The target exited the shopping zone and turned onto Teramachi Street. Her pace slightly slower, the woman sipped her cappuccino and regarded the pedestrians about her. Most were headed someplace; others looked into the high-end clothing, book, and related shops here. 

She scanned the vehicle traffic: cars, trucks, and bikes of all varieties competed for space. Her gait did not change, but the woman’s senses remained alert, watching, listening, feeling; the scents of the city were more than familiar to her, and she quested for any out of the ordinary. 

Those two girls were watching her, she knew, and probably got her picture. That didn’t matter; she was used to people’s eyes being on her; no use trying to stop the typical fangirl. 

Two blocks down, she turned onto the wide cement walkway that led to the doors of one of the city’s major hotels. She entered through the revolving door and walked through the tiled lobby past the marble-topped reception desk and the fountain in the center of the room, to the rank of six elevators. 

At the top floor, the doors opened to a hallway with a burgundy carpet. She looked each way—no one in the well-lit corridor. There were fewer doors on this floor; she walked down one wing to the last, letting herself in with a key card. 

A lone light shone off the neutral walls in the foyer. The woman stepped in, removed her shades, and set them on a stand next to an ornate lamp. She cast her jacket onto a velvet-cushioned chair by the door. Sitting, she unzipped and removed her thigh-high boots and tossed them aside. Running her hands through her hair, she then rose and looked into the first room, the bathroom. 

Everything was in order, the mirror, tiled walls, and fixtures immaculately scrubbed and shined by housekeeping. The sink, tub, and toilet were spotless, and the hotel’s exclusive, thick white towels rested in their places, as did the plush robe of the same color. Satisfied, she switched this light off. 

The main room was in darkness, the full-length windows by the bed covered with heavy blinds. Even with just the foyer light, she could see a corner of the king-size bed cover turned down and made ready for her. To her right, the glass-topped coffee table, couch, and overstuffed chairs waited. The wall cabinet that held the television was closed. The closet by the bed had a number of outfits hanging in it; there were personal items on the nightstand, and a small Bose radio player sat on one of the dual night tables. 

She pressed the remote control to allow just enough sunlight to filter through the blinds. Sitting, the woman picked up one stack of notebooks lying there and leaned back, her feet on the table. Sipping her drink, she read over some of the written lines and went through them in her head. 

After a short while, she put the book aside and went to the bed. On the way, she stripped off her sweater to reveal a black lace brassiere of high quality. She took down her jeans; a matching black thong remained as she tossed the pants on the bed. As she slid her black socks down her legs and to the floor, she seated herself beside them and placed a purple zafu under her buttocks. Assuming the lotus position, she faced the windows and the thin strips of light that peeked through. She took a series of slow, deep breaths, and began to whisper a chant, “Om mani padme hum, Om mani padme hum . . .” 

Behind her eyes, the darkness gave way to black, white, blue, then purple, which swirled and changed direction in a slow, hypnotic motion. 

She saw whorls of light take definite shape, unseen in years past but now revealed. Line and form became a square, then a cube; then more cubes, one, two, four, then eight. These conjoined and chased one another in an infinite loop. 

Breaths became deeper, the driving organ pounded, the pulse raced; the woman’s closed eyes sought light within the space . . . then, she heard it, that voice, calling to her . . . 

Aki’s eyes opened to black. Her breaths short, a hand went to her chest. Heat in the form of sweat escaped her body and beaded on her frame. She looked at the clock on the nightstand; she’d been in meditation for nearly five hours. 

Unsteadily, Aki got to her feet and stretched. Her hands again went through her long, thick mane, then down her body. The curves of her shoulders passed through her fingers, over her breasts, and down her torso; ribs protruded not by sight but by evidence of touch; down her hips and to her thighs. She then went to the window where her fingers parted the blinds. 

Aki blinked. The city’s heart beat as she looked out upon it. The lights were on in buildings all across Kyoto, but to Aki it meant nothing. 

She stared out into the night in silence.