shinmono

Slowly, and with no shortage of effort, he began to pry off his clone, separating centimeter by centimeter. Sitting on the floor, he resembled an animal shedding its skin. Eventually, he and his clone split like dividing cells, but the seal was trying to pull them back together. Moving his clone forward felt like trying to swim upriver, and it was taking everything he had not to be pushed back, let alone advance further. However, he felt himself closing in on something, a sensation, or perhaps it could be called a state of mind. Whatever it was, it seemed to help him project his mana. If he could make this state of awareness easier to access, then his magic would surely grow much more powerful.

He couldn’t maintain this state for long, and eventually snapped out of it, gasping for air as if he had lost a lung. He had to be careful with this training method, as there was no telling what health dangers it posed. He resumed meditating, slowly replenishing his mana reserves. Once they had reached a decent level, an idea occurred to him. He summoned his clone, feeling it overlap his presence with a copy, but now, he was unable to separate from it. The headband was trapping his mana within his body, making him feel wrapped in a thick layer of insulation.

Mrs. B. was a great teacher for 10th grade English. Funny, engaging, personable—and a bit flirty. She was in her late-20s, just a couple years out of The University of Michigan, cute, nice body and flaming red hair that cascaded over her shoulders and down her back. She knew the boys all lusted after her and she did nothing to discourage our interest. Students even gave her a nickname, “Bubbles.” The administration was not pleased, but Mrs. B. didn’t seem to mind. She liked the attention. Oh, and I think that we actually learned a lot of English Lit between the horsing around.