Swan Song

by Christopher R. Martin

Chapter 4 – ひさしぶりだね (Long Time No See)

"You sure you don't need any help cleaning up?"

I register the question into my head for what is the third time in a row now. "We have it covered," I answer as I roll my eyes and grin, putting a calculator in my hand down on the dining table.

"I don't know," Yang persists. "This looks worse than our room. Well, my side, anyway. If you need an extra set of hands, just—"

"Goodnight, Yang," I say before he gets a chance to finish. He must have listened because footsteps thump from the stairs all the way to the second floor. I chuckle a bit and continue tinkering away at my calculator. "Now, where were we?"

Tonight's celebration was definitely something to remember. It's left us not only with a disheveled dojo in need of some serious cleaning up—streamers, cups, plates, utensils and other kinds of litter having accumulated on the floor—but also quite the financial blow. Wads of cash are arranged before me on the table to pay off expenses for the party.

The whole dojo has reverted back from the eclectic kaleidoscope of colors to its usual palette of greens, oranges, yellows and beige. Lupin, Kitsune, Noah and a few of our friends are scattered across the place getting some mopping, scrubbing, sweeping and garbage-collecting done, allowing me to focus on getting this transaction done. The loud, upbeat music and cheering have been replaced by the much softer sounds of sweeping brooms, clattering plastic and metal and calculator keys clicking.

I make these observations and then promptly type numbers on my calculator.

Four hundred for equipment.

Twelve for catering.

Two for the DJ.

Nine for set up.

Holy crap, I think, a little intimidated by the numbers showing on the screen. Vaguely intrigued, as shown by a snicker I let slip from my tongue. Even to a Woo Foo knight, money can be a weakness.

As I arrive at the grand total, a knocking sound disrupts me. I make for the door, holding the clumps of cash in one hand.

"I got it," I say to no one in particular, assuming that everyone down here gets the message. The knocking continues. I exhale. "Yeah, yeah. I heard you the first time. Don't get your shorts knotted up."

Both doors part to the side, and standing in front of me is an arctic fox slightly taller, slimmer and of a much younger age than I. As if there weren't enough whippersnappers in this dojo. His face is familiar, so I guess he gets a pass because of it.

A second later, he is joined by a female snow leopard with an almost-perpetual glower. They're both wearing the same set of clothes – a military officer's uniform. Buttoned jacket, white dress shirt inside, epaulettes, slacks and black shoes. I don't recognize this particular getup from any of the military services I've heard of. The pins and badges attached to them appear legitimate, though.

"Good evening," says the fox, his appearance ringing bells that I can't get yet. "Yo, was it?"

A vague idea dawns in me. "That's me, alright. And you're…Tyler?" I ask, folding my arms and leaning on the doorframe. He confirms it with a nod. Weiss's older brother. "Um… Come on in." Even though I'm not expecting any more visitor tonight—and didn't even want any, period—I motion for him and his companion to enter. Again, only because he's familiar.

As soon as he's within their sights, Kitsune and Weiss drop their chores to greet him. Weiss runs over and leaps at him in an embrace, crying out 'big brother!' in a sickeningly endearing fashion. I stay by the sidelines to let them have a moment to talk a bit before leading him and the snow leopard across the hall.

Over at the dining area, we take a seat by the table. Tyler sits to my right, and the female feline to my left. Her hardened expression has not left its place, and those narrow eyes of hers impart a coarse feeling across every part of my body.

"Oops, my bad. Rain, Yo. Yo, this is Rain, my partner" says Tyler, stumbling where he sits. Gesturing with his hand as he introduces us to the other. He sets her eyes on her and adds, "Well, go on. Say something." The way he says this is like how someone speaks to an animal. Well, we're all animals here, but you get the point.

Rain reaches out a paw to me, her face unchanging. We shake hands and she says to me in a matching tone of voice, "Pleasure to meet you."

"Pleasure's all mine, Rain." I nod my head at her and smile lightly, even if it does nothing to alter her mood. I make my way to a pantry in the kitchen and reach inside for three glasses. "Your sister and great grandmother should be done soon. In the meantime, care for a drink?"

