The temple was not usually dark. It did not have lightbulbs, (which Kimiko and Raimundo had complained about when they first arrived) but it had windows that let in the light of the sun. And when the moon was up, there were lanterns and candles. Which weren't nearly as bright as lightbulbs (or so Omi had heard), but at least they let you see where you were going.

The entrance hall of the temple was dark. All of the lanterns were blown out. And although Omi had grown up used to walking around in dim lighting, he realized it would be dangerous for him to simply walk around here. The light coming through the entrance did not even extend halfway down the hall, as though the gloom was an impenetrable wall.

Omi had never been afraid of the dark. The dark was no obstacle to him at all. It was what he found in the dark that was scary. Like squirrels, or girls who had crushed his shoulder the last time he had seen them. But he understood that turning back was not a good option either, so he proceeded on, dots glowing on his forehead almost as an afterthought.

Kimiko wasn't in the entrance hall. Nor was she in any of the nearby meditation rooms, or the dining hall, or the kitchen, all of which were dark as well. Omi eventually found her sitting in the corner of the library, which seemed the darkest of all. He would have passed her over entirely had she not called out, "Who's there?"

"It is I," Omi replied, his dots eventually shining down on Kimiko. She winced and put an arm over her eyes. There were bruises forming on her knees, because not everybody was so fortunate as to have a glowing forehead. As her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she scowled.

"Whaddya want? If you're gonna tell me to come back out, you might as well turn around."

In this small corner of the library, filled with more dust than books, Omi hesitated. The expression on Kimiko's face was always the expression he associated with very angry punches, which usually came after he said something. He was half-tempted – no, fully tempted to say nothing and just leave before anything bad happened to things other than his still-stinging shoulder. Instead, he bowed his head.

"I have come because Raimundo told me to apologize."

"Did he now." Kimiko's tone did not worry Omi, but only because he was preoccupied with other worries. He continued on.

"Yes. I am most sorry for what I have said. I did not mean to upset you."

Kimiko only rested her chin on her knees. Even as Omi straightened up, expecting a response, she said nothing. The light from Omi's head only cast shadows on her face, making her expression unknowable. When the silence had stretched on long enough, the short monk shifted his feet and said, "Ah…did you hear me…?"

"Yeah." Kimiko's voice was muffled, but only slightly. "You can leave now."

"Well, I was hoping that you would be leaving with me. I believe that is what the others were hoping as well."

"Too bad."

Omi liked to think of himself as an understanding person. Granted, he always liked to think of himself with every good quality imaginable, but it was true that he at least tried to see the good in every situation and in everybody. But his disciplined lifestyle made him unable to tolerate certain things. Such as people shirking their duties.

Now crossing his arms, forgetting any previous fear, dropping all pretense of an apologetic demeanor, Omi said, "I must say, Kimiko, this is highly irresponsible of you. To walk out of a training session is already most disrespectful, but to then – "

When Kimiko's head snapped up, eyes brimming with liquid fury, Omi swallowed his words. And when she stood up, back straight and shoulders squared, so that she loomed over him, he took a step back. "Oh, you wanna talk disrespectful, huh? You could stand to look in the mirror, Omi – you're the perfect definition of 'disrespectful!'"

Omi's chiding bravado was sucked away and replaced with a mixture of confusion, self-doubt, and indignation. Never a good combination. Unsure if he was trying to ask a question or state a fact, Omi said, "I do not understand – "

"Yeah, you don't!" she shouted, emphasizing the exclamation by poking a finger at Omi's head. "And that's what's so frustrating!" The air itself responded to Kimiko's outburst, pulsing outward and stirring up dust. Omi had to take another step back to steady himself against the wind. When it died down, he saw that Kimiko had turned her back to him.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I know that you don't mean anything. You've never even seen a girl before I came here. And two years ago, I could tolerate it…but that was two years ago. I can't take it anymore."

"Take…what, exactly?"

Omi's suspicions that this might have not been the right thing to say only rose when Kimiko didn't even turn to acknowledge his question. The dust started to settle, and he tried not to sneeze.

"…I can't take you singling me out all the time."

As though that one sentence had taken all of her energy to say, Kimiko slumped, leaning her head on the nearby shelves. Her hands unclenched. She hadn't even realized she was clenching them. Her voice getting even quieter, almost a whisper, she continued, "For being…a girl."

