Raimundo practically flew through the temple in a desperate, but thorough rush, asking the others whether they checked behind this or under that and then checking himself anyways, somehow managing to exhaust Kimiko even when she finally sat down and simply watched. During the many times he passed by, Raimundo didn't even stop to nag her to keep searching.

But eventually, he had to sit down too. Kimiko moved aside to give him some room as he slid down the wall and to the floor, covered in dust and dirt and the smell that always seemed to linger around old things. Neither of them had any idea where Omi went, because he was more thorough than anybody – even more than Raimundo, in his stressed state.

Unlike certain people she knew, Kimiko had tact. This was why she waited a few minutes before saying, "He's not here."

Raimundo forced his eyes to trace the crevices of his palm because otherwise they would flit around like a nervous moth, a scared animal; and right now, he needed to be composed. "Doesn't mean he actually turned on us."

"Doesn't mean that he didn't either," Kimiko said, her tone slow and measured, as though a gradual immersion in her words would make the fall from hope softer.

"Why d'ya gotta be such a pessimist?"

"I'm not," she said, and it was true. She was only being realistic, her mind open to several possibilities, even the ones that were painful to contemplate. Raimundo was the one being obstinately optimistic, obsessively so, and she was only trying to ground him as gently as possible. Out of everybody, he was the only one who had never gone through the genuine feeling of betrayal. For him, the stories of friends turning their backs always ended with some revelation that it hadn't been his friends at all; simply some strange circumstance that propelled his friends towards false duplicity. But Kimiko knew better, and the ironic part was that of all people, Raimundo should have known better too.

But because she had tact, she said none of this. And it wasn't like Raimundo was necessarily wrong…just a little delusional, she felt.

"We should figure out what to do next," she said, because they had sat around long enough.

Raimundo gave a nod that was really more of a lilt. "We should…go find him, I guess. You get Omi. I'll go find Dojo. We'll meet outside, okay?"

But when Raimundo started walking, his legs took him directly to Clay's room. He hesitated, then entered, telling himself that he was only checking for clues, it'll only take a minute.

The smell of Texas still permeated the area, leather and barbeque sauce and something earthy rolled into one. It was as if Clay had only gone out for a bit and would be back soon to find Raimundo trespassing, with some hokey Texas saying prepared on his lips. Raimundo's eyes dragged their way across the walls, over the private trunk, the saddle, the discarded action figures…

For one delirious second, Raimundo thought that he saw a snake – but then he blinked. The snake was Dojo.

"I'm sorry," the dragon said, partially hidden behind the saddle, "I was looking for him, I swear, it's just that then I came here…and…"

Raimundo hunched his shoulders and looked away, feeling both the intruder and the intruded upon. "It's fine."

Dojo moved to exit the room but lingered at the foot of Clay's bed, stuck fast by the tar of nostalgia. "It's funny," he said in the manner of someone who knew that it wasn't. "You'd never think – "

"He didn't," Raimundo said, but it was more out of habit than anything else, the words firm only because he had practice saying them. "I know him. He wouldn't…"

Dojo gave him a look that implied that he was staring down at him, despite standing barely higher than his ankles. It reminded Raimundo of the look that his parents gave him when they wanted him to know that he wasn't fooling anybody, even if he was fooling himself. It was a look specifically designed to cut through bullshit. "You know him, hm? You know he's a paragon of patience and virtue?"

Raimundo stepped back and threw his arms into the sky, his face scrunched up in distaste. "What I know is that he's not the type – "

"So of course you know that he was bullied as a kid and he just took it, right? And of course I don't need to tell you why he wishes he could go to Cornell, 'cause obviously he told you himself. And I'm so sorry for not realizing that the two of you talk so much about the future! I'm sure you've had many fun conversations about things like spaceships and life expectancy and missed opportunities and stuff. Because you know him."

Raimundo tried to unclench his jaw, but it was like the hinges were made of caramel. He raised a hand to his chin but abruptly changed his mind and crossed his arms, not looking down at Dojo but rather to the side of him. "What's your point?"

Dojo's gaze softened and gently, he laid a hand on Raimundo's foot. When the boy didn't react, he circled up and around with a practiced air until he sat at his shoulder. "My point is," he said, more quietly, less righteously, "the people around you, they've got their own private lives going on. Worries and fears and stress they don't often let others in on. Things that motivate them to do things that surprise you." A pause, to gather thoughts, or perhaps to rethink them. "When you're as old as me, you learn to…almost expect these things, really."

It was harder to avoid looking at Dojo when he was right there by his face. It was even harder to sound dismissively resentful. "Don't pretend to be some 'wise sage' or whatever when you were caught off-guard like everybody else," he said, meaning to spit out the words but only mumbling them so that he wasn't even sure if he actually said them to begin with.

