Aubry sat in the garden dome, near an artificial waterfall, meditating. Meditation was something that had become a part of his life in the past few years. Often the journey took him into pain. Occasionally, into bliss. But however difficult the path became, he was committed to the journey.
The dome overhead reflected light, seemed to contain it, and the soft sounds of water flowing made it a special place for him, a place so very unlike the city streets that had birthed him.
He heard Kim coming. He knew it was Kim. The footsteps were those of a man in complete control of his body. Almost flat-footed. The whisper of a step, sliding from ball of foot back to heel, always in perfect balance. No meaty athleticism here. No macho posturing. Kim’s excellence was less a strength of muscle than a perfect alignment of bone and sinew. Aubry understood this, deeply.
Along a crushed-stone path leading past the waterfall appeared Kim. The slender Korean wore a white gi with a tattered black belt. He walked along the narrow path as if he had all the time in the world.
The man was thin. He moved so fluidly he seemed to have no bones. His eyes were as bright as coals. He might have been thirty or sixty. The nails of his hands were yellowish, and looked thick. He wore sandals, with thick cotton socks. Aubry knew he faced a master whose art was complete.
Kim stood before him. “You were expected at the gymnasium an hour ago.” His voice was strained.
“It’s peaceful here, isn’t it?” Aubry said. Was this the man who hated him so much? Why? What had he done?
“Why didn’t you come?” He paused, and Aubry could feel that the man was out of balance, and that this lack of equilibrium was far from Kim’s normal state. “You are …” Kim searched for the proper words. “Disrespectful.”
Aubry watched the water, and from somewhere deep inside him, he seemed to hear another man’s words. Warrick? Perhaps. But had he had to stop crediting a dead man with all that was good in his mind.
He spoke carefully. “Everyone has worked carefully to bring us together. They say that you hate Nullboxing.”
“It is whorish,” Kim said, with a flash of anger. “And you have the same contempt for my art. We need not waste time on pleasantries. The only possible reply to your statements is action. Why do you sit? Has fear so paralyzed you?”
Aubry reached out and plucked a flower from its stem. Its pink and blue petals lay neatly against his palm. “Do you see?”
Kim’s posture didn’t relax, but his eyes narrowed. “See what?”
“Either of us can do this,” Aubry said. His hand closed on the bud, and when it opened, it was a smear of red and white. “Either of us can end life. I can’t give it back. I …” He shook his head. “I can’t mend the bones I break. Can’t give sight back to the eyes I’ve taken. I can’t make men breathe again. Can you?”
Kim looked at him suspiciously. Proudly, he said, “In hwa rang do, acupuncture and a form of chiropractory are requisites for advancement. Why?”
Aubry smiled sadly. “I envy you.”
“You … envy me?” For the first time, Kim’s energy seemed to shift. Rather than the focused blowtorch, it was more diffuse now, almost like a halo around the man. He kept his distance—Aubry would have to take steps to reach him—but sat on a bench across from him, watching and evaluating. “This is … not the kind of comment I expected from you. Tell me. What did people say to you, about me?”
“They said that you wanted to hurt me. That you were my enemy.”
Kim nodded slowly. “I heard the same of you.” He cupped a flower in his hands, smelled it without plucking it or damaging it. “Did you scent, before you destroyed?”
Aubry blinked, and again, there was that strange, sad smile. When he spoke, it was a whisper. “I never have,” he said. He looked at the crumpled petals in his hands.
There was a pause, and into that pause came the sound of water flowing, and a distant insect sound, a soft chirping from the far side of the garden. “Come,” Kim said finally. “This flower is sweet. Give yourself the gift.”
Aubry hesitated, and then rose. He took a step forward. And then another. And sat. Now each man was within the other’s kill zone. No physical response could stop an attack at such range. Only an intuitive warning, or a preemptive attack, could possibly suffice. Kim’s eyes were dark and cool. Aubry bent, closed his eyes, and smelled the flower.
Then he sniffed the crushed, dead thing in his own hand. Its petals had released their fragrance fully, but the live flower’s essence was greater still.
“Which do you prefer?” Kim asked unnecessarily.
Together, they listened to the garden.
Then Kim spoke. “If you had come to my class, in front of my students …” A rueful smile creased his mouth.
“The meekest woman becomes a tiger when protecting her cubs,” Aubry said. A sudden warm smile split his face. “A friend of mine named Jenna told me that.”
“When two tigers fight,” Kim said, “one dies, and the other is crippled.”
“Even if I won, I would lose.” Aubry’s big shoulders hunched forward. “Someone knew that.”
“I do not know why you are here,” Kim said. “Some say that you are being prepared for an assignment. Think, please.” He laid his hand on Aubry’s. Kim’s flesh felt like parchment. “Think of the manner in which we were pushed toward each other. Someone wanted to see it. It was a test.” Aubry looked up, and Kim peered directly into his eyes, as if measuring. “I think that someone read some old evaluations of you, and thought you an animal. Perhaps once you were. Now you are a man. I am not certain that even you completely understand this.”
“You can heal as well as kill,” Aubry whispered, close to awestruck. “You are complete.”
Kim stared. “There is more than one way to heal, Aubry Knight. I can heal bodies. Perhaps you will heal something greater.” He withdrew his hand, leaving behind a sensation of warmth.
Aubry stood, gazing at the garden around him, as if astonished and delighted to find it still there. “I think … I will walk in the garden awhile, Master Kim. I would like to smell the flowers.”
Kim stood. And they bowed simultaneously, sincerely, two tigers who had offered, and received from each other, the gift of life.