An ocean of light poured through the window frames, coloring each wolf’s face as they sat cross-legged and bare-pawed on the dojo’s mats. Boss Kusanagi indulged a slight chuckle at the sight of his students in black and blue. He had led meditations before, but this one was different. This one was something special.
There was a slight mist in the air—a dash humidity amid a dry spell—and the incense he had chosen was almost nonexistent, the scent of fresh linens drying in the wind. The middle-aged gray hadn’t deliberately orchestrated the room in this way; he chose only the colors and sensations that felt right in the moment. No plans, no designs, just on-the-fly thinking.
“Acknowledge the thoughts as they flow through you,” Boss nodded, voice reverberant. “But let them pass.”
All closed their eyes, and began their quiet mantras. When Boss began his, the descent was instant, and the results...peculiar.
Down and down he dove, swimming through the liquid thoughts and sensations. Passing him by came visions of his son Junji, his wife Kimiko, a soft purple aura framing them like a portrait on a desk. Then came shafts of red, pulsing with the clash of combat. Every sweep of the leg, every fist thrown, sharp and precise, yet flowing through effortless motion.
More and more he descended, the colors giving way to pure white light, then shuffling back into view, colliding and coalescing before falling away again. This was all to be expected. In his sessions, there was never an end, only a slow waking back to reality, the weight of worlds off his and his pupils’ shoulders.
He felt his paws hit a cold tile floor, and before him stood all his pupils. All of their various timbres of fur, various builds from musclebound to lithe. Every wolf in his midst, down at the depths of his own meditation. The thought that came next: “How could this be?”
He walked towards the visages of his students, and felt their hands upon his. The pads of their hands were warm to the touch, and soon he found himself walking with every wolf in the dojo, towards the center of this bright white light. Not the tunnel through which the End comes, but a column towering above all in its presence. It felt like the only thing to do, the only place to be, and yet they felt not like the moths who flit towards the electric lamp. They felt a warm embrace.
He turned to the tan pupil to his right, Jade, but didn’t see her. He saw the face of his old flame from years ago, Evelyn Blanc. That rowdy, speckled-brown scrapper who now fought in the distant wars for the freedom of all within the desert. To his left, the towering build of David, the black wolf built like a Renaissance sculpture. His face, too, wasn’t his own; it was the eyes and sharp mouth of his old partner-in-crime Guy Straker.
Together, the memories and underlings walked hand-in-hand with their teacher towards the monument to all that seemed good in the world. Every sunrise, every kiss, every resplendent hour of peace. Closer and closer they came until, one by one, each climbed up and into the shaft of light, and vanished from view. The last to leave was Boss himself, but before he did, he turned down to notice something on the floor of the building. He saw his silver Aviator shades, and his worn-out suede sandals. He slipped into both, and climbed through.
Only then, did all wake from their rumination. And when Boss looked upon each face among his class, all returned the same stunned expression as their master. It had been a serene vision shared.
“How very…”
Boss trailed off, the elder gray fighter searching for the right word. In the end, he settled for a simple “enlightening,” and ended his lessons for the day.