Okay. This one's a little more eventful than the last.


Kitsune

"Nana! You home?"

"In the shower, Weiss!"

Alone in my room. Lying down on my bed. Hands clasped together, eyes glued to the ceiling. The blank white. Refusing to look at the room itself. The sidetable, the closet, the antique telephone. The pictures on the wall, to be more precise. My tail curled around my waist. Wagging. Sleuthing for something that's half-way interesting. The little lie falls off my lips; I was planning on taking a shower. Only to be held back by many…well, one thing. Restraining me from bringing myself to do the things I need to. Like a pair of handcuffs or a chain and ball. Or pinned against a stone wall by a set of shackles.

About time I brought my rear end up. The bathroom was just behind me. I enter it, the door squealing and squeaking. The wall bringing it to a halt. Tiles of equal size cemented together, showing very faint reflections. On my left, the shower door. I slide it open, removing every piece of clothing on me. Leaving them dangling on the rack, entering afterwards. The water runs, the high temperature biting through my fur, my skin. Drenching them. Rinsing away the world as I come closer, closing my eyes to the hard and calming stream.

Though…I am not relaxed. The things I thought I could escape from. The thoughts that stir, those that I don't want to ponder on. They remain.

Lupin. The wolf. The one that always stayed by my side. The only one I'd pour my heart and soul out to. His beautiful face, his kindness and compassion. The tender smile he radiates to me. Those traits hidden beneath the fighter's exterior. I can already see them. All the words in every language. Je t'aime. Te quiero. Te amo. Mahal kita. Ich liebe dich. Aishiteru. I love you. None of them… None of them are sufficient. None of them are enough. No form of action makes the cut, either. These emotions I feel. They are a novel. Something I want to bring out to the open, but the most difficult task I can do.

My suspicions were correct. Lupin has been alive. All these years. For one hundred years. Remaining as what he was. Retaining his youth. An old coot in a teenager's body. Having escaped the Pit, breaking the Mugen Shirushi. The Infinity Seal – a feat that has only been achieved by one Woo Foo warrior so far. One century after the grand confrontation with the Night Master. A hellish conflict with me, my friend Noah and my former master Yo facing unspeakable evil. I should be happy; I did get to see him again. I should be, right? Right?

Drowning in despair, I slump to my knees.

I can't be happy. Not after what had transpired. Not after saying that word. The one word I never thought would come out of my mouth this soon. Goodbye. We had parted, Lupin and I. Bid our last adieux. He is a walking time bomb. Wherever he is, trouble and chaos aren't far behind. He didn't want to take the risk. He didn't want me nor Noah getting involved. The guilt of watching us getting hurt strong enough to pin his shoulders down. He'll go it alone. Face himself by himself. Breaking our pact, our promise. Breaking the oath he said he'd keep; we can never be together. The three of us. Not anymore. It was pointless for me to argue back. Despite my efforts. Despite me wanting to fight his battles with him. Fight by his side. Lupin is far too stubborn to let reason into his heart. Shattering mine. The last kiss he and I shared, awkward and strange to the world. Yet pleasant, sweet and painful to him. And me. I'll never be with him anymore.

How could this be happening? One by one, God is taking away everything from me. All that I have left. Leaving me to wallow in my sorrow. Just like Job in the Bible. My family is in shambles. My granddaughter is a cancer-diagnosed and depressed wreck. My great granddaughter and great grandson had endured the loss of their father. The one I love with all my heart…gone from my life.

I can do nothing. All I can do is cry. Sob my heart out. I've tried to be strong. For my family's sake. For Weiss. For Tyler. For Miriam. Keeping a firm face all the way. For so long, I've done my best to hold my ground. But this is too much. All of it. I'm a grenade about to explode. I already have, actually. The tears I've contained overflow. Dropping off my eyes. Blending with the water, slipping down into the drain. There must be something… Something I can do. That course of action. It's out there. I just need to find it.

A loud knocking. Loud enough to sound through the trickling water. The flowing and splashing. A voice follows.

"Nana!" My great grandson. Tyler. "I'm off!"

"Alright!"

Off to his night shift. His job at the most popular music shop in the city – Fermata. Selling everything related to music. Sheets, tabs, pianos, guitars, books, saxophones, a whole slew of things. His firmness shows through his voice. His calmness, his ability to fight the pain. Live another day with renewed and repaired hope. Not just him. His little sister, too. My great granddaughter, Weiss. Neither of them are bothered by shortcomings. They look forward. They press on.