Omi's indignation vanished, but his confusion only intensified. However, he knew that he was somehow the source of Kimiko's strife, and although he was not quite sure whether he could justifiably be blamed, he knew that those feelings of pain were there. And that's all that mattered.

"Is this about what I had said to you outside?" he asked, stepping closer. Shadows moved wildly as he did so, away from Kimiko as he bathed her back in light. "I assure you, it has nothing to do with you being a girl."

Kimiko finally glanced at him, but it was only a small tilt of the head. Omi wasn't sure whether this meant he was moving in the right direction or not. "Oh yeah? What does it have to do with, then?"

"You see," Omi said, deciding to be optimistic, "I was not saying that you were worse than me. I was only saying that I was better than you!" He paused as soon as he said this. For some reason, this did not sound as good out loud as it did in his head.

"What about the others?" Kimiko asked, still not turning around. "Are you better than them?"

If she had asked him a week ago, Omi would have immediately said yes. It would have seemed so simple a question. He was the youngest of the four, but he was also the most skilled. They all had skills of their own, of course, but those were skills that didn't matter, even if they were interesting in their novelty. Technology did not trump years of intense training. Whittling and soccer and surfing did not replace fighting skills. It was just natural that the other monks were inferior. Although he had never thought of it as that. He just thought of it as him being better.

But then Raimundo became leader and he had been upset, sure, because who wouldn't be after being raised to believe that this was supposed to be for him, the culmination of his work, his accomplishments, his life. When he had turned from the Chosen One to a Chosen One, he had only managed to continue on with the thought that he would at least be the leader of the Chosen Ones.

And then Raimundo became leader and there was nothing left.

And at the same time, he realized that he had been wrong all along. That he had been foolish to judge a person's worth by only fighting prowess and titles. That it was wrong to think that his friends' skills were worthless just because he had never found much use for them. And, in fact, it was just wrong to think of human beings in terms of worth in the first place. Raimundo wasn't made a worthier person just by becoming leader – it was just that he was he was the most worthy for the position of leader. And Omi's own fighting prowess didn't make him any worthier than anybody else. And that he failed in becoming leader didn't make him less worthy either. In that moment, Omi had felt that all of his life had been leading to this realization.

He was still in the middle of struggling with it, though. It felt as though he knew what he had realized, but he couldn't put it into the words that he needed in order to know what he was thinking. And now Kimiko was asking him to put the thoughts that he had no words for into words.

"When I say that I am better than someone, I do not mean that I am better than them, but that I am better…ah…" Omi rubbed his head. That didn't sound right either. "You see…I am not better than you, but I am better at fighting!" Close enough.

Kimiko turned slightly, half her face shrouded in shadow. From what Omi could see, her expression wasn't anger at all, but…something more morose. "So…why can you fight better than Clay?"

"That is very easy to answer. Clay is large and slow, while I am smaller and faster. Even if he catches me with his rope, I have ways of getting out of it."

"Why can you fight better than Raimundo?"

"Because although he has improved greatly since his arrival, he is still rather undisciplined. I also happen to have years of training and experience. Any sort of crafty trickery he may try can likely be countered by my tiger instincts."

"And why can you fight better than me?"

"Because you're a – "

He stopped, but the unsaid word still drifted in the air between them, twisting grotesquely in its non-existence. Kimiko's eyes, surprisingly enough, did not flare. Her face did not even twitch.

"Go ahead. Say it."

Omi stayed silent.

"Say it!" She whirled around, staring the young boy down, eyes filled with tears and a strange sort of desperation. Her voice echoed within the library walls until it was only a sad remnant of what it once was – and then it wasn't even that. "It's because I'm a girl. It's because I'm naturally weak. I'm not meant for fighting. I should be at home, where I learn how to stay there the rest of my life, cleaning up after the men while they go out and actually do something. Women should be seen, not heard. They shouldn't run or they'll get hurt. I'll never be able to compete against a guy because girls just can't compete against guys. When a guy makes a mistake, it's 'cause mistakes happen but when a girl makes a mistake, it's 'cause she's a girl, of course she couldn't do it, she shouldn't have even tried."