"Nah, I'm good. Rain?" Tyler utters politely, looking back at Rain.

"I think I'll pass, too," says Rain, arms folded and head tilted downwards. At least she's not mute.

I fill up the glasses in my hand anyway and levitate them to the table, one for each of us. "Just in case."

Back at the table, Tyler clasps his hands together and rests them atop the wooden surface. "Thanks, I guess." Five seconds pass before he speaks again. "Actually, Yo, we're also here because there's something we want to discuss with you."

My stomach slightly clenches. I can't ignore the feeling if I tried. Whatever this matter Tyler and Rain have on their hands is, I get the feeling that it must be something that not a lot of people know about. That only I know of. It must be important, since these two went out of their way to come to this place, and in the middle of the night, no less.

"Me?" I ask.

Tyler rubs his paws together, clasps them and then rests his chin on his knuckles. "We could use your, um…expertise. Seeing as you've been here for God-knows-how-long and you were recently made a Woo Foo Grandmaster, Rain and I figured you might know a thing or two about our current situation. You see—"

"It's about what happened two years ago," Rain joins in, making no bones about it. Raising her head a little to look at me.

The words 'two years ago' piques my interest. I lean towards the table, gather my thoughts and say, "Go on."

"This, erm…Infernal Beast. You've fought it before," says Tyler, whose posture has become laidback, slouching a little against his backrest.

"Yes. I have," I say with caution, crooking my brow. Now that he's brought up the Infernal Beast, he has my complete attention. Every time I hear even a passing mention of it, I have no choice but to invest myself in the matter. "You were there at the ceremony, if memory serves me, so you probably know that alre—"

"I mean you and that thing go way back. Correct me if I'm mistaken, but your first encounter happened over one hundred years ago when you were just sixteen years old." He says this all plainly, his inflections non-existent, cutting straight to the chase just like his partner.

This Tyler is different from the one I'm used to. In his voice is a power, a conviction, that I don't really associate him with. Behind those green eyes, I see someone else. Not the boy bound to his duties to his family, but a man with direction. A man who chases after his goal like a dog chases its own tail.

I should be impressed by this. I should be honored that he knows me. Who I am, the reputation I've gained over the years and what I've done to earn that reputation. But I am more curious and, to be frank, weary than I am impressed or honored.

Clearing my throat, I look at the two of them and steel my expression. "Well, I'm flattered that you've done your homework about me, but what exactly does something from the past have to do with today?" It's kind of strange to hear a statement like that coming out of me, of all people. The answers are right in front of me, where they've always been, yet here I am asking this question like they aren't.

Tyler takes out a sheet of paper from his inner pocket as a response to my question. He turns it around, revealing it to be a photograph of some sort, and sets it down on the table.

I bring the photograph to the middle of the table, directly underneath the light bulb above our heads.

"This was taken last week by one of our satellites. It's a picture of an islet southeast off the coast of this country. One among a network of them," says Tyler, enunciating his words. "Notice something there?"

I look at where he's pointing his finger. Hidden within the islet's vegetation is a silhouette – a person. It's hard to make anything out because of how blurred the picture is. But even then, this man's—or woman's—identity is concealed by a cloak on its back, so it's not like a better quality's going to solve anything.

Whoever this person is, he or she strikes me as peculiar. Maybe even familiar. This must be a castaway. But from what little I can gather, a couple of factors say otherwise. This is a picture of the entire islet, not just a portion of it. No wreckage that even points to being stranded in a place like this is shown here. No plane crash, no shipwreck, nothing. Moreover, if this person is stranded, then he or she would have tried to make an escape, but once again, nothing here indicates that. There's no makeshift raft by the shore.

If anything, my guess is that this figure somehow arrived on this meager piece of land. I don't know how, but it just is. And given the things I've encountered in my life, the impossible usually ends up being…well, possible.

"I don't understand," I say in a glass-half-full sort of way. "What would a person be doing on an islet?" I lean closer to and soak up more of the picture to try and make some sense out of it. "And how exactly does the Infernal Beast fit into this?"

