The whispers...

The smirks and the jabs...

The soft voices at the very edge of her periphery...

She... she couldn't take it any longer...

"Gaaaaaaaaaaaaaa-" Akali started screaming, clutching her head, until Kona flicked her right between the eyes, shutting her up. "Ow."

"Shh... you're messing up my chi flow."

Akali and Kona were sitting together on several throw pillows, perched cross-legged on the floor of a cold, open-air pagoda. Incense burned at the structure's center, and many of their ninja-student peers were seating similarly about the Cultivation Hall. Here was where the martial artists of the Kinkou Order, be they grand master or lowly disciple, came to cultivate their Nei'gong, or their inner power. Meditation and solemn contemplation were proven methods of strengthening a martial artist's chi- the inner life force- and the manifestation of that chi. Be it a kick from a Shojin monk with force like a dragon swinging its tail, a burst of wind from an exile's blade, or the impregnable defense of a Wuju master's iron will, all Ionian martial arts were born from chi and from contemplation and realization of that self's chi.

Thus, all Kinkou Xiao'nin were obligated to spend several hours every few days, silently reflecting about all that they have learned in a bid to deepen their understanding of their skills.

However, it seemed even here, Akali could not escape the sharp tongues of gossip that had plagued her for the last few days. This time, it was the She-Ogre and her Posse of Stupid that were whispering at the edge of the Cultivation Hall. Looking over at her. Sneering. Smiling. The She-Ogre was just one more in a legion's worth of her peers that just loved to eat her alive whenever she fell, screwed up, or in any way failed to live up to her heritage as the Pruner's daughter. Which, of course, was almost always. Bad enough to them that Akali should be the one to be descended from a Trimultrivite, she had the misfortune of further sinning against them- she wasn't a Shen or Zed-like prodigy.

Damn, damn it all.

Sighing, Akali fell back on the throw pillows, gazing up at the centuries-old roof that capped the Cultivation Hall. Her gaze wandered through the bridges and valleys of those ancient wooden supports. If only she could take back what she said on that bridge. Start over again.

A voice cut into her pensive veil.

"Akali." She swiveled her head at the mention of her name. Standing before her was a ninja messenger... and not just any messenger. The badge on his arm, a silver scythe over a green field, told her instantly from whom the message was. He was one of the Pruner of the Sacred Tree's special men. In other words, one of Mother's personal lapdogs.

She was so not in the mood.

"What do you want?" Akali scratched at her nose. "I'm busy, you Sha'bi." she said, lying over several silk pillows on her back.

The man's smooth, hairless face twitched at the vulgar language. His already thin eyes narrowed even further.

"Your honorable mother requests your presence immediately."

Akali glanced outside, estimating the time by the position of the sun.

"I don't have training with her for another fukkin' hour."

"You will do as you are told, Xiao'nin." The man ground his teeth at the young girl's defiance. "And you will refrain from using such language in her honorable presence."

"Go blow it up your ass, Gou'si."

The man leaned forwards, his eyes growing dangerous. Even Kona seemed to be put a little on edge by the man's anger. Lapdog he may be, but Mother never did tolerate weaklings under her service. The man was almost certainly an elite of the elite of their order. Akali, however, still lay on her back, defiant. Even if she couldn't afford to be rebellious to Mother, she still had the spirit to give her lapdogs a hard time. It was the thought that counted.

Needless to say, the man did not appreciate Akali's 'spirit'.

"You don't want me to force you, kid. How do you think being dragged off unconscious to your mother by a 'Gou'si' will do to your reputation? Don't you think you've humiliated yourself enough for a week?"

At this, Akali sighed quietly. So even her mother's lapdogs have heard about her 'secret confession', have they?

She jumped to her feet, and turned to Kona. She smiled in some soft apology.

"I'll see you later, Kona." Her friend gave her a sympathetic grin, and raised her hand in goodbye. Akali didn't even care to glance at the messenger before setting off.

"I can find my own way there." She said, and set off to her mother's quarters at the other side of the Kinxui Fortress. Satisfied, the messenger stepped back, and disappeared into the shadows.


It was quiet in Mother's quarters. The current Pruner of the Sacred Tree liked it that way; kept it that way, by her edict. That tyrant had an iron grip upon anything she cared about, so no wonder her daughter was so messed up, Akali mused.

The teenage ninja strode in, entering Mother's private dojo. Seated at the other end of the room was a woman, clothed in the robes of a martial arts master. Approaching forty now, the Pruner of the Sacred tree still had a figure befitting a warrior, and a full mane of dark hair that fell in sheets down the sides of the woman's head, framing a face that would have been beautiful, exquisite even, if not for the thin notes of severity. The crow's feet, the frown lines, and the piercing eyes that could cut steel.

