Body, Mind and Soul

[Dawnika Snow]

Understanding one’s body and soul is a journey met with many trails, both arduous and rewarding. A task that requires discipline and motivation. For many who try, they give up on becoming more than they are. Those who do survive the training, they are awarded enlightenment: A true understanding of themselves and the universe around them. One person in particular trains this discipline within the Vasty Deeps on a secluded island. The small island can be found a good dozen kilometers east of Cinnabar Island. There, monks train in a monastery high in the mountain face; they are students in the art of the soul. The head of this island is their master: Lucario, expert of the soul and aura.

Lucario has lived most of his life on the island; he left Cinnabar as a Riolu at a young age. Prime for his age, his mind is attuned to his body and soul. With the responsibility of running the operation of the monastery, he is often occupied with menial labor, but nothing extremely tedious. In his free time, Lucario meditates atop the mountain and trains his body vigorously. Today he stands on the summit of the earthen spire, sitting with his feet crossed in the snow.

Cold winds blow past his face, racing across his skin. It bothers him not, though, for he has spent many days in the cold weather of the peak. The extreme conditions were only part of his previous training years ago. He sits still with his eyes shut, concentrating on the world around him. The energetic breeze, the cold, damp air, and the dense atmosphere were all he ruminated on, crimson scarf flapping along in the wind.

His calming meditation is interrupted abruptly by one of the monks from the monastery. The man comes over the snowy ridge with his arms waving frantically to get his adroit teacher’s attention. The moderately aged man seems fraught with concern. When he is finally within earshot of the Pokemon, he yells out to him.

“Master! There’s a problem at the monastery!” He screams over heavy breathing. The Lucario doesn’t budge an inch from his meditative position; he doesn’t even open his eyes.

’Can this not wait for me to finish my meditation?’ The Pokemon’s voice echoed in the monk’s mind. Lucario was not mute, but he preferred to speak through his telepathy. By now, his pupil had reached the spot in which he sat.

“No sir, this is extremely urgent!” The overwrought man continued, “The monastery is being attacked!”

This statement got Lucario’s attention rather quickly, his eyes shot open and he jumped to his feet. Without another word, the fighter-type bolted towards his home, readying himself for a brawl. When he arrived at the cliff-face where his monastery stood, the Pokemon saw the invaders: Water-types and Fighting-types known as Poliwhirls and Machops. Not a surprise, as they dotted the island as a forceful tribe of marauders. Even so, they threaten Lucario’s home, and that was unacceptable.

With a quick jolt of force, the aura master rushed into battle. He jammed his palm into a Poliwhirl’s side, sending it flying in front of him, kicking up cold dirt and grass as it’s body rolled across the earth. That got most of the monsters’ attentions rather quickly. The half dozen opponent’s circled the expert fighter-type, ready to attack. Just as one of the Machops jumped in for him, Lucario split into two figures, one a copy of himself. The unlucky Machop punched the phaseable copy and got a swift kick to the back of his head, knocking him out instantly.

The others were upon him just as fast. Two Poliwhirls shot water through the puzzling symbol blazen across their stomachs. With the reflexes of an agile feline, he dropped to the floor on all fours until the water passed him. Once he was safe, he used his hands to push himself forward along with his feet. Holding his arms out on each side, he plows his fists into each of them. Both of the water-types hit the ground hard. It was likely they wouldn’t stand back up.

A sharp pain jolted up his spine as a Machop planted its foot into his lower back. He cringed momentarily, then jumped forward to acquire some distance. His enemy was more determined having landed a hit, but Lucario has seen many battles, and this was nothing. He took a defensive position and his body shined like metal. Crossing his arms in front of his chest, he readied for the strike. The Machop ran his fist into master’s block; it was ineffective. Lucario’s iron skin protected him from tough hits but slowed him slightly. His hand snapped to the small, gray Pokemon’s wrist. A tough tug forced the Machop forward, introducing Lucario’s foot to its face.

The last Machop stood meekly away from his opponent, too scared to act. His only option was to turn tail and book it. With that final moment of battle, the master took ease in his stance and breathed deeply. Although, it wasn’t done yet. Over the hill came a towering figure, shadowed from the light of the sun behind him. The masculine silhouette was unmistakable to Lucario though. The reddish aura he could see in its soul was practically nostalgic.

“Machoke.” He spoke out to the overly buff, man-like Pokemon. His rival replied in kind.

“Ah, Lucario.” He said in his heavily deep voice while crossing his arms over his chest. “I believe you know why we’re here.”

“And I believe I’ve already told you my answer, now leave. I wish not to fight you if it were possible.” The blue brawler barked back. He was in no mood to play games; they had not only interrupted his daily meditation but assaulted his home all in a single sweep. Such atrocities were unforgivable to him.

“You know very well this island is our home! You have insulted our history by calling our sacred land home and building your worthless monastery!” The Machoke yelled out in anger throwing his hand forward and pointing at his opponent. “Prepare to be evicted.”