"I was just getting to that," says Tyler, who whips out another photograph from the pocket of his pants. He moves it closer for me to inspect. "This was taken three days ago." His eyes are trained solely on the picture, squinting, showing anticipation.

And I can see why. This is another picture of the islet and the veiled stranger, except here the islet has been split perfectly in the middle. Both halves are partially sunken in the ocean, and at the center is the hooded person standing on the surface of the water. Poised in a fighting stance. The posture of a martial artist. A Woo Foo Knight.

Rain then brings out her own pictures from her person. These were also taken in the past few days, and they depict what has become of the other neighboring islets. Destroyed. Obliterated. Just like the first one. Some slightly sunken, the others fully submerged without a single trace of them to be seen. They were all decimated the same way: with a perfect slice at the center. And they always have the mystery person showing that same pose, that same form. The last picture in this gallery sees him or her standing triumphantly, menacingly, atop the last islet's remains. Gazing at the vast ocean in front of him.

Having incredible power is one thing, but to needlessly flaunt it is just excessive. It makes one wonder how one could acquire this sort of strength in the first place.

"We've been keeping tabs on this guy lately," starts Tyler, eyeing the haphazard collage of pictures. "Everything about him just spells trouble."

"What makes you say that?" I ask as I take a sip of my water.

"Not sure. Something about him just rubs me the wrong way. I know it looks like we're grasping at straws, and it's unfair considering what you bunch have had to go through, but you can never be too careful with an odd character like The Cloak here."

"'The Cloak'?" I raise an eyebrow and smirk at the nickname.

"Hey, we need to give the guy some kind of identity if we plan on keeping an eye on him, don't we?" Tyler shrugs and chuckles, acknowledging the silliness of the name. "But yeah, what do you think, Yo?"

Rain and Tyler gaze at me and lean forward.

A fellow warrior on some uncharted part of the ocean, with talent and power that equals or even surpasses that of a Woo Foo Master. It's almost surreal that someone trained in our ancient art could be as powerful as me or my fellow Pioneers. As powerful as my sons. He could be an ally to us or a dangerous adversary to be weary of.

I'm about to find out the answer…

After a moment of consideration, I clear my throat and exhale. "Okay. I still don't know what the Infernal Beast has to do with any of this."

"Take a closer look," says Rain, bringing one picture nearer as an example and tapping on it repeatedly. "Notice something?"

I lean my head towards it and squint my eyes. I shake my head at her, and she lifts the picture up and tilts it into an angle. I thankfully stay composed, but to my horror, I do notice something from this position.

Behind 'The Cloak' as he throws his arm down is a dark afterimage comprised of canine traits. A dog-like snout, a gaping maw with pointed fangs and gleaming globes for eyes. I jot these features down in my brain and hold myself from shivering in my spine. The other pictures have this, too, with all kinds of dog features like a flailing tail and a sharp-nailed paw. And in the final picture, a bank of black clouds flitters above and around him.

Last I remembered, Fog is a substance invisible to the naked eye. When I ask Tyler how they managed to capture something like this, his response is that it's because of their specially-designed technology that allows them to tackle strange phenomena such as this one. It's quite vague, but I suppose this means that the weight behind this situation is finally sinking in. Sinking back in. That people realize not to treat any of this like a joke, not a game.

Because it isn't. The Infernal Beast has claimed more lives than I can count. Just because this…monster has been slain does not mean the threat of it is completely erased. Even when the Beast is gone, its presence, its influence, will stay deeply seated in the face of this world. Somehow, someway, whether near or far, whether today or tomorrow, it will rear its ugly head and keep a firm grasp on all life.

I remember this…as Makai, the Beast himself, had told me when I fought him one hundred years ago. For all his treachery, deceit, cunning and underhandedness, there's always a grain of truth in everything he says. Everything. And the words he said to me then could not be any truer than now.

"How long have you been keeping an eye on him?" I ask, appearing calm to the both of them. But my clenched fist trembling beneath the table begs to differ.