"Look, kid, I was surprised. But that's waaay different from it being surprising to me. I know you wanna keep thinking of Clay as this big, nice goofball, but frankly, everybody's got a certain balance of good chi and bad chi in them, and even if the bad stuff's in the minority, it's still there. All we do is manage the balance, pushing back the bad whenever it tries to take over. But…you know. Everybody has their limits." Dojo sighed out the weight of fifteen hundred years and more. It floated around Raimundo in a cloud of heavy emotion. "I guess…Clay reached his."

No, no, that wasn't it. And he wasn't just thinking that out of pure denial, there was just…something that was clicking. Something about what Dojo said and what Hannibal did back when he tried to steal the Moby Morpher from them just yesterday even though it felt like eons ago. Raimundo's crossed arms slackened and threatened to drop to his sides. His eyes sharpened, as though his mind was a whetstone, and stared at Clay's trunk without seeing it.

The reason why Clay stole all their Wu. The reason they didn't see Hannibal after the Showdown, not even hear him curse their name or gloat or whatever. The reason why Ying-Ying took the Wu that she did…why Hannibal…

The earth shook, but not because of any stunning revelation; rather, because of a more mundane reason. An earthquake.

Raimundo fell backwards, and he could see the puzzle pieces in his mind's eye scatter again, the answer scrambled beyond intuition. There was something he needed to look up…something…

"Raimundo! Rai!"

"Uh?" he said, looking up. Dojo was waving an arm in front of his face, and when he saw that Raimundo was jolted back to earth, he pointed up towards Kimiko and Omi. Kimiko, who was clutching her PDA. Omi, who was fiddling with the ends of his sleeves.

All thoughts of metaphorical puzzles imploded into dust in his mind. The look in Kimiko's eyes was more than serious, it was dead serious, holding back an ocean that hid skeletons in its depressingly unfathomable deeps.

"Tsunami," she said, her voice letting out a tiny bit of that ocean. "It's – it's headed for Tokyo."

They headed out immediately before even going over every important bit of news, because a tsunami didn't wait around.

"Ten earthquakes at once in the same minute," Kimiko said, showing them the breaking news reports full of solemn faces. "Then a monster tsunami aiming for Japan. And reports of possible volcanic activity in southern Brazil."

"I can see that the earthquakes are clearly the work of Clay – " and here, Omi winced and glanced towards Raimundo in case he had needed permission to say that, " – but I am not sure…how exactly could he have caused the other things?"

"Tsunamis are caused by severe water displacement," Kimiko rattled off, finding stability in facts. "And earthquakes can cause that. I think it's the same for volcanoes…like if you give them a good shake or something?"

Omi was silent for a second. "I did not realize that Earth could do so much."

The thought that the element of earth was even more dangerous than he had expected, that Clay was more powerful than he realized, was…well, it was obvious in hindsight. Earth wasn't just dirt and stuff, it was the very thing they stood on, the thing the world was made of. But somehow, looking at Clay, that had been easy to forget, or ignore, or something. "Omi, you can handle a tsunami, right?"

"It shall not even reach shore," he promised, his crossed arms like unbreakable chains.

"I'll go with him," Kimiko blurted out, and Raimundo shook his head.

"Sorry, but I need you at the volcano. You'll be better than me at controlling the fires."

"Do you think he'll be there?" Dojo asked. Nobody needed clarification. Nobody wanted the answer.

The very thought of a confrontation was enough to shut down conversation, and as Dojo sped his way to Japan, racing against the giant wave below, the atmosphere felt thin. Thinner than usual, anyways. Raimundo almost breathed out a sigh of relief when Kimiko's PDA beeped and brought sound back in the air.

She glanced at it and her eyes darkened. "Freak tornado in the States."

"Okay, I know those aren't caused by earthquakes."

Kimiko shoved his shoulder, falling into the role of the exasperated member of the team in order to introduce a sense of normality into the tension. "Don't be stupid, he probably used the Sword of the Storm."

"He is trying to divide us," Omi said, not recognizing the subtle efforts to steer the conversations into lighter tones.

"Yeah, well," Raimundo said and quickly realized that he hadn't actually thought of a way to finish the sentence. He was forced to drift off into silence, and the pause lasted an awkward duration of time until Dojo made a sudden descent that left all of their ears popping.

Kimiko hugged Omi before he jumped off. "Good luck."

"Return uninjured," he pleaded, before facing the direction of the wave. Even when they took off once more and he became only a dot of color consumed in the landscape, he maintained the look of a powerful sentinel.

The constant cascade of ash and smoke forced Dojo to land quite a ways away from the eruption itself. Trindade clashed with Kimiko's idea of Brazil, desolate and aggressively rocky, an angry archipelago that seemed ready to throttle any flora that dared grow – but perhaps the looming volcanic eruption was coloring her view. Kimiko jumped off, glad that she had gotten good hiking boots. Judging by all the cliffs, she had a bit of a climb ahead of her.