The sheer emotion in her words overwhelmed Omi, engulfed and confused him, muddled his thoughts. She spoke with a voice that wasn't hers, the voice of past memories. Around this voice, Omi's sympathy and his beliefs crashed together in a violent hurricane. He felt the bitterness and pain in that voice, simmering anger and resentment and resigned acceptance and uncontrollable resistance and the guilt of being unable to prove people wrong. He felt it and he understood and at the same time he didn't because…well…

…Wasn't it true? That girls and boys were different, they grew up different, were suited for different things?

"Kimiko, I know that it is hard to accept, but one must be aware of the things they simply cannot do."

In the dim light, Kimiko narrowed her eyes. She wiped at her tears, careful to use her hands rather than her sleeve. "I knew you couldn't understand."

"Perhaps if we talked more – "

"No. You can't understand." She looked away, her eyes dully reflecting the light. "You're too young."

"What!" Omi's hurricane of contrasting feelings suddenly fused together and turned into outright fury. "How can you say that? I'm not that much younger than you! And in any case, being young does not affect my ability to understand!" The light emitting from his dots shook around as he animatedly explained his point with his arms. "I have experienced things that many children my age will never experience! I have trained my entire life to fight for the balance of good and evil! I have fought Wuya, Chase Young, and Hannibal Bean, and at one point, I was turned into a cat! My age is irrelevant! To disregard the sum of my experience based on my age is…is…"

"Yeah, it sucks, doesn't it."

Omi's arms dropped to his sides once more. And as he stared at Kimiko, everything seemed clear.

It had been about gender all along. He only just convinced himself that it wasn't.

The thought that he was not in control of his own thoughts and beliefs was unnerving. What else did he just take for granted without question? Which "facts" were true and which ones were the products of something sinister within him? It seemed he would have to schedule a very long meditation upon this new realization on top of the other realization.

Kimiko was looking at him again, hugging herself while looking defiant while looking unsure about how he was going to react. And the worst part of it was that he still didn't understand, and he knew it. He could probably never fully understand. Get the idea, yes, but never understand.

"I'm sorry," he said, because it was the first thing he could think to say. The second thing was, "You are very strong and smart. I mean that from the very ends of my heart."

Kimiko gave him a small, wan smile. "Thanks, but you don't need to sweet talk me back out. I…I already know I can't do it on my own. I'm not…good enough."

And with that, she strode past him, hand trailing on the shelves. Omi watched her get engulfed in the darkness, trying to figure out what to say. After a moment, Kimiko called back, "C'mon, Omi, I can't make my own light anymore." And so he hurried ahead, careful not to trip as his dots only illuminated a small area in front of his feet.

The two of them were soon out of the stiflingly dark library and as they headed down the shadowed hallways, Omi said, "You know, you have great compassion."

Kimiko glanced down at him, mouth quirked in a skeptical grimace. "I guess…?"

"And you are very light and acrobatic! That requires stamina, as well as very developed muscles. And you are most perceptive about those around you. I believe that is called being a 'person of the people?'"

"People person," Kimiko corrected, struggling to hold back a genuine smile, the first he had seen on her today. He felt a grin spread on his face as well and pressed on.

"You are a very good problem solver and you pursue what is unknown to you. And you are very knowledgeable about technology!"

"Aw c'mon." Kimiko waved a hand and modestly looked away. "That's not so special."

"Perhaps, but Raimundo couldn't tell me how cameras worked. He did not explain about properties of light and lenses and…stuff!" Honestly, the vocabulary that Kimiko had used flew right over Omi's head. But the way her eyes lit up whenever she explained something just made her radiate pure, contagious enthusiasm. Omi loved the way she loved technology and gadgets and her infinite patience when he asked what this was, how that worked, how any of these were possible without magic. And it was important for her to know about this, about everything he was saying. Because…because…

Omi held on to Kimiko's sleeve, forcing her to stop walking. "You can do so many things, and know so many things…so you are not a failure if you need help to do this one thing.

"And in any case," he continued, tightening his grip, talking a little faster, "I need your help as well. S-so if you think you're a failure, then…then we can be failures together."

The hard part was done. Omi let go of Kimiko and just stared downward, fighting off the sense of shame that he knew he really shouldn't feel. Because he could do things and knew things too and there wasn't any shame in being unable to do or know everything…

But even when he knew something it didn't change how he felt.