"Three weeks," says Rain.

"Direct orders from our commanding officer," Tyler adds, drinking the last of his water.

"Can I meet him? I want to have a chat with him and see if he knows what he's up against."

"Sorry, no can do. Classified stuff and all. General admission into our headquarters isn't usually allowed." Five seconds of silence and averting his eyes to an empty part of the table, and he looks up to face me. "Not to mention that he's a very busy man. And trust us when we say we have this under wraps."

I tap my foot on the floor to a rhythm. To say I'm skeptical is putting it lightly. The determination of these two is an admirable thing, but it can get them killed as easily as it can help them. By the looks of it, they don't seem to be one hundred percent savvy to what they're up against. And in the heat of conflict, that meager margin of error can end up deciding the outcome.

I want to lend a hand. To ensure that nothing goes awry. I want to help however way I can. Something, anything, will be good. This was my struggle first, after all.

"Well, if I can't meet your commanding officer, I at least want to know where you got all this information from."

After some indefinite amount of time, Tyler stands from his chair and shines a light grin. "Funny you should ask me that, and I'm glad you did," he says. "The person who told me everything happens to be waiting at the back of my car. I'll go grab her for you." He saunters out the door promptly, leaving me and Rain waiting in our seats.

'Her'? He couldn't mean…

Tyler reenters the dojo, and I get up to see past the door. He makes his way back to the dining room, ushering someone inside. From the pitch black of the night, an old face enters this sacred building. And along with her, a torrent of memories crashing down on me, flooding into my brain. Pleasant recollections of a time gone by. A time I occasionally wish would return. Her red fur, her cobalt eyes, her canine ears, her gracious tail and her bright disposition are still intact from when I last saw her.

Upon her entry, the dojo goes silent for a second time. Once again, Weiss and Kitsune drop their duties and approach this person. Weiss leaps at her for an embrace, while Kitsune remains at the side, more reserved compared to her great granddaughter. Their joyous proclamation spreads across the place, reaching all of our ears.

"Great Nan Miriam!"

"Mother?"

I seat the words deeply in the depths of my mind. I am at a loss for words. I'm too stunned by the sight before my eyes to even twitch. My heart skips multiple beats, and my breath has seemingly stopped.

"What have we got here? This ain't a dojo, it's a freaking madhouse. Had I known, I'd have slipped into something more appropriate and dropped on by. Don't let outward appearances fool you, I'm still fit as a fiddle." She chuckles at her statement, and so do Weiss and Kit. It seems that her energy, her spirit, hasn't left her. "I'm guessing you've been helping out with cleaning up, right?"

"Yup." Weiss nods her head, Kitsune rustling it affectionately from behind.

And then, she draws closer to where I stand. For the first time in so long, she and I are face to face. Her eyes fall upon mine, and she is as taken as I am. The world around us stands perfectly still. Our heartbeats become one at this very moment. Neither of us move nor utter a peep. We focus only on each other, taking in every little detail. She's my friend. My best friend.

Eventually, her mouth moves. The silence is broken.

"Woo Foo Grandmaster Yo," she speaks gently, with a pining, a yearning spanning an entire lifetime.

I flinch for a second, but I hold my ground and nod. "Woo Foo Master Miriam." Saying that very name imparts a sweet, nectarous pang on my tongue. A warm, tender tinge on my soul. I keep steady and savor the feeling, savor this juncture.

Slowly, she brings a fist into the palm of her other hand and bows in a wide arc. "Long time no see. An honor to meet you again."

I repeat the gesture, lowering my voice to her level. "Likewise."

After holding our posture for ten or so seconds, Miriam looks up at me and cracks that smile I've seen so much of. That infectious smile that swells with spirit.

"Oh, enough with the pleasantries. Come here, you overgrown lug," she declares jubilantly, approaching me with open arms. Acting more like the lively, upbeat and energetic vulpine I know all too well, her contagious elation working into my system.