"Y'sure you can handle it?" Raimundo said, almost ready to jump off himself. He was facing her, but his eyes were drawn to the angry billows of smoke. "I mean…can you even deal with lava?"

"I'll figure something out," she said. "Besides, you're the only one who can stop that tornado."

"Yeah," he said, as though it was a curse. Kimiko only nodded to Dojo and, whether Raimundo had more to say or not, he was off. Kimiko watched the serpentine ribbon weave its way across the sky before tying a piece of cloth around her mouth and heading into the rain of ash. It was at this point that she wished she had brought some of her less favorite clothes.

The hike was rough and long, punctuated by threatening rumbles that shook the ground beneath her. Not that she was thinking about running away, but Kimiko was glad that the only occupants of the island were that of a Navy base – a fully evacuated Navy base, on top of that. It gave her more space in her mind to focus on just getting to the top, as well as more space to devote to fretting over her own hometown. But the thought of Omi having millions of people under his responsibility in comparison to none at all made her clench her teeth and force herself out of the mire of her dark thoughts.

But, she found to her dismay, she couldn't even reach the top anyways. Her way was barred by an unnaturally sheer rock wall that stretched up several meters, completely without footholds. The fact that her climbing had been for naught wasn't the cause for dismay – no, it was what the appearance of an unnatural wall meant. And as she shielded her eyes against the ash and peered at the top…yes, there it was, a sitting figure casually swinging his legs over the edge. Shit.

Clay landed with a dull thrum, forcing Kimiko to step back for balance. When he straightened, she saw that he had used his neckerchief to cover his own mouth. Even so, she could see his smile. It was housed in his cheeks.

"I was really expectin' Rai," he said, a hint of reproach poisoning his tone. "But I s'pose I was gonna git 'round t' y'all at some point."

There were a lot of things Kimiko could say at this point, and certainly a lot of things she wanted to say, but sentences jumbled around in her mind, mixing up anger and trepidation and a longing to be anywhere but here. Was she supposed to plead for him to come back? Was she supposed to shout, shame him into acquiescing?

"What's with the wall?" she asked, and then almost smacked herself in the face. Of course, it was the thing that was easiest to say that she said.

"I figure it's a mite hard t' spar onna island covered in lava," Clay replied, stretching his arms. On his left hand hung the Golden Tiger Claws. Even in the storm of ash, they gleamed. "So I made somethin' t' keep it up there."

"By 'spar' do you mean an actual spar or a fight?" Kimiko asked, sliding her feet into a more stable stance. Her mind was clearing now – she clung to the suggestion of a battle gratefully, a clear path of action towards a cut-and-dry goal now opening up. Clay was still Clay, but now he was a Threat with a capital 'T,' and although she wasn't sure how to deal with Clay, she knew how to deal with Threats. Even Threats that came in the form of her friends.

Clay chuckled amiably. "Jus' a nice li'l hand t' hand. Here, I won't even use th' Tiger Claws." The golden Claws clattered onto the rock. Kimiko's eyes followed after it, staring much longer than was advisable. He had just dropped it…just right in front of her. They couldn't be more than a leap away. If she was fast enough…

Her eyes snapped back up to Clay's face. He betrayed no thoughts behind that soft smile of his, no expectation of what she had just considered doing. But he had expected it, hadn't he? There was no way he didn't think what she just thought.

"Fine," she said, her throat feeling sore – and it wasn't because of the ash. "If it'll knock some sense into you."

Clay's smile only widened and he too sank into a balanced pose. Kimiko didn't even wait for him to get ready. She sprung off the ground and shot towards him, digging her elbow into his stomach.

Clay slid back a few inches, a grimace on his face that twitched into a whoop of disbelief. "Jumped th' gun a li'l, didn'cha?" Kimiko jumped backwards before he could grab her arm.

"All's fair," she said, her mind running through possible move sets. She was already starting off at a disadvantage – Clay was as solid as, well, a rock wall, and compared to him, she was as fragile as a candle's flame. Getting caught by him would mean a quick end for her. The best strategy would be to press her speed advantage and attack relentlessly, or as relentlessly as was possible.

She feinted left and weaved right, ducking under a swinging fist before wrapping her arms around the crook of his elbow, tugging, and letting his weight do the rest. Before he could even thud onto the ground, she brought her leg down in an axe kick onto his throat – but couldn't continue her chain of attack, as Clay immediately rolled away from her.

The glint of gold vied for her attention and she couldn't help but look. The Golden Tiger Claws were right at her feet…she found her hand reaching down…

And then Clay tripped her. Her head bounced off the stony ground and her vision fizzed for a second, and the cloth fell from her face and she took a wheezing breath of shock that turned into a wracking cough. But above, she could see Clay's looming figure winding up a punch and, ignoring the possibility of a bleeding head, she tucked up and did a backwards handspring to her feet before retying her makeshift mask.

