It was the day that changed it all. My sweaty hands gripped the door as I entered the dojo. I couldn't shake my trepidation.
What is Jiuot-Sebre Warrior Arts? I wondered when I moved to Douglas, Wyoming, four months ago. The red and black painted words gave the place a mysterious lure. I googled it, but nothing turned up on Jiuot-Sebre. Yet every time I drove past the old building, a force from inside the walls beckoned me to enter.
Out of unsatisfied curiosity, I entered the small, rented space where a line of striking masks hung on the wall. The colors had faded from the once brilliant masks, making them look ancient. A tingling buzzed at the top of my head, almost as if my brain wanted me to leave. I studied the masks with their fierce faces, yet I kept looking away from my angst. They appeared alive as the empty sockets tracked my movement. I held my hand on the door. A green one with orange stripes scared me the most, almost looking like it wanted to fly off the wall and kill me. I stood in the doorway, unable to move, gripped by the energy that emanated from the masks.
"Close the door," a raspy voice commanded. I jumped and tightly squeezed the gloves I held. I could see no one in the empty dojo, only the masks. Did the masks tell me to close the door? The frigid wind rushed in behind me.
Do I stay and get vexed by the masks or return to the -25-degree cold? At least the dojo had heat. I wanted warmth and clutched myself as I pulled the door closed.
I wrapped my coat tighter around me as I slowly walked in.
"Hello," I said, hoping the masks wouldn't answer.
From behind a tapestry, an aging man walked out. His rich brown skin sagged on his wrinkled face. His wispy hair, a mix of brown and silver, sat on top of his head in a braided bun.
"I Shingsuet. Are you ready to train?"
"Um, well, I think I was just coming into, um, coming in to see what Jiuot-Sebre is."
Shingsuet strolled toward me with grace, gliding more than walking. I had expected to see him shuffle since he seemed as old as the masks.
Shingsuet grasped my hands in his leathered hands, and his heat felt good on my frozen fingers.
"I knew, young man, you come," he said. I shudder.
"I am sorry. I think this might be a mistake." I wanted to turn around—unease built inside.
"Oh, no mistake. You come to train as warrior."
A warrior? Who would I be fighting in Douglas, Wyoming?
Did I want to train as a warrior? I had entered the building from curiosity, not interest. I had passed the door with the words Jiuot-Sebre Warrior Arts every day on the way to my mining job. The small town of Douglas offered few activities. I had little to occupy my mind with when I wasn't at work, compounding my loneliness.
I hated Douglas, Wyoming. I lived in California until I was twenty-two, adoring the big city with never-ending excitement. I would have stayed in California but couldn't afford to live as a grocery store bagger. When I heard about the high-paying above-ground mining, I moved to Wyoming to give it a shot.
When I looked at Shingsuet, who appeared more as he belonged in a nursing home than running warrior training, I felt I had made a mistake walking in.
Shingsuet let go of me, and my hands immediately missed his warmth. He took his fingers and unzipped my puffy coat.
"Uh, what are you doing?"
"Come, take off coat. It is time to train."
I almost protested but then heard the howling wind outside. With nothing to do and nowhere to go, I let Shingsuet remove my coat.
"I like your dojo. I like your masks," I said, attempting to make conversation.
"Those masks watch over my students. One day, you will find your mask."
"Hm, okay." I didn't know how to reply.
I pointed to the wall. "I like the teal and black one."
"No!" he snarled, his brownish teeth jutting out. I didn't look at him as I picked a loose skin on my frostbitten lips.
My training started that day. Shingsuet scared me with his stern discipline.
“Jiuot-Sebre is ancient art. Very few people train it today," He said during my third month as his student. We didn't chit-chat much while training.
"Where does it come from?"
"It comes from Jiuot tribe in the Amazon rainforest." He had an accent I couldn't pinpoint.
"I have never heard of them."
"Does that make them not exist?"
"No, I wasn't accusing you of lying."
"Did I accuse you of accusing me?" Shingsuet's edgy comments made me question and stumble over my words. I fretted talking to him since I could never say anything right without him correcting or challenging me.
The first three months strained every muscle in my body. I always wanted to skip class but eventually dragged myself there, inwardly promising it would be the last class.
Jiuot-Sebre had components of martial arts, with strikes and kicks. It also incorporated weapons and dance-like movements along with ninja stealth.
"Do you have any other students?" I had asked.