This was her mother, Akasou, Kinkou Trimultrivte, Fist of Shadow and Pruner of the Sacred tree.

Akali turned, and first bowed to Mother as was Ionian custom, before sitting cross-legged onto the bamboo mat floor. Her mother didn't mince words with her greeting.

"I wanted to start your training early, child."

"Fine."

"I didn't inconvenience you?"

"No. I was meditating with Kona at the Cultivation Hall."

"Good."

Akasou tipped her hand up, bidding Akali to rise, and at Mother's behest, she obeyed. There was no more defiance from Akali, not like she dared show to Mother's lapdog. She had learned that lesson long ago.

"So you fancy that Shen boy." Akasou tossed out causally. The corners of her mouth jerked up by a fraction of an inch. It was barely a twitch of the face, but Akali knew Mother well. She may as well be bursting out with laughter. God damn it. Was there anyone who didn't hear about her rejection in this monastery?

Akasou's faint smile grew.

"I approve…"

"Mother-"

"Of him and no one else." Akasou cut in bluntly. "The name of the Aka clan is long and storied and that boy is worthy enough to join with our honorable lineage. I congratulate you on your adequate choice of men. I pray upon you children that will be healthy and strong."

"That is disgusting, Mother, and you underestimate me." Akali snapped, stripping off her study robes. "I am nothing more than a blade for Kinkou; heir to the title of the Fist of Shadow… not like some ridiculous love-struck town-girl." Striding over to her mother's cabinets, she reached out for her sparring uniform.

"Perhaps I overestimate you, child. I worry sometimes that there is nothing beyond for you than the Kinkou."

Akasou rose, pulling on her own Master's robe on as she did. The brilliant white field contrasting against the deep crimson of the stripes along her shoulders of the robe was proof to the entire Wulin- the martial arts world- that she was grand master of her Kung Fu techniques." Though it is my honor to serve as the Fist of Shadow, and the world's honor to be served by me, my path is destined to be a bloody and lonely one. Should you follow in my footsteps, child, you would never have the simple pleasures of life. An ordinary town-girl crush might be good for you."

Now this didn't sound like the mother she knew. The famously uptight Akasou? Advocating the ordinary?

Uhg.

Akali shivered at the countless memories of suffering under Mother's punitive tutelage. The woman known as Akasou may be one of the strongest and most talented martial artists in the entire Wulin, but Akali knew from firsthand experience that Mother knew fuck all about parentage. Akasou used to force her to spend a full day outside holding buckets of water in the air whenever someone other than Shen had come ahead of her in drilling exercises. Akali's arms were still sore, it felt like, from the immediate month after Zed had been adopted into the Order. It had taken that long before Akasou gave up on her daughter ever overtaking Zed, and not without a healthy amount of complaining.

Finished, she securely tied her robe, and rose.

Akali marched down to one end of the dojo, her black sparring uniform fully donned and flowing about her. She had long since finished the forms section of her instructions with her mother, and was now practicing sparring with Akasou every day.

Akali turned on her heel, and bowed to Mother, signaling Akasou to begin her exercises. Her mother gave the slightest of inclinations in reply.

And then, Akasou stepped forwards, striking deeply with the point of her fingertips. her feet were slow, but her fists were lightining fast. Akasou's filed, razor-sharp fingernails zoomed past; Akali could hear the air hiss from the speed of the Fist of Shadow's strike. She would have had her eyes put out if she hadn't stepped to the side at the last instant. Though Akali loathed admitting it, she knew: Mother really was incredible.

"What do you care about Shen anyways, Mother?" Akali said as coldly as she dared, while dodging a wicked thrust. Ugh. She hated that kung fu style.

"Hah." Akasou kept lunging forwards with swift, deadly strikes, her daughter barely dodging each one. "You know, your mother was quite the beauty back in the day."

Of course Akali knew it. Akasou reminded her constantly of her power and beauty in her glory years. But Akali knew that emotionally, she was a paper tiger. Despite the Pruner of the Sacred Tree's proud and diginied appearance, Akali knew that Mother was hiding behind her arrogant coldness. Deep inside the Pruner of the Sacred Tree really was a crude, afeminate she-demon that didn't know how to connect with people- so she chose to push them away.

Akali quickly learned to treat her mother's speech as something like a tell; when mother grew blunter and cruder with her words, it was high time to run, hide or find one of Mother's underlings to quickly put in the line of fire and flee. The alternative was usually being picked out and forced to run outside for fifty Li or something while Mother sat outside watching her, drinking tea and pouting.

