Memories of Mei

18. Year: 1242 SL (Summer)

In the heat of my eighth summer, Eomma handed me a real sword for the first time. I remember the way my heart pounded in my chest with trepidation for I knew from that moment on I was no longer just practicing the art of a hero, but instead becoming one.

Under the oak tree, Eomma and I kneeled in the grass with our blades in front of us. Before I was ever to wield the blade in combat, Eomma ensured that I first knew the responsibilities and the gravity of that sword.

"You have shown me that within you resides the courage, poise, and resiliency to begin this path, but I remind you, Mei, this is only the beginning. From here on out, do not seek fame, do not seek fortune, and do not seek popularity. Instead, seek discipline."

My awestruck eyes stared at my mother with undivided attention. This was the moment I had been waiting for; I was finally going to be a hero. Well, at least that is how my childish mind saw it. Every word she spoke in our native tongue sounded like poetry, or a bird singing early in the morning. Not even two summers prior to this, this moment was just a dream.

"Mei, listen to me. What is our first priority?"

Like the well-trained soldier I became, I recited the teachings I learned.

"To win without fighting, for our limitations are tested before our work ethic, integrity, and authenticity are seen because we are rewarded in public for what we achieve in private."

Eomma nodded her head with a flat expression, but behind her stoic face lay a proud mother.

"Very good. Now, before going into combat what must first be considered?"

My eyes drifted to the grass dancing in the summer breeze as I forced my posture to remain strong and my appendages to be plastered in place. While wracking my brain for the proper answer, I gathered all that I was taught into a cohesive answer.

"There are seven considerations before battle. Number one, which of the two factions is imbued with the moral law? Number two, which of the two combatants is most able? Three, with which party lies the benefits derived from nature and the prime elements? Number four, on which side is discipline most rigorously enforced? Number five, which party is stronger? Six, which faction is more highly trained? And number seven, which factions practice greater consistency in both reward and punishment?"

Once more, Eomma nodded her head. However, this time she gathered her sword and rose to her feet. She beckoned me to do the same. To which, we met on the grass-laden battlefield behind our house. My legs quivered in a combination of excitement and nervousness. My mother, my teacher, at that very moment became my greatest adversary. I knew there was no way to beat her, and the stakes were higher as the light reflected off the steel of our swords and the sweat perspiring on our foreheads glistened in the day.

To calm me, Eomma recited.

"Victories are won by inches. Those inches are wrapped in our thoughts, our language, and our actions. You must overcome the voices of doubt and fear from within."

With her words to support me, Eomma and I bowed to each other. I held the blade in my steady hands in front of me, and Eomma did the same. This part of the lesson carved itself into my mind. Everything fell still. The only sounds were the insects chittering in the trees and the warm zephyrs weaving through the leaves. Eomma far surpassed me in every assessment of the seven considerations. In other words, if I fell prey to my fear and took the defensive stance, I would lose. I had one chance to wound her, and that window of opportunity lay in the fleeting moments before the first strike.

In the flutter of a butterfly's wings, I struck my mother. The blade grazed her skin through the layers of leather protecting her obliques. Her sword deflected my attack to the side of her body, but it wasn't enough to divert the full force of my momentum. Eomma grabbed her side as she yelped out in pain.

An entirely new layer of fear filled my child mind and blanketed my resolve for battle. I dropped my sword and began professing apologies to my mother. My small hands trembled under the weight of guilt as I gawked at the crimson stain on her clothes.

However, my guilt soon turned to terror as my mother's blade pressed to the side of my neck. Its sharp edge lacerated the skin as blood seeped down to my clavicle. I still have a thin scar to remember the lesson I learned that day.

"Just because you think you bested your opponent, you're dead, because you didn't. Ask yourself why you are doing what you are doing. Why is it that you want what you want? Because how you start is how you will finish. You were alone in the beginning, and you will be alone in the end, so you must know your 'why'."

Her last words harrow me to this day.

"It is your roadmap to life, and without it, you will be lost."