Ten more minutes in. I turn the shower off. The water halts its imperishable gait. The shower door whistles open, giving way. As the canine I am, I shake my entire self off, drying my drenched body. Splattering, sprinkling water across the bathroom. Taking the towel that hang on the rack, wrapping it around me. I exit the bathroom and leave behind my used clothes; there's something else I plan on wearing.

In my closet, I scope through the options. From the cotton dresses to the shawls to the cashmere pants, one of which I take out. A gray one. And a light brown spaghetti-strapped dress to match. Not exactly what an old lady like me should be seen prancing around with. People might mistake me for someone who tries too hard. Someone who wants to stand out. I can make it work – one of my biggest strengths. One after the other, I slip in the ensemble. The undergarments coming in first, obviously. Followed by the pants and finally the shirt. Five seconds of brushing my hair, and I'm all set.

Down the stairs and into the kitchen. A certain object coming to mind. I search the pantry, shelf to shelf. Reaching up the top, feeling through the cereal containers and boxes. Really digging in. My paws feel something foreign. A wooden item. Curved and jagged. A strip of string tied to it. I pull it out and the thing unveils itself as a weapon. A bow, but without a quiver to pair with it; it's somewhere else in the house. A collapsible bow, the string tied to both ends and wobbling about – the Woo Foo Talisman, or Kami no Gofu, the Beastmaster, Gladiadora: Artemis. A bow and arrow that inflicts many effect. Either afflict with a multitude of plagues, or sedate, befriend and heal. The weapon I've held for so long. The weapon that I would only wield when the need arises; it has. My grandchildren aren't home to notice… Good.

Closing my eyes and clearing out the phlegm, I tighten my focus. A peculiar object crossing my eyes' path and staying stapled in my brain. I have to concentrate!

"Woo Foo Elders far and near! Heed my pleas and cries, loud and clear! Compassion and determination now come together! And lend me you…lend me…your…" It's no use. I can't. "Rrrgh!" The very image flashes before me. Jostling me, wanting my attention. Gaining it.

I unarm myself and put the Artemis down, allowing it to rest on the pantry door. Crouching down to pick up the item in question: a tiny medicine dispenser. Pure white plastic. This can't be my granddaughter's prescribed medicine. The pills or capsules designed to stabilize Miriam's stomach cancer. This isn't. Scan every bit of information, and you'll know. From the logo to the composition of each pill. I look down to the same tub the dispenser originally was, and see another, slightly larger. Comparing the information, taking out one pill from each. Convinced after one whiff. Painkillers. Freaking painkillers! The nerve. What audacity! My own grandchild, killing herself little by little. Trying to escape her own suffering, doing it in the most unbecoming way possible. Blazing with anger, I throw down the dispenser. Both dispensers; this is the last straw!

For once in a while, I do an unthinkable act. Screaming to the top of my lungs. My own pride. Pride in my heritage. The fact that I named my granddaughter after one of the most celebrated Woo Foo warriors in history. After my mother… Miriam, the fox.

"MIRIAM‼"

"What?"

"MIRIAM, GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE! NOW‼" My throat burned.

One century ago. In an old clinic. The scent of medicine, urinal and fecal samples, syringes, sicknesses and diligent doctors and nurses, all prevalent. Predominant. Screams and wails beyond the world echoing from the maternity ward. The voices of doctors' pushing through.

"A little more. A little more… Push! Push!"

On the bed, the Woo Foo warrior, Miriam, faced the greatest test of her life. Her masters, Ti and Chai, on one side, looking on painstakingly. Two of her friends, Yo the panda and Selene the rabbit, watching on with wracked nerves. Both holding the normally-cavalier and spirited vulpine by her hand, lending her their strength. Acting as more-than-sufficient substitutes for her husband; Makai had taken his life. Either as a threat or a prelude to his pandemonium. Or both. The latter option, the most likely one.

"Hang on, Miriam…"

"You'll be fine. I promise."

The procedure had gone on for three hours. Very close to clocking in at four. Miriam's strength was waning; she thought that there was no hope. Her eyes bloodshot and eyelids gaping at the farthest.

Fifteen minutes. Four hours. A crying was heard. Miriam sighed. No, not just a mere sigh. She tried to regain her breath, having exerted so much. Her body pained, extremities relieved. She did not mind. She did not care. Her biggest concerns: is it a boy? Is it a girl? Is it healthy? Will she grow up to be something extraordinary? Revolutionary?