In fact, judging by how sloppy Mother's speech was getting, something about what they said was pissing her off right now-

The young ninja was brought back to earth by a stinging straight punch from Akasou, leaving the junior ninja's forearms shaking and numb. She winced at the pain. This was bad. Akali only hoped that she would be able to walk by the time Mother was finished with her 'rampage'.

"You and-!" Akasou stepped back, letting Akali's desperate kick whiff past her face. The snarl of her words was getting worse. "—Shen should've been siblings!"

Akasou patted down two punches, and then turned to bring her own leg up into a rear kick. The savage blow kicked out Akali's feet, toppling her balance, and forcing the young Xiao'nin to cartwheel back on her hands. But this was the only mistake that Akasou needed to finish it.

"Back in the day, Master Khen-" Akasou slid forwards, tracking her young daugther's movements, and then leaped up, locking her thighs around Akali's head. Akali tried to pry her mother's legs off, but Akasou was too strong. The weight of their bodies combined overcame Akali's center of gravity, sending the both of them toppling to the ground- but with Akali on the bottom.

"Gugh!" The ninja trainee hit the tatami floor hard, knocking her breath out. With Akali now safely trapped between her legs, Akasou resumed her diatribe.

"-Back in the day Khen and I were practically engaged. We were the two best in our class! Comrades for years! And then that damn Su-Ling woman stole him from me."

Nobody stole anyone from you; you're just a frigid bitch... is what Akali might have muttered under her breath, if she had any breath to speak with. As it was, Akali barely had enough oxygen flowing to her brain to think, let alone retort in wit thanks to her mother's leg-to-headlock. Akali was already patting the ground in surrender, but Akasou was no longer paying attention.

"M-Mother..." Akali muttered through a face full of Akasou's leg. "...can't... breathe..."

"Country hick. What did she have that I didn't? Beside her stupidly soft hair… and her kind eyes..." Akasou was grumbling to the ceiling now, ignoring her slowly suffocating daughter. She frowned in contemplation.

"Mm-pmh..." Akali replied, drunk on oxygen deprivation.

"Well, whatever," Akasou got up, releasing her daughter as she did.

Burning, Akali felt. Everything was around her was burning. She fell to the floor and coughed, tears in her eyes, drawing greedy breaths.

"G-ghaak."

"Oh quit your melodrama," Akasou sighed, rolling her eyes. She started stripping off her master's robes in an extremely unladylike manner. "Training is finished for today, my daughter. You may retire to your room, and prepare for our annual pilgrimage. Pack light and intelligently. We have a long journey ahead of us over the next few weeks."

"G-ghk." Akali would have replied, but her windpipe felt like it was swollen shut. She bowed in 'gratitude', and then retreated.


It was finally quiet in Hirana Monastary. The only sound that could be heard throughout the largely empty halls was the soft pit-patter of a grand master's blood. Fresh scarlet blended with old crimson upon the stained stone floor. Grandmaster Bao's breath had ceased, his limbs had stilled, and his eyes had long since been fixed downwards, staring blankly at into the ground. Death had, at long last, claimed the old man.

But not before the Blood Moon Sect had gotten what they wanted out of him.

Shueto, who was sitting on a wooden stool facing Grandmaster Bao, turned and looked up to his sister. His hands were coated up to the elbow in blood. As he was busy working upon the late Grandmaster, he had neglected the taking any sort of notes during his 'interrogation'. Hell, he wasn't even sure what the good master was saying half of the time. His sister acted as his scribe; busily jotting down every word the Grandmaster said, screams, curses and pleads aside.

Shuezi turned the inked paper solemnly. On it, the three largest characters stood out in particular:

And Shueto smiled in reply, understanding.

He slapped his knee, stood and stretched. Oof. He really was sore. He had been sitting for way too long. Shuezi helpfully handed him his coffin. The older brother grasped it with a single hand and hefted the massive box back squarely on his hips.

"Ready?" Shueto asked.

Shuezi cocked her head, and grinned.

"Good." Shueto turned and started strolling to the exit. They would finally leave, a temple-turned tomb in their wake. "To the Kinkou Monastery, then."


Akali turned, her pack on her back, with only a thin Kinkou Order's uniform shielding her from the brisk, biting wind and but a few small parcels of food in her pack, despite the week-long journey that faced her. She gazed up at the mountain-clasped Kinxui Hidden Fortress above her, watching every blazing torch mounted along its long walls slowly be extinguished, one-by-one, shrouding the fortified monastery in night and darkness. When she lowered her head, nearly every member of the entire Kinkou Order spread out below her, each packed similarly to her, lightly. Kinkou ninjas were made of tougher stuff than ordinary men. Every ration left unpacked was a Kinkou mark of pride to them; it was proof of their endurance and tenacity in the face of fatigue and hunger and it was proof of the depth of their commitment to austerity.