"Does a master need more than one warrior?"
I never saw anyone else train there. Perhaps I kept going since I felt bad for the old man. Yet, old man did not describe him with his strength and vitality, something I lacked. He never tired, moving faster than anyone else I knew.
By the time I finished my first year of Jiuot-Sebre training, the art had me hooked.
"Jiuots ruled Amazon rainforest thousands years ago," Shingsuet told me one day as we ate a soup he had made. I didn't recognize the various roots and the protein in the soup. It had a bitter yet tangy flavor. At least I didn't have to make dinner that night. "They were most fierce warriors on planet. If they had been conquers, they could have taken over world, but they weren't. They loved their land and kept to selves. But, whenever enemy tried to conquer them, enemy quickly died."
"So, will I ever earn a colored belt?" I had asked during my second year in training.
"No, this not karate. This warrior training. When you at master level, you will unite with your mask," he said, pointing to the fierce masks that watched me every day I trained. Even two years later, they still spooked me.
"That's cool," I said.
Shansuet's face reddened as his eyes hardened. "No, not cool. Honor."
I never said the right thing to my master.
I trained hard with Shansuet. As the years went by, I found only a few more things about Douglas that I liked but only a little. I looked forward to the State Fair every year. Sometimes, some of the people at work took me antelope hunting. But, for the most part, training Jiuot-Saber was all I did. When my tenth anniversary of living in Wyoming arrived, depression entered me.
Ten years of living in a podunk town. What had I achieved at thirty-two? I hardly had friends. The winters bothered me more and more each year. It seemed as if Douglas had two seasons. Ten months of winter and two months of spring. I had considered moving over the years but knew I couldn't make the same wage in California. And, of course, Jiuot-Sebre kept me there. The discipline didn't exist anywhere in the United States that I could find. Maybe Shansuet had made up the art.
One day when I entered the dojo, the lights went out as I took my shoes off. The darkness shrouded my eyes.
"Shansuet."
A hard stick bashed me in the side of the head as bright lights flashed behind my eyes. I fell to my knees and grasped my throbbing head.
"Shansuet, what was that?" My voice wavered on the edge of crying. Pain pounded against my skull. Before I could call Shansuet again, another blow hit me in the same spot.
"STOP!" I screamed.
"Warriors do not beg for mercy," Shansuet's raspy voice called above me.
I could sense a stick flying toward my head again. I slipped to my right, kicked my leg up, and knocked it out of Shansuet's hand.
"Shansuet, turn the lights on. I think you might have given me a concussion." Nausea hit me as my head spun.
"Warriors do not beg for light."
Shansuet's foot landed into my right kidney. I crouched and tried to hide.
Shansuet's clothing rustled. I didn't want another whack or kick or whatever he had planned. I dropped to the ground and slithered to his weapon cache. Shansuet wasn't playing around, and I needed to be ready. I grabbed a spear and waited.
Shansuet had trained me to fight in the dark, but never this intense. I think he planned to kill me, and I had to defend my life. I closed my eyes to rely on my other senses. When I felt Shansuet near, I swooped the spear across the floor and took out his feet. He should have fallen, but he jumped upward, and I couldn't find him.
A sharp knife impelled my left thigh. I held a circle blade, much like a shuriken, ready to use it if necessary.
I sensed Shansuet above me, possibly hanging in the rafters. I closed my eyes and did a quick meditation that Shansuet taught me. I gathered some circle blades and launched them where I thought Shansuet hid.
"Oof," Shansuet moaned.
"Master, I am sorry," I called out. I hope I hadn't hit anything vital.
"Warrior never sorry."
A circle blade from the dark flew into my leg. The pain buckled my knees.
I moved stealthily along the wall. Shansuet launched more circle blades at my previous spot, only to have them clang against the floor. I slowed my breathing so Shansuet couldn't trace me to my location.
I listened.
I could hear Shansuet in the middle of the mat. I took my spear and brought it down hard, hoping not to kill him but knowing he expected me to give it my all.
Clack
His spear met mine. We battled in the dark. I missed Shansuet often, but he never missed me. I did pretty well at defending his spear. I vanished to my left, as Shansuet taught, then overtook his back. With my hands gripping his tunic, I choked Shansuet. He fought and sputtered under my hands. If I kept going, he would die. I couldn't kill my master. In a panic, I released my choke hold.
"Why you stop?" He roared in anger, and his saliva hit my cheek. He swung behind me and grasped my neck, and choked me.