The midwife neared the exhausted canine, a bundle cradled around her. Clothed wholly, save for a hooded patch. Beaming tenderly, she hands over the light load to the drained fox gently. A newborn baby must be handled with the greatest care, after all.

"Say hello to your brand new daughter."

Joined by her friends, Miriam peers through, locking eyes with her brand new child. The tiny fox pup wrapped in the soft cloth. Her breath taken away. Still neverminding her dwindling strength and stamina. Tears overcoming her eyes. Her daughter. So peaceful, so radiant. Delicate. Beautiful. No sight as precious, let alone more.

"Look at those cute little ears", Yo commented.

"What'll her name be?" Selene asked. Perplexed: the name is the most important part of the whole thing. At least to her.

Miriam's smile stayed, her mind made up. Already aware of her decision.

"She's going to be…" for suspenseful purposes, she paused briefly. "…Kitsune. My little Kitsune." Kitsune. Japanese for "fox". Hints of unoriginality abound, but Miriam did not let this possible opinion bother her. Captivated by her child's charm.

"Kitsune. Kit… Welcome to the world."

"Shh! A little lower, Yo. Poor little thing's asleep."

Then, Woo Foo Masters Ti and Chai approached. Their purposes obvious to the naked eye.

"Miriam, would you like us to—"

The fox shaked her head, still smiling and knowing their intentions. That they were going to predict, foresee, her daughter's destiny. Her suggestions opposing theirs, reflected by her constant look at the fox pup. The crying having long died, replaced by fond cooing.

"No. She's going to find out for herself. She'll know her fate when she makes it. I'll do the parent's job – watch her and nurture her. Support her cause, like any good mother would."

A mother's love. Nothing as reassuring and comforting. No other source of strength more powerful. The young Kitsune lived on with this knowledge. Valuing the love showered to her and her widowed parent's valiant tales.

How dare she? I gave her that name for a reason. I named her after my mother so that it may live on. That I may do it justice. How dare she tarnish it? Who does she think she is?

Footsteps thumped. Thudding across the stairs. Coughing echoed along, becoming the only sound once the creature had reached the bottom. Through the distance, my ungrateful granddaughter, Miriam. Wheezing and coughing indiscriminately. Annoyed. She has no right to be. I do, but only for this moment.

"What?" She exclaims towards my turned back.

My fists shake, my face scowling in anger. At the fact that my own flesh and blood is degrading herself. And will continue to without the necessary action on my part.

"Nana?" Miriam asks another, suspicious. Taking cautious steps, creeping towards my mostly still body. Extending her arm out. "Nana…?"

She lays her hand on me. My response, a vicious one – an instant backhand towards that insolent visage. That disgusting face, knocking it down along with the remainder of her body. Heralded by a feral yell. I turn a good one-eighty and stare at her, voice searing and exhaling. emotions running around. Flailing their arms about, like a pack of hyperactive children. She brought this upon herself. I didn't want to do this. But she's gone too far. She's pushed my buttons, ending up pushing the wrong one. A little farther, and… No. I melt off the very thought. My tail whips around with equal feeling.

"OW‼" She sniveled. "What the hell!" Not the words I wanted to come out of her.

I parrot the phrase, the power behind it increasing thousandfold. "'What the hell'? 'What the hell'? What do you mean 'what the hell'?‼ Huh!" I start losing it and find the painkiller dispenser by my right foot, picking it up. Showing it to her. Showing the blasted thing to her face, actually. "I found this. Lying around."

With blatant disregard, "Miriam" retorts back pathetically. And yes, those quote marks are intentional. "So?"

"So? You little shit…" I've crossed the line with that line. I've gone even further by giving her another slap, this time with my forehand. "Do you have any idea what these little buggers do to you? Do you have any damn clue how your kids are going to react when they see you gulping…" I shoved the container even closer. "THIIIIIS‼ down!"

"Bah! What is wrong with you, Nana? Get that thing away from me!"

"Shut up! My own granddaughter, a druggie! I never thought I'd see the day." I wished I wasn't surprised by this. That this was eventually going to happen. Yet…

"What's it to you? You wouldn't care. You wouldn't understand!"