Miriam and I meet in an embrace, and she giggles, putting her heart into it. I laugh along with her, the two of us overcome with joy. Even at an old age, her spirit, her flair for life, has not diminished. The mere appearance of her is all that's needed to brighten up any situation, and it has not changed since last I saw her.

I still can't believe it. One of my oldest friends, one of my comrades-in-arms, is alive and kicking. And here we both are, after so many years apart. It might not have been of my own choosing, but being wrapped in her arms makes me feel rather guilty for forgetting about her. About my wife. My wives. Without even an inkling to revisit my past life, regardless of how it may hurt. Some friend I am.

About a minute in of just hugging each other tightly, she pulls away, sniffles and wipes the corner of her eye. "Sorry about that," she remarks, trying to contain her emotions. After she gets them under wraps, she grabs hold of my arms and inspects my entire person. "Look at you. Oh my goodness, you've changed. Erm…" She hesitates when she sees the saggy sack I call a stomach, her smile wavering and reappearing. "You still look fantastic in my book." She pats the gut in an affectionate fashion.

"Gee, thanks," I say dryly, knowing her intention to be pure. I hold one of her paws, taking my turn to inspect her. "Seems you've aged gracefully yourself." I chuckle, meaning it both as a tease and a compliment.

"I have my ways," says Miriam with a sly tongue.

She's about to go further, but Tyler clears his throat to cut the chatter short. He's been leaning on the wall this whole time, watching us with an amused look on his face. He knew this was coming. Miriam had told him what he needed to know and more. He came to her, his ancestor, and it led him to me. And that, in turn,led Miriam and I back together.

"Great Nan, I hate to interrupt this heartfelt reunion, but we should really get down to business now," he says, slightly amused moving away from the wall. His hands tucked in his pockets.

The four of us move to the dining table, where we each take a chair to sit on and discuss the situation some more. The photographs are still laid out, scattered, on the table, and Miriam picks one of them up and inspects it for what I'm sure is not the first time. She's been in the loop longer than me, and naturally knows more of it than I do.

But she and the other Pioneers had perceived me a leader, thinking I had the qualities of one. I can't say I disagree; Woo Foo makes up a majority of my life, so there weren't any surprises there. That is why she sent Tyler to see me. And that is why I have to take a stand.

"I'm flattered that you came to me, you two," I comment, folding my arms. Staring long and hard at the photographs. "Is there anything else I can do to help out?"

"We should be fine, thanks," says Rain, resting her head against her paws. "We have everything we need. Just tell us what course of action you would take in this situation."

My answer to the query is simple. I advise both Rain and Tyler to keep an eye on this person at all times, as well as to be on the lookout for any hotspots with a heavy volume of Fog. Knowing what the stuff can do to a person, I expect that he'll make his way to these places to gather even more of it.

"So what does your CO want with this guy anyway?" I ask, dropping the picture back on the table. "Were you asked to apprehend him? Or are you supposed to take him out?" If they're as equipped as they say they are, I shouldn't have any reason to doubt them any further.

"He needs him alive," answers Tyler. "Says that there are more of him out there, and if we don't act as soon as possible, then they'll pose a significant threat."

That, I don't disagree with.

Fog has ruined as many lives as the Infernal Beast. Death is often seen as a more desirable choice compared to being influenced by it, and I am not surprised.

The deadliest drug in the world can't even dare to match the effects this filth has had. Not only on the fools who invoke its power, but on the innocents who have suffered as a result. I have seen stories of it in every archive, every book and scroll in Woo Foo recorded, and I have seen it firsthand. Redemption is a blessing that a few such people who sought out this wretched substance can get, and my two sons, Yang and Lupin, are among that lucky minority. The rest of them have suffered consequences that are almost irreversible.

Actually, no. There is one other person fortunate enough to be saved – Maria. My companion, my late wife, another one of the Pioneer. Often dubbed the strongest amongst the four of us. She has a much better understanding of Fog than anyone in our band. She'd most likely know more about the situation. If she were still here, she'd tell these two what to do and how to do it.

"Guess we're good to go," says Rain, staying frank and straight to the point. Making no bones about anything. "Thanks, Yo."

