Keitaro sat himself onto the zafu cushion, a soft meditation mat that Panditji had gifted him a few weeks back. He closed his eyes, the familiar weight of eyelids welcoming the darkness that would soon come.
He could handle this as he had spent days reading ancient text and now it was time he put them to good use.
With a deep breath, he focused on the rhythm of his own inhalations and exhalations, letting go of the day's thoughts, worries, and anxieties.
He wasn't really aiming for complete emptiness as that wasnt something that suited him per say but he was looking for something more similar to a state of heightened awareness. He imagined his senses expanding, like ripples on a tranquil pond, reaching out to encompass everything around him.
He felt the coolness of the stone floor beneath him, the gentle tickle of the breeze against his skin, the faint scent of incense lingering in the air.
One image was in his mind throughout this whole process, Satoru six eyes, with his knowledge on knowing how they work he could envision how someone with such eyes could see the world and thus he knew it was possible to achieve such a state.
The lines between his body and the environment become to blur overtime. He wasn't just sensing the world; he was becoming a part of it. The chirping of the temple birds became a melody within him, the rustling of leaves a symphony in his ears. The very fabric of the universe, the energy that flowed through all things, resonated within his being.
Though something felt as if it was missing....
After what felt like an eternity to him but at the same no time at all, Keitaro slowly started opened his eyes. His pupils, dilated and focused, resembled that of a frog's, his pupil reflected a kaleidoscope of colors – the vibrant hues of the prayer flags fluttering in the wind, the deep blue of the afternoon sky, the golden sunlight dappling the temple floor. A strange sensation flickered across his left eyelid – a faint orange glow that seemed to pulse with an otherworldly energy.
He blinked once then twice, he was unsure if this was a trick of the light, but the feeling went on. Standing up, a strange sensation washed over his body. The world seemed impossibly sharp, yet strangely distant. He could see minute details – the veins in the leaves, the intricate patterns on the temple walls – but everything felt muted, slightly out of focus.
They felt off, this wasn't something that he was used to.
It was as if he was seeing the world through a filter, a veil that separated him from the raw physical reality. Yet, at the same time, he felt a deep sense of connection, a deep understanding of the energy that flowed through all things.
As he began to walk, his steps felt light, almost holy. turning a corner, his eyes landed on a familiar figure kneeling amidst the vibrant deities depicted on the temple wall.
It was the girl, Anjali. Her hands were clasped in prayer, a look of pure gratitude etched on her face. Her words, though faint, reached Keitaro's ears. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. "Thank you for bringing life back to our lake."
Keitaro stood frozen, an inexplicable warmth spreading through his chest. He knew, with absolute certainty, that it was her – the girl who had witnessed him cleansing the Yamuna River. A ghost of a smile touched his lips as he watched her, the strange orange glow flickering again on his eyelid.
Keitaro's gaze followed the line of Anjali's devotion, landing on the ornately carved statue she was praying to. Recognition flickered across his face. It was Varuna, the imposing deity with a crown of seaweed and a net overflowing with fish. Keitaro's memory, jogged by Panditji's teachings, served him well. Varuna was the Lord of the Waters, he wasn't just associated with the vast oceans, but also with all celestial waters like the rains, the rivers, and yes, even the lakes.
A small smile tugged at the corner of Keitaro's lips. In her innocent gratitude, Anjali had attributed the lake's cleansing to Varuna's benevolence. It wasn't entirely wrong, Keitaro thought. Perhaps, in a way, he was an instrument of the divine will, a conduit for Varuna's restorative power. But the thought of being a divinely chosen one quickly vanished. He was no god, he was no honored one.
He was only just a man, he was Keitaro a jujutsu sorcerer and nothing more, he was made of flesh and bones.
The warmth that spread through his body wasn't a divine spark, but something that was far more profound – the quiet satisfaction of helping someone in need. Witnessing Anjali's heartfelt prayer, the joy on her face as she looked at the revitalized lake, filled him with a sense of accomplishment he hadn't experienced before. It was a simple act of kindness, yet its impact was undeniable.
A gentle breeze rustled through the temple grounds, carrying with it the faint scent of incense and the distant trill of a temple bird. Keitaro turned away from Anjali, a content smile gracing his lips. This simple act of healing, the ripple effect of kindness, that was enough.
As he melted back into the shadows, a flicker of yellow hair momentarily caught the afternoon sun. Anjali having finished her prayer, felt an inexplicable tug towards the direction Keitaro had vanished. It was as if a presence lingered, a faint echo of the otherworldly glow she'd glimpsed that night by the Yamuna River.
She pushed her eyes to their limits trying to search for any sign of the mysterious figure. But all she saw was the empty path, bathed in the golden light of the sun. A strange sense of relief washed over her body. Perhaps she wouldn't see the mystherious healer again. Perhaps that was for the best. But deep down, a flicker of hope remained. Maybe, just maybe, someday their paths would cross once more.
A/N for anyone wondering what he looked like in that state.
(without the headband though)