Kimiko knelt down and wrapped her arms around him. And they stayed that way for what felt like a long time, heads on resting on shoulders, staying silent because words would just be noise. And with a final squeeze, she let go. Then with a faint smile, she said, "You're afraid of getting burned."

Omi instinctively prickled at the thought but once again swallowed down what he knew to be the wrong reaction. "How do you know?"

"You flinch when you try it, and when you flinch, you lose control. Then you set fire to yourself. Also," Kimiko added with a kind smirk, "you didn't try to relight the lanterns when you came in."

"Oh."

Kimiko patted Omi on the shoulder twice, then got on her feet and straightened up. "It's easy to lose focus when you're worried about getting burned. You don't feel like you can control it, right? At least not as well as with the Cat's Eye Draco."

"Fire is much more wild than water," Omi admitted. "It feels like it is fighting out of my grasp…"

Arms akimbo, Kimiko tried her best drillmaster stare. "First lesson: you are in control. You'll only screw up if you think you're screwing up, and you'll only burn yourself if you think you will. Be confident, alright?" Omi's expression looked much too serious and uncertain. On instinct, Kimiko affectionately rubbed the top of his head, as though ruffling non-existent hair. "Trust me, if you don't want to burn something, you won't. Not as long as you trust yourself. Okay?"

"If you say so," Omi replied, trying not to look at his singed sleeves.

"Look, let's try it out. Why don't you just make a small flame in your hand? Just a little one – you don't even have to throw it."

"Like this?" Holding out an open hand, Omi flinched as a spark ignited into a flame that floated above his palm. Kimiko nodded and raised a hand of her own. At first, Omi wasn't sure what she was doing, but when she started to move her neatly manicured nails to the fire, (the burning fire the raging fire the ravenous fire hungry for anything it could consume) he instantly wrenched his hand away, closing it in a fist and snuffing out the flame.

"What are you doing?" he demanded with a quaver. Kimiko had flinched her hand away when Omi made his sudden movement, but she looked calm. Grim, even, as though she had expected this to happen.

"You have to see that you're in control, Omi. You can make it so the fire keeps going without hurting me." With kind hands, she gently reached for Omi's arm, but he stepped back. With a sigh that was more morose than exasperated, Kimiko said, "Look. You don't want to burn me, right?"

"No, I don't! That is why I moved away from you!"

"If you don't want to burn me, then you won't burn me. You don't have to be afraid, okay? You're the one with the reins."

Still, Omi hesitated. Because it was one thing to say that he was in control, but it was another to plunge your hand into an open flame. Seeing the concern on his face, Kimiko tried to smile. "You don't have to worry about me. I've handled burns before. In any case, I trust you. So let's try again, okay?"

This time, when Kimiko reached out, he didn't pull away. His arm was limp as she turned his hand over, and it remained so even as he ignited the air with only a thought. Kimiko kept a grip on his wrist, as though worried he would pull away again and thus ruin this exercise of control and trust. And to be fair, he probably would.

When Kimiko started reaching towards the flame again, Omi turned his head away. "You have to look," she said. "If you can't see it, then it's not going to work." And that made an unfortunate amount of sense, so Omi stared at his hand and the flame and Kimiko's hand, forcing his eyes to stay open.

His hand started to tense, which caused the flame to flicker. Kimiko's was getting close, closer and closer, much too close, way too close, and he didn't want to burn her, he really didn't, and he wasn't going to let it happen.

Kimiko slid her hand into the flame, except the flame wasn't where it was. It curved around her hand instead, dodging it by burning at an impossible angle. Omi couldn't help but grin, light flickering in his eyes, as he saw the ribbon of fire twist away. Kimiko let go of his wrist and just moved her hand around and they watched as the flame danced around it, ducking and weaving, even slipping through her fingers once the two of them got bold enough to try something riskier.

And then Kimiko finally pulled her hand away, warm but unscathed. Omi no longer had a look of wary suspicion and fear but one of thankful confidence. Kimiko stood back and smiled. "See? It's okay. Sure, you have to be careful, but it's not like it's some wild beast."

Omi let the ribbon of fire make a few loops in the air before allowing it to burn out. "Fire…is a lot more like water than I thought."