But the odd thing was, Clay hadn't even moved his fist. He looked up to where she now stood and straightened up again, a strange look on his face. A look of reluctant frustration. Not at her, she realized, but at himself.

He still couldn't hit girls.

Usually, Clay's stubborn chivalry would have elicited outbursts and lectures full of eye-rolling and terse explanations about how no, chivalry wasn't exactly a good thing, all of which Clay would repel with the words, "It jus' don' feel right." But now, now she could barely restrain a laugh, even when she now had irrevocable proof that this was no imposter. He couldn't actually fight.

She relaxed her stance, and stayed relaxed even as Clay kept his arms raised.

"What're y'all doin'?" Clay demanded, practically spitting out the words. "We're fightin'!"

"No, we're not," she said, crossing her arms, a buoyant smile on her lips.

Clay wobbled on the balls of his feet, as though her words had more force than her punches ever had on him, before letting out a hoarse roar and charging straight towards her, fist raised. She stood. She continued to stand even as he got dangerously close, even as he threw the punch, and didn't even flinch when the fist stopped itself in front of her nose.

"No," she said, "we're not."

Clay's entire body moved with his heavy breaths, laboring with all the force that he didn't use, before he dropped the fist and turned around, kicking at the ground and tearing at his hair. He didn't scream any words, only screamed with the power behind the unthrown punch, until he finally fell to his knees and pounded the ground until he had to stop, lest he tore open his hand. Kimiko uncrossed her arms, still able to hear his breath rattling in his throat.

"Why? Why? Why'm I so stupid?"

Kimiko stepped forward, a hand raised ready to set on his shoulder. "You're not, Clay. I mean, I think this shows that you've got strong convic – "

In an instant, Clay wheeled around, standing, looming, his large hands almost strangling her neck. Not quite. "I don' need yer pity!" He seemed to struggle for another minute as Kimiko, holding up an impassive face, simply stood there. His hands tried to push against the invisible forcefield that only existed in his own mind. And then he brought them to his face and turned around and stomped, muttering, pinching his nose.

At this point, it seemed that now was a good time as ever to pick up the puzzle again. "Clay," Kimiko said, aggressively soft, as though her calmness could permeate the atmosphere and force the tension to dissipate. She didn't step forward this time. "Let's talk about this. What's going on? What do you need?"

Clay paused in his mumbling to snap a glare towards her. "I need y'all t' fear me."

At this, the hair on the back of Kimiko's neck couldn't help but rise. Still, she forced down the welling something in her throat and kept her voice even. "No you don't. You need to go back to the temple. We should – "

"That!" Clay roared, facing her again and pointing a sharp finger. "That's why! Y'all think I'm jus' some bumblin' hick what don' know better? I'll show y'all jus' what I'm capable of!"

"Nobody thinks that. You're my friend, Clay, and I respect – "

"No," Clay growled, "If you respected me, y'all wouldn' be invalidatin' me, y'all would listen, 'stead o' sittin' there, treatin' me like I've got too many cobwebs in th' attic." He was giving her his full glare now, and Kimiko could see his fingers digging into his palm so hard that she worried he would break skin. "I'm gonna make y'all take me seriously. Yer gonna fear me."

"Clay," Kimiko said as kindly as she could, given the situation, "you can't even bring yourself to hurt me."

"Yeah," he said, clutching at his eye, taking off his hat and running his hand through his hair, "'cause I ain't strong 'nuff yet. But I know how t' get stronger." He tipped his hat in an easy arc, and a can of soup plopped into his other hand.

Kimiko recognized it instantly, and this time she stepped forward, arms reached out, eyes wide with panic. "No!"

Clay only gave a lopsided grin as he held up the can of Lao Mang Long soup. "Now yer afraid, huh? Now yer takin' me seriously?" Kimiko froze, as though she thought any sudden movement on her part would cause him to down the soup. But minutes passed, and nothing happened, besides the slight fading of Clay's grin as his eyes swung from her to the can and back and his brow furrowed, erasing any sign of his earlier crowing in a sea of doubt.

She could still do it. She could still talk him down. Very carefully, Kimiko started to breathe again.

"There's no turning back once you drink it," she said, her head heavy with headaches and ash. "You'll become a monster."

His grip was still tight on the can, but he hadn't even opened it.

"You won't even be you anymore. It'll wipe out every trace of your humanity."

He bit his lip.

"I know you, Clay. I know you don't want that. You don't want to lose control over yourself like that."

And finally, he lowered his arm and turned towards her, mouth thinned in a grim line.

"Who're you t' tell me what I want?"