as I hated to admit it, he fits that definition here and now. So the fact that he knows it and pretends otherwise rubs me the wrong way.
The Monk turns to me next. “As for you, that was really careless as well. If you had managed to connect when you tried to hit him while using Rise, you could have killed him. Never aim for the head while sparring with your power active, understand?”
I nod, if only because I didn’t feel like being lectured further. The asshole would’ve had it coming though. I tried to cut things earlier and he wouldn’t let me.
He stares at me for a moment before continuing. “As for what you explained happen to you, I believe that managed to artificially induce what’s normally called the ‘Tachy Psyche’ effect. It’s when you feel like time has slowed down because your mind is processing information faster. If I had to guess, your body isn’t suitable for using Strength-Rise as much as Sense-Rise, but since you’re still using Rise energy it’s divided up depending on which you’re prioritizing.”
…I see. He was moving too fast so I instinctively increased the rate at which I could process information, lengthening my perception of time to get the timing, but not my body’s ability to match it. It was the same sensation as when you were watching your death come for you but being unable to stop it. When I tried to correct that the energy had to be divided and the effect wasn’t as smooth as it should have been, so I decided once I was clear of his punch to put everything into hitting him as fast as I could. “Sounds about right.”
“Well, there was no lasting harm done, so we’ll call this a lesson for everyone.” The Monk’s tone dulls a note, thinning out the air of strictness that bound it. “And now we know you probably lean more to the Sense aspect of Rise, rather than Strength. With enough time and training you’ll probably be able to cycle through them more effectively or spread it for an even balance, but we’ll have to work out something until then.”
“Great, but can I go home now?” That gets me a couple of looks from the rest of them. “I’ve got things planned later on and I need sleep before I can do anything.”
“… Fair enough,” he says. “Now, if the rest of you will excuse me, I need to get the spare mats and floorboards. Believe it or not, this isn’t the first time that’s happened.”