"That's Grandmaster Yo to you, junior," I reply. "Anyway, you guys sure you don't need an extra pair of hands?" I attempt again.

"We'll be fine. If something new comes up, then we'll make sure you're the first person we take it up to," adds Tyler, his resolve a gleaming fire in his eyes. "And no disrespect, but we don't want you to overwork yourself." I know he means well, but I'm still a little disappointed, not to mention insulted.

"Alright, then. Have it your way." I shrug at them

Ten seconds of silence fleet by, and Rain stands from her chair. When Tyler asks what the problem is, her answer is that they have what they came for. That the two of them should simply wait somewhere. Outside in his car, or just at the living room. Anywhere, it doesn't matter. As long as Miriam and I are alone. It doesn't occur to me until after I do a double take, but Tyler figures it out right away.

Realizing this, I laugh lightly and nod at Rain as a sign of thanks. She and Tyler stride out of the dining area, heading to another part of the dojo. Leaving me and my vulpine friend to ourselves, to share some idle chatter about banal—and not so banal—topics.

"Some family tree you've got, Mimi," I remark, smirking. One leg crossed over the other under the table. "Must be pretty proud of yourself."

"I'll say. They're good kids, Weiss and Tyler. You'd know how it feels, checkerboard," she says, and I think about my own children. About the pride I have in them.

Maria must have been watching over me this whole time, smiling. Wherever Selene may be, she'd be happy too at how the twins turned out. It gets me to smile and chuckle.

"What?" asks Miriam as she mirrors my grin.

"Nothing. 'Checkerboard'. I can't remember the last time someone called me that. Do you?"

"Haven't got a clue. Probably around the same time you last called me 'Mimi'."

I rest my elbow on the table and my head atop my knuckles. "It's a shame that those two won't let us do anything else other than sit by. Sure would be nice to see some action again, for old times' sake."

"Maybe, but y'know, Tyler does have a point. You've been through so much, Yo, and getting overworked isn't helping you any. Besides, there are other ways to enjoy someone's company."

"Like what?"

She rises from her seat and peers at the kitchen behind me, heading towards that direction.

There, Miriam offers to make some tea for the both of us, to which I oblige plainly. A pillar of steam ascends from the kettle in a whistle, water bubbling audibly from inside. From her pocket, she fishes out a bunch of leaves and crushes them in the palm of her paw. She pops them into the kettle, and out of the spout comes a deep green stream, flowing into a pair of mugs she had taken out of the cupboard.

Our conversation continues in the midst of all this. We explain to each other the current state of our respective lives. In the time that she has been away from me, she's gotten into a number of artistic endeavors, namely pottery and fashion. The latter, in particular, has been a passion of hers since our teenage years.

I, on the other hand, let her in on my 'private stash'. She disconcertedly confuses the term for a, um…porn stash—seriously, where the hell did that come from?—when really I'm referring to a wine collection I've secretly kept in the Armory downstairs. As soon as a single word about it comes out, Miriam's fascination grows a hundred fold, asking me questions such as 'what brand', 'how much', 'how did I get it' and the like.

Back at the table, we indulge in the warm, enriching taste of ginseng. The tea flows down my throat and spreads across my body, flushing my soul out of any impurities. Drawing a sigh out of my mouth.

She and I talk some more over our drink, the initial elation wearing off. For me, not for her. Miriam makes a passing comment of how it brings back ten years. I, however, have a new thought brewing in my head. One that has been waiting there, waiting to be mentioned, taking its toll on me as it did. It's a long time coming, but better to get it out in the open now than not at all.

"Isn't this nice, Yo? The two of us, having tea in the middle of the night?"

I sigh, counting my breaths, inhaling the ginseng. "Miriam?" The name goes unregistered, unnoticed.

"Sure I could have brought some honey over, but there's really no need."

"Miriam."

"Next time, I'll bring over some booze. And not just ordinary booze, but the finest red wine anyone can get their hands on. We're talking grown from a vineyard and squeezed from the best grapes ever. You're going to love it, I assur—"

"Miriam!" I raise my voice that time, and she stops gabbing. She faces me, her smile fading away as I put a hand over hers. "I know."

