Disclaimer: All rights reserved for Christy Hui.
At only one moment in time had Kimiko thought she would be free. When Master Fung came to her father's house and asked permission to take her to his temple to train, she bowed graciously while her insides churned in excitement. The only training she had ever had was for tea ceremonies where she wore her stifling kimono and tiny geta in accordance to her mother's wishes. Kimiko's mother died when she was ten, the remnants of a well-to-do Chinese family stuck in the nineteenth century. She supposed the reason she so loved technology and anything modern was the look on her mother's face as the world passed her by, the proud and noble woman thrust from her family's traditional ways into her husband's fast paced lifestyle. A lifestyle she could not thoroughly enjoy, stuck on a futon as she demanded, unable to walk more than across the room lest she endure the pain of broken feet. When her mother's side of the family learned her father held no interest in breaking and bandaging his baby daughter's foot for the sake of tradition, they disowned baby Kimiko, leaving her to a lifetime of jealousy and spite.
She later learned that her training held no freedom at all; she just traded one lifetime of disappointment for another. From a small age she was taught poise, beauty and subtlety were a woman's only attributes so she would need to be well versed in each. She was taught to make no mistakes, to be perfect. In a grand show of defiance to a family that she never knew, yet the cause so much heartache, she accepted the invitation to become a Xiaolin Dragon. Not knowing in her naïve revolt that she would only be shackled the task of finding mystical objects when she could not even find herself.
Miyabi, parfait, perfeito, perfect. No matter how you say it, it was an ugly word. At least to the one girl raised by the standard of miyabi. Her mother, pale, round faced, dark straight as a board hair and dark almond shaped eyes, was the epitome of Japanese and Chinese beauty alike. And then there was Kimiko, her pale, flat face and bright blue eyes a dark spot on her mother's pristine lineage. She was never allowed to play in the sun as a child, lest she gain a tan or freckle and mar the unblemished white of her skin. She was never allowed to meet boys until after her mother's death when he father sent her to a real school, albeit a highly paid private school with very little student interaction. Forming relations with lesser families was not allowed. She was still forbidden from the sun as per her mother's dying request. And her grieving husband obeyed, after all who was he to deny the wishes of the dead?
Now, Kimiko trained in the sun, sparred with boys and never wore kimono. As she died her black hair into non-existence, she wondered faintly what her mother would think of her now. A little doll playing warrior. That's all she was she guessed, a girl taught to put on kimono and walk straight-backed, donning instead a gi and pants and fighting the 'bad guys'. Instead of hiding behind formality she would roll with the punches and if that didn't make her mother roll over in her vase then knowing her daughter lived with two unmarried men certainly would. The rest were monks and therefore couldn't initiate any sort of questionable activities, but would still deserve her mother's scorn.
She was learning, though, that there was no perfect and it was okay. Because she had friends that liked her for her. They liked Kimiko, faults and all and she couldn't be happier.
It's kinda scary how happy I made it end. I don't presume to know all the ins and outs of Japanese or Chinese customs. I'm pretty sure China banned the foot breaking thing, even though they still have police torturing people. As far as I know, people still used to do it in the early 1920's, so I was just taking a shot in the dark about her mother. But it's fanfiction, so I hold a certain degree of artistic creativity.. Feedback is appreciated.