Zirous Aims

When Zirous and Zia were small, Sensei found them. Where did you find us? “The world left you where I would trip over you. So clearly the world has a plan.” He taught them how to fall first, then how to stand. When do we learn to hit? When you no longer want to.

Three months ago he was in town buying rice flour when someone pointed at the smoke: isn’t that your place, Zirous? He ran up the stone stair and found the dojo burning. Where were you when it started, son? …I was not there.

After the funeral, one month later, the police brought the report: electrical fault, accidental, case closed. He read it all night. It’s wrong. All of it. Sensei left no will and no money, only one letter: you are special, Zirous, more than I was permitted to tell you. Keep what your mother left you close. When the man who walks between comes, trust him. Sensei never said one word about his mother.

Seven years ago, in the rain, a beam cracked over the dojo porch and he caught it with one hand. This boy has inhuman strength, Sensei said, and told him to put it down. Gently. They wouldn’t speak of it in town. Why can I do that? …Drink your tea.

Every night since, he has worked at a wall of photos and notes. No wiring in Sensei’s rooms. A fire in the middle of the room with nothing to burn. Kuro didn’t bark. A suspicion is not a reason, Sensei would say. Then I’ll find a reason.

On Wednesday night he lifted a beam it took six men to move, and found a clawed hand burned into the floor beneath it. His pendant turned warm and glowed. What am I? He took a photo. Proof. This was no animal.