"If I didn't care, I wouldn't knock you down and intimidate the living daylights out of you. I wouldn't do all this if I didn't want to try to understand. But you are making it such a pain in the ass to do!" My patience is running thin. Miriam is silenced. Infuriated. Hurt. Her eyes flooding. Calm down, Kit. Try to be rational, now. I crouch down to her, my feelings tamed and leashed. A more welcoming expression surfacing. "Why? What's gotten into you?"

She turns her head away from me. I don't really blame her. I guess slapping her twice was out of line. Out of character.

"Miriam, please. I can't help you if you don't tell me." Still, she says nothing. Leaving me with my only choice – deciphering and guessing. "Is it because Anthony's gone? Is that it?" My grandchild's deceased husband, Anthony. A brown fox of fairly muscular build. An industrious individual with no qualms for the things he's done; he preferred to confront his faults without the sickly taste and queasiness in the stomach and resolve them. His life was taken after a horrendous nighttime car accident. In an attempt to return home an intoxicated bundle of nerves. The vehicle spiraling like mad, slamming into an oncoming station wagon. Injuring all members of the unfortunate family in it. All because of money. Whether it's spent replacing our worn-out and out-of-date commodities, pampering the children with superfluous and unnecessary items or stashing it all away for safe keeping. For future purposes.

Such a petty reason. It made me sick.

Miriam closes her eyes, sobbing underneath. I've guessed right.

"I should've listened to him", she cried, displaying her anguish for the first time. Ignoring the rule she had set for herself. That weakness comes from showing emotion. "I should've seen eye to eye with him. Now…Anthony's dead. I'm such a horrible wife. Hell, Weiss and Tyler might be thinking I'm a horrible mom, too. Look at me. I'm so pathetic. You probably think I'm a horrible granddaughter huh, Nana?" She sniffled some more.

Easing her pain, comforting her, I move towards her. Stroking her face, wiping her tears away.

"Miriam…do you know why I gave you that name?" She doesn't. Why'd I have to ask that? "I named you after my mother. She was a great and powerful Woo Foo warrior. Her and her other friends as well. She lived her life the way it's meant to be. She enjoyed it. Because you'll never know when your time's up. Everything she did wrong, she didn't let them bother her. I gave you her name to honor her. To let it live on."

"A little corny, don't you think?" She retorts, having lightened up.

"My point is this isn't what you should be doing for the rest of your life. You can't just lie down in bed all the time and slowly kill yourself, taking it all out on your own kids and beating yourself up for something that isn't your fault. Yes, I mean it. Anthony…leaving isn't your fault. If he were alive, he'd be really upset to see you like this. My mother would be, too. So please…stop this for their sake. If not, then do it for your kids' sake. For your own good. I've lost my two best friends, y'know. It hurt so much. And if I were to lose my only grandchild…it'd hurt even more."

Her eyes open. The wrong question comes out. "You know what it means to lose someone?"

"Yeah. But that's a long story. Now go back up and rest. I think I've shaken you up quite a bit. Sorry 'bout that. That was so out-of-line of me."

"Okay", she nods, gradually rising back up on her feet. Turning the other way, no hints of a smile. "Um, Nana?"

"Hmm?"

"You want me to—"

"No. Just rest. Leave it all to Tyler. And don't worry, you can trust him." Still not a smile from her. Just a thoughtful look down the floor before going up the stairs.

I wait for the steps to end; she can't find out about me. Or maybe she has, considering the hints I've explained. That I've told her that my mom used to be a revered warrior. I can feel her gaze from heaven above. She must be proud of me. Or perhaps that's me being senile. Being so fixated with the past, what has happened, and staying like that. So caught up in history that the present's presence is completely ignored.

The noises cease. Miriam must've taken my word, going back to bed with it in mind. For her sake. It's about time. Sighing at this, I pick up Artemis again and strengthen my focus, reciting the incantation for a second time. Not fumbling on a syllable. Nothing else to bother.

"Woo Foo Elders far and near! Heed my pleas and cries, loud and clear! Compassion and determination now come together! And lend me your strength, the one that cannot be measured! Beastmaster! Gladiadora: Artemis!"

The weapon before me glows a bright beige and unfolds itself. The hinges churning and clipping, the string straightening. A large bow reveals itself, levitating. An artifact I've kept for safe keeping. Now put into use. I grab its body and carry it around me, safe and secure. The string sturdy and the frame itself even more durable.

That's one part I can check off.