I fought and struggled to release his grasp upon me. He had all intentions to kill me. I had to think of a different technique before I blacked out. I pulled a dagger from my ankle strap and slammed it into Shansuet's hand. He let go of my neck. My hands became wet with his blood. I flipped to the side of Shansuet and had his back again. This time I had my blade to his throat.
"Master, I do not wish to kill you," I said.
"You must," he replied.
"This has gone too far."
"Kill me, or I kill you." He dropped to a squat as my hand pushed away. He then popped back up and had a sharp instrument against my stomach. The blade went in and stung!
"Master, stop!"
"Kill or be killed."
I kicked the blade out of his hand, then he did a flip and had my back again. As his hands choked me, I struggled to free myself. I felt funny as my head went fuzzy. I was about to die.
I took my dagger and plunged it into Shansuet. His hands released from my neck as he dropped to the floor.
"Master, I am sorry," I called. I felt around for the light. When I flipped it on, I saw Shansuet's bloody body on the floor. The dagger poked out from his heart.
"Master, I cried as I dropped next to him.
He didn't breathe.
He had no pulse.
"Oh, Master. Why did you make me kill you?"
I pulled out my phone. "Should I call the cops? They are going to arrest me for homicide."
Tears streamed down my face.
"Why did you make me kill you?"
Electricity crackled behind me as my hair stood up. I looked at the masks on the wall. Bright yellow and green sparks shot out of the mask with teal and black. The mask popped and hummed as the mouth on it turned even more cynical.
Suddenly, the mask exploded off the wall and flew toward Shansuet. I jumped out of the way and would have hidden if I could have found something to hide under. The mask latched onto Shansuet's face. His body rose and spun in the air as electricity sprayed from the mask.
All four of his limbs stretched apart, then came together. Shansuet dropped to the ground on his legs. He stood in front of me, but how? I had killed him. Maybe the electricity kept him standing. His eyes opened through the slits in the mask.
"Now you warrior," he said, somehow alive.
It took several hours for my nerves to calm down. I had just experienced too many emotions. Fear for my life. Extreme sorrow for killing my master. Horror from the magic mask. The experience left me emotionally drained. After we ate an incredible meal, with fruits and meats I couldn't discern, Shansuet took my hands in his. The only time he had done that was on my first day of class. He led me to stand below the wall of masks.
"You now Jiuot-Sebre warrior. You get mask. This honor greater than karate black belt."
"You mean I get to have a mask?" I liked the idea of having such a rare artifact, but I couldn't imagine keeping that mask in my house only to stare at me while I slept. And, after seeing Shansuet's mask take life, I didn't want one.
"Mask pick you."
I stood in front of the masks, and they all started shaking.
"Masks are two-thousand year old. Each one belonged to a Jiuot-Sebre warrior who has gone to battle."
The masks vibrated loudly as tiny sparks shot out of each one. I wanted to hide, but I needed my bravery since I was now a Jiuot-Sebre warrior. The green mask with orange warpaint exploded off the wall and crashed into my face. Heat sealed the mask to my skin. It vibrated on me. I wanted to rip it off, but this was my black belt ceremony, and I needed to take it like a warrior.
I elevated off the ground much as Shansuet had. Energy pulsated in and out of me. A huge flash of color burst out, and I dropped to the ground as everything went dark. I tried to remove the mask, but I couldn't. Shansuet must have turned the light off again. I prepared myself for his attack.
"Must we fight again?" I didn't want to fight anymore. My body had already taken a beating, and everything on me stung or throbbed.
A spear knocked against my leg. This time I would be more ready. I took my spear and slammed it against Shansuet's legs. Since Shansuet seemed immortal, I fought harder. I didn't think I could kill him if I wanted to.
Strong hands grabbed my hair and yanked it so hard that it ripped from my head. Shansuet had never fought like that before. Nails scraped against my skin. I pulled out some circle blades and sliced Shansuet's arms with them.
A sliver of light appeared in the back of the dojo, then became brighter and brighter. It seemed like hundreds of masks came at me, but these had bodies attached to them. Where did they come from, and how was there that much room in the dojo?
With my distraction, Shansuet's spear came toward my face. It would have creamed into me, but thankfully circle blades flew from the masked men and must have hit Shansuet because he dropped to the ground. As the masked men got closer, light shined on the body at my feet, and I saw that my attacker was not Shansuet. He looked like a rainforest tribe man with his chiseled body and loin covering. War paint streaked his cheeks instead of a mask. I turned back to the masked men.