...And there was something else, this time.

The Dai'nin, the elite-caste ninjas, were standing at attention at the Kinxui Hidden Fortress' main gates. Their wide-brimmed hats might have marked them at first glance as lowly farmers. However, instead of bamboo, their hats were made of the finest, darkest silk. And their robes were a pitch black instead of the more common colors of gray for a Xiao'nin junior ninja, or dark blue for a Chu'nin; intermediate ninja.

They were all just standing... and waiting.

"Kona," Akali bent forwards, whispering to her friend, who was busy polishing off what little food rations she had. Kona always did prefer catching her breakfast, for whatever reason. "What are the Dai'nin doing up there?"

"Mm-Mpmh."

Kona's head swiveled upwards, her eyes straining to look at the black-shrouded figures standing in the distance. She frowned, bent back down and continued chewing at her rice ball, her brow furrowed in contemplation.

"I dunno, 'Kali." Suddenly, Kona swallowed, stood, and set her hand to her eyes, scanning the crowd of Kinkou before them. "Come to think of it, I don't see Master Khen or your mom." Akali's mouth twitched at the casual mention of Mother, but she let it slide. Now that Kona had mentioned it, where was Mother?

And then, the main gates to the Kinkou Order burst open, from inside, out strode two masked figures, followed by four of the Kinkou's Shadow Guard- Master's Khen's personal men, on their arms shone a badge with a golden eye over a blue field.

To the right, Headmaster Khen marched. He had his face mask on, concealing all but his eyes out of view. Dark robes, a dark mask, and twin swords were mounted upon the leader of the Kinkou Sect. Their leader was normally quite a friendly man. Not like most others that were Eye of Twilight at all, the Kinkou Elders would titter, but it offered to him widespread respect, even among other sects. But right then, right now- behind the mask, you could only see the cold, calculating eyes of a warrior.

To his left, it was Mother. Master Akasou strode forwards, clad in green, and with a smaller mask that covered the woman's lower face. In Akali's opinion, Mother did so to little effect. Mother always looked scary, balaclava or not. The mask only emphasized that point. Strapped to the woman's hips were sharpened, bladed throwing rings that could be used almost like swords in each hand; it was a modified weapon of Shojin origin known as chakram.

And in between them, a rather little square object, covered in black cloth. Was it a box? Two by two of Master Khen's personal Dai'nin, the Shadow Guard, were transporting it upon large, wooden rods inserted along each side, like it was some fanciful lord being carried upon a litter. Somehow, though it was neither imposing in size nor appearance, that little box put Akali's hair on edge. Something terrible was inside of it. Some kind of awful chi.

"Why... why are Master Khen and mother in their battle regalia?" Akali bent forwards and whispered, "And what is that... box?"

Transfixed, her fellow junior ninja could only shake her head in reply.

"'Kali... I have no idea."

Then, Headmaster Khen turned to one of his lieutenants; his voice radiated out from behind his mask unusually brisk and curt. Something was putting the Headmaster on edge.

"We're finished here, Sao. Let's get the Order moving." The lieutenant nodded, and then turned and whistled. The sharp sound cut deep into the night.

At his command, the cattle drivers yelled, the pack animals brayed, and the Kinkou pilgrimage caravan set out on its way; a long, single file march down the treacherous slopes and deadly falls of Mount Kinxui, all the way to their rented ships docked in the village harbor several miles away. And from there, they were to travel all the way from there to Ing'Xao village.

But before Akali turned to begin her own journey, she gave the box one last look. It bounced along harmlessly enough, being jostled while carried down the rocky slopes by four of their Order's best.

But...

Just what about that box... made her feel like it was going home.


What is Wuxia?

"(The Wuxia Hero) is honest in words, effective in action, faithful in keeping promises, fearless in offering his own life to free the righteous from bondage."

- Historian Sima Qian

The word wuxia is composed of two characters. The first character, wu is used to describe things having to do with martial arts, war, or the military. The second character, xia refers to the type of protagonist found in wuxia fiction, and is also a synonym for chivalry. Thus, wuxia fiction is translated as martial-chivalric fiction. Wuxia is all about martial arts, but it is also about honor, about romance, about loyalty, and about betrayal and revenge. Power and elegance- Samuel L Jackson describes this staple Chinese genre well in the below quote:

"Wuxia. Say it gently... 'whooshah'... and it's like a breath of serenity embracing you. Say it with force, 'WuSHA!', and you can feel its power."

— Samuel L. Jackson

I only hope I can do this long and honored genre justice as the story progresses.