Crouching down again in front of the pantry, I search the small tubs of medicine. Pulling out a small light yellow box. Kanji characters written on it, one on a separate face. 不死鳥の血液, or Fushicho no Ketsueki. The Blood of the Phoenix. Pills crafted by Woo Foo Elders in olden times. Another item I've taken and kept away, entrusted to me by my godparent and master, Yo. Only to be used in emergencies. Ingesting them grants the taker the finest quality known to the world. A great portion of youth is restored. Granting back the person's vigor, strength, appearance and durability. With a body as withered and worn out, wrinkled and frail as mine, this is an absolute necessity.

I flip the box open and take one, swallowing it. My body radiating in response. Glowing. Sparkling. Every joint, muscle, bone, nerve, tissue and organ in my body. My five senses. Rejuvenated, revived. The light around me fades, and I turn around to give myself an in-depth scope. My teenage body. It's mine again. How long the effect lasts doesn't matter. The awkwardness of my attire is no longer an issue, too. Good thing.

Noah… Noah the crow. My other friend. My best friend. I can't do this by myself. Not without him. Strength in numbers, and all. My cell phone, on the dining table. I pick it up and search through my contacts. Pressing the green phone button and bringing it towards my ear. Listening to the ringing tone. My face, a mask of determination. Danger lies ahead of me. I'll have to press on. We'll have to press on. A friend in need, a friend indeed.

A voice sounds through from the other side. "Hello?"

"I need your help, Noah."

"That you, Kit?"

"Mmm… It's Lupin."

"What about him?"

"Well…"

Sorry, Lupin. This time, I'm breaking the promise. I won't let you go it alone.

Three days later

Noah

A whiff of my cigarette. That's all it takes. Out on my patio, staring at the star-studded sky. Having a staring contest with the moon. I inhale the smoke, and all the unnecessary thoughts and feelings burn away. Ashes fluttering to God-knows-where. Carefully preventing my pointed beak cut the paper. Same goes with my wings, my sharp feathers.

One sigh is all it takes to remind me of the pointlessness of it all. Looking to the sky to think will make you feel like crap in the end.

Noah's the name. Just like the Biblical figure. An old retired warhorse. A black crow with obscure violet traces on his plumage. A being with nothing to value. Nothing left. A vagabond, for any of you eager ones out there. Drifting through life with no purpose, a lack of understanding. I used to be the trickster, the joker. The one who loved to poke fun at, er…well, everything, really. Irreverent and immoral, spontaneous and quite the wisecracker. The smoking, just a placebo effect to the whole appeal. You can pretty much call me the Avian version of Spike Spiegel from Cowboy Bebop. An asshole with a heart. Blessed with the two greatest friends ever, Lupin the wolf and Kitsune the fox. They're still out there. Doing what I should be doing. Making use of my life. Lupin, my rival. My source of competition. My comrade. He's escaped from his prison. His century-long torture chamber. The Pit. Perhaps he's out for revenge. Hunting for the scent of blood. That of his, our, former master, Yo. My guess is as good as anyone else's. I didn't want to believe it – a natural skeptic. That I am.

Just recently, I've received a phone call…from Kitsune. With a much younger voice; she went there, alright. An urgent one. A cry of emergency. Kitsune…she'd gone on about Lupin. That he really is alive. That he has escaped from the Pit. A troubled wreck, the guy. The fingers point towards him; not one single period of rest presents itself. Constantly blamed for the atrocities committed across town. That poor girl's sexual abuse and following demise, the prison break at BakalPrison, the murder of that grizzly bear, everything. He'd never do that. None of that.

"He can't really be alive and kicking. Can he?"

"He is. Look, I know it sounds hard to believe. In fact, I don't blame you for not believing me. But I'm telling you now, Lupin. Is. Alive."

"Even if he was, he probably must been suffering from trauma-induced amnesia or something. He might not remember us. He might not have the slightest clue of who, what and where he is."

"Noah, I know you can't be that silly. How could he forget all that? If you don't believe me, just take my word. I met him."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Wh-what? Now I know that you're bullshitting me."

"No I'm not. He was as real as you and I. He hasn't aged. He's pretty much what he was before being sealed away in the Pit."

"Oh, that's just terrific. We get wrinkles, hoarse voices and osteoporotic bones and he doesn't. That and he gets to keep his precious six-pack. Lovely!"

"Noah, focus! I. Met. Him. At the park, last week. He's all depressed that everyone in this godforsaken town're being judgmental asses and start pointing their fingers at him and blame for everything happening right now."

