MD61: Alexander Stark vs. Hiraku Susumu

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The scene is a small room, lit by a single window. It appears to be around mid-day outside. A small bonsai tree sits near the window, appearing to have been recently cut. There is a desk on the opposite side of the room. There is an open book on the desk, with ink and quill next to it. Hiraku Susumu is idly pacing about the room, talking to himself.

"What is the nature of sin?"

"Sin is any action taken, or feeling experienced, before achieving enlightenment."

He stops his pacing, and looks at the desk. He smiles, as if the muse has taken him. He sits at the desk, takes up the quill, and dips it in ink, beginning to write as he speaks.

"If a man is unenlightened, he cannot consider the proper way of things. Therefore, even if he takes the same action as an enlightened man, it cannot be said that his action is right, for he cannot have considered what is truly right. And so he has sinned."

He speaks slowly and surely as he carefully forms the kanji in his book, writing his words.

"This leads to the unfortunate conclusion, of course, that every action, feeling, and thought of the unenlightened man is a sin. Indeed, even if his actions and thoughts are bent toward achieving enlightenment, he is a sinner. For to desire enlightenment is anathema to the principles of the enlightenment. No man comes to enlightenment alone; he must be brought to it by another."

He finishes writing these thoughts. He sighs, briefly.

"So it was for me, and so it must be for all to come."

He reads over his words for a moment, and nods. He takes a pinch of sand from a jar near the ink, and sprinkles it over the pages. He stands again from his chair.

"I have been writing this book for ten years. There are many volumes. I add to it every day, when I am struck with new insight. I write my wisdom down, in book after book, putting the volumes away when I reach the end, and starting fresh ones anew. One day it will be the basis for my teaching, when I am gone from this mortal coil. I must leave the wisdom, for new generations."

He walks over to the window, touching the leaves of the bonsai tree briefly and smiling.


"Today I write of sin, and I muse on sin as I consider my first opponent in America."

He takes a folder off a table in the corner of the room. Inside is a short dossier on Alexander Stark, provided with the match contract.

"Stark, Alexander. Height above average. Muscular build. English. Self proclaimed genius. Attended Oxford University. Willful, passionate. Lives off wealth made early in life, pursues wrestling as a childish fancy."

His lip curls and he shuts the folder.

"This man has poor qualities in abundance. He is lazy, childish, arrogant. He is everything I expected to see in America, but to be confronted with it disgusts me."

He taps his fingers idly on the table.

"These qualities must be distinguished from sin, of course. All men are sinners. Some men, still, have greater faults than others. The faults are great in this one."

He continues tapping, tapping.

"I consider his arrogance his greatest fault. At the very least, I might hope a wretched man would recognize his wretchedness. But this one thinks he is mighty, wise, and great. His arrogance offends me."

He stops tapping, rubbing his chin as if struck by a thought.

"Once, I was called arrogant. But they did not understand. What appears to be arrogance on my part is only wisdom. The enlightened must by nature appear to be arrogant by the unenlightened. Once you know everything, how can you pretend to be humble in the face of others foolishness?"

He resumes his tapping.

"This is true arrogance, a great fault in the ways of men. In particular, the greatest fault in Alexander Stark. I learned, long ago, that the first step to enlightenment is to erase faults. When the faults are gone, an outward facade of enlightenment appears. This is a pale ghost of true wisdom, but it is a beginning. First, then, to destroy the fault. Then to destroy the sin. This is the way to enlightenment, and it can only be achieved through suffering."

His smile grows wider.

"When we realize our conceits, we overcome them. The only true way to realize them is to have them torn down violently in front of us. So I will make Stark suffer for his arrogance, and he will perhaps learn that his arrogance is a deadly fault. He will come to me in confidence, no doubt, that he will defeat me. His education and intellect, he thinks, will overcome my simple philosophy. And I will show him otherwise. I will cause him to suffer, I will tear at his limbs, I will stretch his tendons, I will make him weep to suffer such pain. When he suffers the greatest humiliation, he will submit. In submitting the fault of his arrogance will be realized. The only way to take his mind to such a state is to torture him, of course."

He stops tapping, folds his hands. Smiles wider.

"It is only after our complete destruction that we can be resurrected. Be ready, Stark. Your lesson will not be a pleasant one, but it will be the beginning of beauty. You will take the first path on the road to enlightenment."

He looks out the window, at the shining sun.


"This is my gift. Take it and be glad of it. I will drag you out of the darkness, and force you into the sun. Like the writhing creature of the deep, you will suffer. But one day, your eyes will open, and you will behold the light. On this day, you will be as I am."

He sighs contentedly.

"On that day, you will join me in the paradise of an enlightened mind, whole, and full of wisdom. Prepare yourself."
 