"Huh?"

"I know what you did and why you did it." The statement gets her to quiet herself. She isn't exactly the type to hold still, so the fact that she's doing so now means she's aware of what I'm talking about. Its importance.

"Are you mad?" Miriam asks cautiously, bringing her arms close to her bosom protectively. Her features are softer now, afraid of the response she'll receive.

I ponder on this—on her weary eyes, her ajar mouth, the desperation in her question—before shaking my head at her and gently flashing a smile at her.

Miriam sways her face away from me, her mouth quivering. I perch a hand on her lap so that she can see me. So that she knows that there is no ill will whatsoever. So I can say to her squarely…

"Thank you." It's no surprise that she finds my saying that confusing, so I continue in order to clear it out. "Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for taking away the pain. I can imagine how hard it was for you to have to do it."

Friendships are built on many foundations, and sacrifices are one of them. In erasing the hurt of losing my beloved that has eaten away at me, in trying to pull me out of my despair, Miriam risked also erasing herself from my memory. Both her and Selene. This is a sacrifice that no other person would make. An act of selflessness that must be treasured.

As far as I can see, their sacrifice did not go in vain. I'm alive because of them. This world works in a very strange way, but I don't question it. Not when these events have eventually brought us back after so long.

"Which is why I swear to face the pain for as long as I live. Everything I do, every mistake I make, I'm going to live with them. I won't have you make that sacrifice ever again."

Taking my words to heart, Miriam wipes her eye and sniffles. She cracks a smile, which looks even better on her now than it did a while ago.

"You always were the best of us, checkerboard," she replies, her smile wavering slightly. "Even Mary said so herself."

"Did she, now?"

"You'd best believe it." She resumes with her tea, forgetting how scorching hot it is. Burning her tongue and her lips in the process. "Yeowch!"

"Here." I pass her a glass of water after chuckling at her misfortune. She downs the whole thing, exhaling heavily. "You alright?" She nods her head at me.

Weiss and Kitsune enter the dining room with their brooms in their hands, the cleaning done and dusted according to them. They tell us they're ready to go, and Miriam stands up and finishes the last few drops of her tea. She bids me farewell as the three of them stride out the door, Weiss moving, skipping, faster than her elders.

I'm joined by Lupin and Noah, the latter also calling it a night and making his exit out the door. On his way across the front yard, he puts his biker's helmet on him. Lupin and I watch our friends leave, the fox family in their trusty station wagon and Noah in his motorcycle.

After they've gone, I pick up the slack and take the cleaning supplies into my hand, about to put them back where they came from. I decline Lupin's offer to help and advise him to get some shut eye. Still he insists, but I assure him that I'll be fine. I hear his footsteps as he ascends the stairs and proceeds to his room.

The dojo is soon quiet, with me the only one wide awake. I go ahead and put away every broom, mop and cloth. As I'm heading up the stairs about to get some sleep, I ponder on the astonishing turn of events of the night.

Although I'm beyond ecstatic to know she's alive and well, Miriam showing up after years, decades, of going into hiding can't be anything short of a coincidence. I can feel it in my gut, in my chest. Things happen for a reason, and her reappearance into my life is no different.

In my room, I huddle into my bed, tucking myself into my sheets. Another thought dawns in my head. I hear Tyler's and Miriam's voices repeating something they told me a while ago. Something about not worrying myself and letting someone else handle the problem. How I've endured so much and I shouldn't overwork myself.

For as long as I can remember, people have given these advices to me. They know how tied I am to my responsibility as a Woo Foo Knight. They know my devotion, my dedication, to my cause. Yet, their words have always gone unheeded. They've always fallen on deaf ears. And even after the exhaustion, the fatigue—physical, mental and spiritual—catch up with me, I stubbornly ignore these signs, too.

I should listen, for a change. To these signs, to these advices. It's about time that I did. Lord knows I'm not getting any younger.

Maybe. Just maybe…