"Okay, let's assume that—"

"Not assume. Believe."

"Alright, alright! Lemme reword it, then! So you did meet him. Did you talk? What did he say? What did you tell him? Did he mention anything about me?"

"Yeah, we talked. I wanted to help him, but don't forget that he's stubborn. He'll settle this by himself. If you don't believe any of that, then maybe you'll believe this: he and I kissed. There, I said it."

"Oh Jesus, Mary and Joseph…"

"What?"

"A teenager and a pensioner. Mouth to mouth and tongue to tongue action. I'd rather have porn, thank you. Actually, scratch that; that was weird and downright wrong. Are you sure you're not pulling my talons?"

"No, I'm not! And I'm sick of repeating myself, damn you! He needs us! You hear me? Lupin needs us. I can't do this by myself. I can't find him without you. I need your help, Noah."

"Alright. I'll see what I can do."

One last glance at the moon, and I enter the house.

I'm welcomed by my living room – a lovely leather lounge. Leather sofa, leather chairs, leather everywhere. My fireplace just by my right, a rocking chair facing it. On it, a few of many, many trophies. All others placed in the shelf just next to my television. Trophies, framed certificates, plaques and medals. From both sanctioned and unsanctioned fighting tournaments. All gold, no silver or bronze; I'm at the top of the food chain. Reflections of my achievements as a martial artist. A virtuoso of the Assassination Art of Woo Foo. The more intricate and lethal side, emphasizing on precise and fatal strikes and overall relentlessness. Not just an Assassination style of fighting. But multiple arts as well. Shotokan Karate, Tae Kwon Do, Muay Thai Kickboxing, Aikido, Ninjitsu, Eskrima, Kalarippayattu, Mixed Martial Arts, and many others that'd take me an entire page to fill. Yet…this is nothing. This laundry list does nothing to change the fact that my life is a hole. Emptier than one. Nothing really satisfies me anymore. The little things that many would be exalted for growing even smaller to me.

But that phone call. Kitsune wouldn't lie, unless if for a prank. She'd collapse if she attempted to. Despite my inborn ability to not hastily put my faith in things, I believe her. One of the very few left. For once, my cup is full. I'm whole again. Lupin is indeed out there. I can't lose him. His unpredictability makes this even more of a hassle.

"Lupin", I mutter the name, engraving his lupine face into my head. "We'll find you. I promise."

From atop the hearth, I spot a gray, impenetrable box. A means of storage entrusted to me by our old panda master Yo a long time ago that can only be opened with a key. A key that I don't have. Positioning myself in front of it, channeling my energy to my wings, making them glow light blue.

Beneath my breath I whispered, forming a cross with my appendages. My eyes closing to knot my focus, my concentration. "Woo Foo Technique." Both pairs of eyelids force open and reveal my irises. I brought my right wing around for an outward slash, sending a crescent of Woo Foo energy out. Slicing the box open. "Ivory Slasher!"The blast smashes the wall, leaving a small hole amidst a cloud of dust. Nothing a good plastering won't patch up.

I sweep off the dust and take out the halved box, along with a smaller, less durable paper box. The Blood of the Phoenix. Fushicho no Ketsukei. Or "Fountains of Youth in a Bite-Size Package" as conceived by my clever wit. The almighty revitalizing, rejuvenating capsules that grant back one's former self. The exact one that Kit herself had taken. Blowing the rest of the dust away, I open the box and take in one capsule. My body starts adjusting, shimmering. Bones and joints healed, senses recovered, tissues repaired, ruffled feathers reformed, beak toughening. My former strength returning to me. Like injecting botox to the entire body, except much more pleasant and more therapeutic.

The glow around me dissipates. My body is brought back to its former glory. A young, smooth, slick and skilled crow. I was fifteen years old again. I'd need it.

Everything said and done, I pass the kitchen and out to the garage. Flipping the lights open and witnessing the same, oil-stained scene. Shelves of oil and gasoline cans, metal polisher and other detergents and liquids. Tools laid out on the opposite walls. Hammers, torches, drills, a nail gun, all else in between. But the star attraction in this showcase is my motorcycle. My vehicle of the week. Right there in the middle of the room. Light shining down on the metallic, automotive beast. With the ability to reach a top speed of one hundred and fifty miles per hour. The rush of having my feathers being blown by the gale. The kaleidoscopic streaks as I pass the asphalt road. The thrill never leaves. Never repetitive.