Alexander Stark stands, surveying the field where battle will commence awaiting the arrival of his foe. She was late, naturally. He supposed he should have expected that but punctuality is to be expected out of anybody who can tell time. He sees a camera crew in the distance led by Rebecca Serra. They appear to be in a hurry, at least.

“Sorry we’re late Alexander, we got held up in traffic.” She said apologetically.

“Then you should have left earlier.” He retorted coldly. “But I see no reason to dwell on your poor time management.” He points to an oversized chess board. “Do you know how to play?”

“Yes I do but...”

“Good.” Stark cuts her off, uninterested in what excuses she has to justify her lack of skill. “You can be white. You’ll need all of the advantages you can get.”

She walks over to one of her pawns and moves it two spaces forwards “Why did you request to be interviewed here?”

“Because, Miss Serra I have better things to do than be interviewed by uneducated simpletons.” He replies while moving his knight.

“Hey, I went to college!” Becky retorts. “And not wasting your precious time isn’t an answer, seeing as we’re standing in a park playing a game” she adds with a hint of venom.

“Evidently American Universities have lower admission requirements than Oxford. And if you think chess is merely a game then I have been severely overestimating your intelligence.” He pauses for a moment, surveying the board. “Chess is as integral to my training as going to the gym.”

“Really? Because everyone else I’ve interviewed would disagree with you.”

“Then my muscle bound colleagues are every bit as foolish as they look. Chess is to the mind what exercise is to the body and far more useful than being able to lift one’s own bodyweight over their empty heads.” He stops briefly and moves a rook into the firing line of Serra’s bishop. “As for why we are playing a game on a chessboard large enough to walk on, in a public park as opposed to playing a normal board somewhere else is so that I can play chess in a new environment. I dare say this is not the first time you’ve been used for practice.”

She frowns and an instant later he smiles. She took the bait hook line and sinker. “OK, so how does chess help you as a wrestler? I mean surely being stronger or faster would help you more.”

“Check.” Stark’s queen is standing where Serra’s bishop had a moment before. “It’s useful because on a mental level, a wrestling match is little more than a physical chess match. Both men fighting for control, and using their skill to counter the opponent’s offence and exploiting the holes left in his defence.”

She moves her queen between the King and danger. “So, do you think you’ll be able to outmanoeuvre and beat your opponent, Hiraku Susumu?”

The black queen retreats. “Like I’m doing to you now? No. He is both more experienced than I and almost as intelligent. He will be able to recognise holes I will miss and exploit them in ways I cannot. I do however have two advantages.” He watches Serra press forward with her Queen now that she’s out of immediate danger of losing. “I know his weaknesses better than he knows mine and I know that I will remain calm and focused and he will not.”

“How do you know that? You got annoyed at me just for being five minutes late. When you’re wrestling, losing your temper seems pretty hard to avoid.”

“Because, Miss Serra I am angered by things that do not act as I expect them to. For example I expect interviewers to be punctual to their own interviews. I also expect to be outwrestled by Hiraku Sasumu and if I am not, then I hardly have reason to be annoyed.”

“So you don’t expect to win?”

“I did not say that.” He sees she’s about to interrupt with something stupid so he cuts he elaborates before she can. “I also expect Hiraku to lose his temper, and an angry wrestler is prone to make mistakes I can punish him for. Hiraku expects to be treated as he sees himself. As an enlightened man who is superior to those lucky enough to share his oxygen. I do not see Hiraku-chan like that and nor will I treat him as such.”

“Ok sure, you might stay calm while he loses his temper, but you did admit that Hiraku can outwrestle you, and he’s very good at submission wrestling.” She finishes with a groan as she realises Stark has been able to get a pawn dangerously close to her end of the board.

“Hiraku is indeed talented at making his opponents suffer, but I’ve researched his career up until now and he has never injured an opponent. Knowing that, the pain he will doubtless inflict becomes irrelevant. I will not tap.” The pawn is now one space away from completing its journey

“How can you be so sure” The white king wisely moves forwards, away from the soon to be crowned queen and into the jaws of Stark's carefully layed trap.

“Because the sensation of pain is merely a chemical signal intended to warn the brain that damage to the affected body part is likely to occur unless action is taken. Whether that action is withdrawing one’s hand from a hot metal object, or submitting to Hiraku Susumu. I know there is no danger of injury, thus there is no need to submit.” The pawn Serra was afraid of stands at ease as instead his reigning queen places her in check, her own too far out of position to intervene. “Hiraku may believe himself Buddha but he is not. He is a better man than most, but not me. His intelligence, blighted by a messiah complex is no match for mine and it will cost him. As certain as your defeat was from the first move, so too is Hiraku Susumu’s.” Realising that her only option is defeat, Serra’s king topples. “I will not lose to a lesser man such as Hiraku. The best man always wins in this world and that can only be me.”

With the game over Stark turns and departs. His time is better spent elsewhere.
 
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