"I'll take your word for it. So Omi, do you mind…?" Kimiko jabbed a finger towards the dark lanterns. Instantly getting the idea, Omi sent up a flare that zoomed around and lit the wicks. The gloom of the hall lifted and the temple once again took on the warm, calming atmosphere that the monks were used to. The gloom had lifted from the minds of the two monks as well, and they walked through the temple with cheerful chatter peppered with some fire-related advice from Kimiko. The question of whether their chi would get back in order was still in their minds, but it seemed almost an insignificant problem now. Something to focus on later.

When Omi and Kimiko exited the temple, they didn't exactly find Clay and Raimundo waiting for them. The two boys were still outside, but they were certainly more focused on training dummies than the door. As the newly-emerged monks descended the stairs, Raimundo made a diving elbow drop onto the ground, which didn't stop his descent but instead yielded to his weight. In front of him, the ground under the dummy was pushed up, as though pivoting on a fulcrum, and the dummy itself catapulted all the way across the temple grounds, where it subsequently bounced off a wall.

"I see you guys got some training done," Kimiko said, quirking an eyebrow at the section of earth that now looked like a seesaw. Clay pulled Raimundo out of the deep hole he had made. Once he was back on ground level, the Brazilian approached the other two, green eyes flashing with excitement.

"Oh, you don't even know, I just thought of all these cool moves I can do, right? Like that thing I just did – okay wait, sorry, almost forgot." And here, Raimundo ran back towards Clay, who had stayed back near the improvised seesaw. Pushing the cowboy from behind, Raimundo said, "Our buddy Clay's got something to say." And with two claps on his shoulders, he gave the floor over to the quiet Texan. Omi and Kimiko turned their gazes towards him.

He shuffled his feet and coughed, as though waiting for Raimundo to take the floor back, but when it was clear that wasn't happening, he squared his shoulders and said, "We haven't been trainin' th' right way. I think."

"No 'I think' about it, he really nailed this." The juxtaposition between Raimundo's beaming face and Clay's more didactic expression only made the pitch odder. It was sort of like the 'Good Cop Bad Cop' duo, but instead of cops, they were salesmen and instead of good and bad, they were…well, maybe that still worked out.

Omi looked up at Clay, his face starting to form the Look again. "Does that mean…my manner of teaching was not helpful?"

"Parts of it were," Clay replied in an uncomfortably honest tone. "But we were thinkin' 'bout this whole thing th' wrong way."

"Yeah, it's gonna blow your mind." In second-hand embarrassment, Clay shoved Raimundo off of his shoulder. Kimiko, not one with patience for a good build-up, just rolled her eyes.

"Alright already, lay it on us. What's this 'mind-blowing solution' or whatever?"

"Y'see…" Clay sniffed in the way that a car mechanic did before laying down the bill. "We were all hung up on fightin' like each other when we already know how to fight. An' th' problem with tryin' t' fight like each other is we've all got diff'rent body types, weights, muscle memory, all that stuff. So th' more efficient way would prolly be t' jus' fight like us. Only, y'know." He shrugged. "After learnin' what's important t' know fer th' diff'rent element."

"Like 'don't make fissures,'" Raimundo added, still beaming widely as he glanced at the giant seesaw sticking out of the ground.

Both Omi and Kimiko were silent for a moment. Clay watched them uneasily.

"Ah, I see! So with your large physique and lack of training, you obviously would not be able to perform my moves! So that is what you mean." There was no shoddily hidden jealousy or resentment on Omi's part. Just an enthusiastic understanding.

"That's…surprisingly simple," Kimiko said, raising a hand to her chin. Her expression was thoughtfully impressed.

"Simple solutions," Raimundo said, giving Clay a nudge. "Just what you'd expect from a simple guy like – wait that doesn't sound right."

Before Raimundo could think of a better way to word his thought, Omi stepped towards Clay with open arms and an eager face. "Shall we start over then? If we have gotten off on the wrong foot, I would very much like to get on the right one."

Clay grinned. It was a grin full of relief and happiness and thankfulness that the past hadn't yet repeated. But mostly it was a grin full of playful smugness directed towards Raimundo. "Yeah, sure. But I reckon someone's gotta get that dummy back."

Raimundo blinked, then turned his head towards where the training dummy had fallen – all the way on the other side of the temple grounds. With a sigh that was laden with the burden of the universe itself, he said, "Fine."