Making my way towards it, the garage door squeals open, rigged sensors feeling me pass beneath them. I rest on the smooth leather, slipping the key into the ignition, striking down the gear shift with my talon, shifting to neutral. Flipping the power on and revving the gas.

Straw huts around, both big and small. A large collection of crows of all ages. The younger ones playing, chasing each other. Laughing all the way. Their parents watching keenly from inside their respective homes. A small village at the outskirts of town – the Karasu Village. Populated strictly by the dark avians. Renowned for their unfaltering loyalty towards each other and their breed of assassins; its ancestors are the founders of the nearly-extinct Karasu Ryu Assassination Art. Known for their unresolved feud with Woo Foo, constantly living in the shadows of its recognition and appraisal. Their jealousy a raging Napalm fire. Despite conclusions regarding their blood-thirsty demeanor, they are a peaceful group. Never initiating conflict, but will immediately resolve any directed towards them.

A certain day. One hundred years ago. At four years old, Noah awoke from his afternoon nap and rose from his cot. Searching high and low, disregarding his hut's low height. Searching for his grandfather, the village elder. From behind the woven curtain he saw two silhouettes. One of a hunched bird – Noah's grandfather. The other, another old creature. One with ursine features, ranging from the ears to his rotund frame. Noah knew it was the Woo Foo panda, Yo. Both engaged in a conversation with each other.

For so long, Yo had tried to settle the dispute between the Karasu Village and the Woo Foo Knights. Extinguish the flames. Understanding the innumerable amount of convincing required, but still hopeful in the fact that it's worth it. This was the tenth time in three weeks. Will the Elder overcome his pride or not? The signs told Noah that the former was possible. These signs being constant nodding, ground-ward stares of contemplation, crossed arms and a handshake to end the negotiation.

Both parties having made their own separate ways, Noah clasped his wings together, wondering about the outcome. His grandfather emerging through the curtain, giving his descendant a confident and caring smile.

Ugh! Again. A recurring memory. That boy. That was me. But…where was I? Who was I watching? Who was that old bird?

Tucking away this thought in my pocket, I shake my head and focus on the now. Looking fixedly at the black horizon. Releasing the clutch, and taking off. Kitsune in mind; I'll have to pick her up first.

Lupin

So much to cope with. So much to keep track of. Day after day. Villains chasing me one after another. Thinking about that handsome bounty on my head, envisioning themselves taking my battered self to that pathetic excuse for a President and claiming it. Society's fingers are still pointed at me. Following me around like a lovesick lunatic. Still treating me the way a maverick, a criminal, public enemy number one, a monster…is meant to be treated. Blamed for my atrocities. Those that I have not caused, those that no amount of reasoning can dispute.

A rougher part of the town. A more urban feel exuding. I've been running, avoiding angry mobs flinging random objects and pointing out pitch forks at me. Others who aren't part of these small and active congregations run the opposite direction, screaming for their lives. The pedestrian path I pass diverges, and I make the turn. Stumbling across a rodent-infested alley. Leaning on the large garbage bin to recouperate. My body about to crumble; this is too much.

Every hour is a rising battle. I can't look back. Not even once. I can't mourn, I can't cry. No matter how much I want to. I'm on the run for what is probably the rest of my life. Despised by many and all, overcome by so many emotions that combine so terrifyingly that it crushes the soul. Unable to circumvent the pain. I am an outcast. A renegade. My powers, my only source. But even that isn't going to be enough. The title of Woo Foo Grandmaster and my capabilities can only do so much. My powers aren't enough, despite what many say. So many lives at stake. Innocent lives. A weapon of mass destruction. Trouble is never far behind where I'm around. Everything I touch is reduced to rubble and refuse. A bane to everyone. Anathema to those I hold dear. Like Jesus Christ. Only he did not fight his fate. He accepted it.

Yin…

Yang…

Yo…

Noah…

Weiss…

Kitsune…

All the teachings I've learned. The same ones I've passed down to Yang. My ability to abide by them was growing weaker. My body also growing weaker, insult added to injury. My dreams, my hopes, my wishes. They don't mean a damn thing. A wanted criminal can't carry on the art and culture of Woo Foo. Not in as pitiful a condition as mine. Everything I believed in…gone. My hope and faith…gone. By running away from those I love, in a blind attempt to save them, I've most likely caused them pain by leaving their side. Breaking promises along the way. My heart is like ballast. The weight stops me in my tracks. It hurts. I've taken this lonely road. Fitting my bloodline to a tee – a lone wolf. I don't know what to do. I'm a martyr with nothing to die for. Most of the time, I just wished that Makai would show up, and we'd have our fated fight. I knew it was going to be a losing battle, but the freedom through death…it's bliss. If I lose my life, my plague will end. The pandemonium will cease. Die and free myself from the misery I cause as well as my own.

