b. Hello! and welcome to the first chapter! Yes the title is wierd, and won't apply at the beginning but WHO REALLY CARES! Any ways this hasn't been here because I had a mac laptop before and it didn't have that tool bar with bolf and stuff, it also didn't have paragraphing. (TEH HORROR) so now I have AN capabilitys. Well actually I'm a co-author so its more C-AN. Me and my friend are writing this together. And thanks for anyone who already reviewed!
Disclaimer: Don't own A:tla or XS. (I don't want to do disclaimeres so this goes for ALL CHAPPIES) /b
Kimiko stared out at the long river in front of her. The water was beautiful with the reflection of the leaves. She could see the river stretch on to a dam in the distance.
According to master Fung the monks had to practice somewhere foreign. They were "mastering" the training grounds in the temple, apparently. So here they were in an uncharted forest, in some strange unknown area. Whatever.
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"Hey, Jet, some people are by the reservoir," said a small girl. Next to her stood the tall teenaged boy she was talking to.
"They Fire Nation?" he said, his voice dripping with venom.
"Dunno. One of them looks like he's wearing the robes, but he is a bit too young to be any threat. The rest seem fine."
"I'll see. Good job Smellerbee." The boy left for the river.
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"Man, this sucks. No electricity, no video games, no nothing..." the Brazilian boy groveled, hands shoved deep into the deepest, darkest depths of his jean pockets.
"No indoor plumbing, either," Dojo added helpfully.
"Yeah." Raimundo nodded vigorously for a moment, then paused.
"Wait. Do you... Even use indoor plumbing...? I dun really get that…"
Dojo crossed his arms indignantly. "Well, what did you THINK I did?"
Rai shuddered slightly. "Never really thought about that at all 'till now. Aaaaaand I kinda wish I still hadn't."
Another day, another 'training session', and another... Discussion of Dojo's toilet habits. Laced with big grammatical no-nos; grammatical no-nos almost as big as 'no-nos'.
Ughh. Kimiko turned her attention away from the unsavory conversation and back to the water. It was lucky they were right by a river. That would give at least one of Xiaolin Dragons a chance to really put some time into becoming one with his element. It would've really been a tranquil, nice, almost spiritual moment, if the Xiaolin Dragon of Water in question hadn't been screaming his freakishly round little head off at the water.
The frustrated, worn-out young monk had been at it for a while now. Apparently having established that a), his lack of ability to quite entirely master his element yet was directly the fault of the water itself, and b) that the water had ears, Omi had started yelling at the river out of sheer frustration. Having quickly used up the 'swear' words he knew ('Holy crud' and 'Screwball'- to the best of what Raimundo could translate, that is), Omi was now moving on to shouting what he thought were cuss words but were, in fact, actually the names of various rare indian insects.
Clay was silent; head tilted, back against a tree, his whole bulky body hunched slightly around the little piece of oak he was carving, poised in delicate concentration.
All in all, the Xiaolin monks seemed to all be happy – or, at least, preoccupied – with their separate little activities. Well – all except for Kimiko, that is. The act of breathing, unfortunately, did not seem to be enthralling her. She frowned; almost starting to wish that maybe, just maybe, by some strange twist of events, that they would actually start TRAINING sometime during this training session.
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Behind him, above him, below him, and beside him: the whole world blurred as Jet swung through the trees. It was dizzying, breathtaking, heart-racing, but he didn't even notice. It was funny how much clearer thoughts could become in the most unlikely places. He was distanced from the world at times like this; lost in thought isn't quite the right way to put it. He wasn't lost. He was as far from lost as he ever was, in a place among his own thoughts and dreams and musings and half-thoughts, feet firm on the ground in the land of clouds.
Swinging one sword out ahead of him as the other left its hold, there was always the likelihood of him miscalculating by the smallest bit; his sword catching on empty air and him plummeting to the unforgiving ground. But he didn't. He never did. And that was the beauty in it.
It was times like this the whole world became just that much clearer, and he felt he could sort out anything that came his way, any problem, any obfuscation, any conflict, any trouble.
Anything but where he was going.
Shit.
He'd missed the river. Cursing not-so-under his breath, he redirected himself and continued to his destination. A few minutes later, his feet hit the ground and his swords met their sheaths.
Jet eyed the strangers warily, but cooly. He was here to find out if they were a threat, and any real threat would be able to disguise itself and pass as not dangerous if he acted too suspicious.
None of the monks seemed to notice the strange boy fall from the trees. Everyone was too surprised that Omi had told the water to "Insect off!" to notice. That was the closest he got to an actual expression all day!
Well, none of them noticed besides Dojo… Well. Dojo wasn't a monk, but at least he was a dragon.
Said dragon stared up at the boy. More specifically, the giant hook things dangling from his waist. The boy, however, barely gave a passing glance to Dojo.
He seemed to be watching the monks. Waiting for something. Silent. Almost like a predator.
"Or a stalker…" the creepy thought crossed Dojo's mind but he dismissed it immediately. The closest thing these kids would ever get to a stalker was Jack Spicer. Except Kimiko, but she was rich.