They came to my side and spoke to me in a language I didn't understand. I then noticed I was not in Shansuet's dojo. We stood in a cave.
More loin-covered attackers appeared from the other side of us, and the two groups engaged in battle. I slithered under a hanging rock and watched.
Indeed, the masked warriors had superior fighting skills. Within minutes, the masked men had conquered the loin-clothed enemy.
Wow. I had just watched the actual Jiuot-Sebre warriors. The masks they wore looked bright and new.
A couple of them touched me as they ran in the direction their enemies had just come from. Since they acted friendly to me and had a light source, I followed them. Eventually, we exited the cave into the thickest jungle ever.
"The Amazon!"
I followed them into a few more battles, which they easily won. Then, we went to a village-like place. I don't know any other way to call it. They had homes constructed out of stone and rock. Women and children welcomed them with shouts, smiles, and a feast. Often, someone would talk to me, but I had no idea what they said.
As the warriors basked in their homecoming, I wandered, looking for Shansuet's teal and black mask, but I could not see it.
"Shansuet! Shansuet!" I called in desperation.
That night I slept on the hard ground next to the other warriors. They all took off their masks, but mine would not come off. As a fire burned in the middle of our sleeping mass, horrific bugs crawled on me all night. Wild calls from forest beasts echoed along the canopy. Despite my terror, I eventually fell asleep. Shansuet visited me in my dream.
"What is going on?"
"You Jiuot-Sebre warrior now."
I shook my head. "I don't want this. I need to get back to Douglas."
"You hate Douglas."
Well, I did. That was the truth. "But this isn't my life. I don't speak their language. I have no idea what is going on. I need to go home."
"You home now with Jiuot-Sebre warriors. Nothing I can do."
"Did you know this would happen?" I asked.
"It is what I train you for."
"Why didn't you warn me?" I asked.
"This is not my will. The mask picked you over ten years ago. This your fate."
And then Shansuet disappeared.
I woke up, sweat pooling under the mask.
And Shansuet was right. I couldn't change it. I lived and fought among the Jiuot-Sebre warriors, fierce and skilled. At some point, the mask eventually unfused from my face. When I removed it, I hoped it would return me to Douglas, but it didn't.
I eventually developed a working use of the language.
I had no sense of time since I didn't know how to measure the years and seasons. Most days seemed the same. But I could sense a significant amount of time had passed. I had acclimated comfortably to my life, sometimes forgetting I had come from a completely different place. Then, one day as I sharpened my spear, I heard.
"Shansuet! Shansuet! Where are you? Don't leave me here."
After not hearing it forever, it took a minute for me to understand English. A warrior I hadn't seen before wandered around in a mask. We weren't in battle, so no other Jiuots had masks on.
"American?" I asked, struggling with my English.
"Yes!" He cried out in delight. "Can you help me? "Where am I?"
My mind felt empty as I tried to remember my previous life. I sorted through my brain until I could articulate a sentence.
"This is the Amazon rainforest, and we are the Jiuots."
"How do you know English?"
"I used to live in America. Where are you from?"
The guy tried to pull off his mask but had no success. "I am from Douglas, Wyoming. Have you ever heard of it?"
My heart leaped in my chest. "Yes, I am from there. Or was. I live here now. What year is it?"
"2022."
"Wow, it's been over ten years since I left." That felt like another lifetime ago.
"Did Shansuet send you here?" he asked, still wrestling with his mask.
"Yes," I said. I hadn't heard Shansuet's name in so long.
"Let me guess," I said. "You just finished your warrior training."
"Yup," he replied. "How do I get home?"
"I am sorry, friend. You don't. This is your home now."
The man spun around, looking at the whole area.
"Really?"
"Yup."
"Do you know if this is 2,000 years ago or modern-day?" He asked.
I scratched my arm. "I don't know. I haven't ever seen anyone but tribal enemies or us. I guess it could be 2,000 years ago or even 2022."
"Whoop, whoop, whoop!" came the war cry of the enemy in the distance. Instinctively we all grabbed our masks and weapons and stood in our warrior stance.
I held the American's hand, much like Shansuet had done to me so long ago.
"Come, it is time to put that Jiuot-Sebre training to use."
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Warrior Mask
by Stephanie Daich
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