When will my release come? Is it imminent? Or do I have to suffer and writhe some more? I keep asking these questions. WHY WON'T ANYONE ANSWER ME?‼ WHY. WON'T. THE. SIGNS. SHOW. UP?‼

A pain rushes to me amidst my contemplation.

"Argh!" I gasp and clutch my suddenly aching head. My coat and pants drenched from contact with the small puddles around. The mice around me still prancing about. Running from my sudden voice. "What. Now? Gah!"

Each ounce of pressure mounts on one another. Like a pyramid. My discomfort shown with no need for hints.

My head. It…hurts…

Multiple buildings, high and low. Engulfed in flames, bathed in fire. As were its people. Screaming horrifyingly, ignited. Cries and wails of newborns, infants and toddlers contributing to the chaotic effect. Most of them running around in a pained panic. Many losing their strength and left with the only option of letting the blazes disintegrate them. Vehicles, signs, street lights and many more destroyed.

The sky reddens. The clouds gray. One at a time, the structures collapse. Crashes and explosions roar. No life would survive.

A silhouette stands in the middle of the destruction. A lupine-shaped figure. Standing menacingly. The cause of the miniature hell. The coat on his back propelled by the warped wind. Gazing with burning, blood-red eyes, reflecting no vestige of remorse.

What…was that? Was that…me? Am I. Going to. Do that?

This must be what everything will be like if I stay alive. If I continue walking this planet. Resign myself to this gruesome fate. A preview of this doomed world. And I will be the cause of it. The instrument. The me I don't want to be. The me that I will be, no matter what.

The scene replays itself, like a DVD chapter on repeat.

So painful. I want it to stop.

"No… No!" I cry out, closing my eyes and clutching harder. Having had enough. My voice weakening with each second. "Stop it! Stop… No… Please…" My eyes flood; I can't contain it anymore. My sobs escape my closed maw. Streams of tears falling down my face. My heart becoming heavier, just cracking my chest and my ribs. Piercing through the tissue like nothing.

No! Stop! Stop it… No…no… Please. Please…

Then it happens.

Among my sorrow and agony, something chimes in. Not a bell; there isn't one within this radius. My teary eyes open, beholding my magatama necklace. Watching it radiate. These demons, these visages, dispelled. Replaced by white. Replacing everything. This ragged place.

A zone of white. Nothing around. Empty. And at the same time, it's the most peaceful and tranquil place I've ever been in.

"What…is this?" I show my curiosity, my chest lightening.

From somewhere, a voice echoes. A familiar one. Female. One with tenderness, mercy, love and compassion. The same one that saved me from my demise three months ago.

"Do not worry…my dear."

"Who…?"

"You are strong. You will prevail against your sorrow. There is no need to ask for death's release." Wisdom that I've heard countless times now.

"I'm not that strong." I swear, I've heard her before.

"Dear child, I will be your source of strength. There are many others who will do the same. There is no need to cry. I will be here. I am always near."

"How will I know?"

"You will know…because I am near only if you allow it."

A shadowy figure emerges from the distance. Its features akin to mine. The wolf ears. The tail. The traces of fur. Maybe looking at me with a parent's eyes. Caring and loving eyes. This must be the one talking. I reach out to her and draw myself closer to her, wishing she'd wrap her arms around me.

The image drifts away. I continue, despite the knowledge that I won't catch up.

"Wait!"

She's gone. I stop myself and ponder. She says that she'll be there to comfort me. To dry my tears, to give me that relieving embrace. Only if I allow it. Who was she? So familiar, yet so…not.

I sigh at it all. Sitting down like a domesticated dog instead of an untamed one. Humbled and relaxed. My tail curling around my left leg. These feelings inside of me simmer down. I release all of it and let out a lengthy and proud howl. Restoring my spirits – one of the many effects the howl of a wolf can leave.

The cry continues, and the white field takes me back to the alley. I stand back up on my feet and cling to my necklace, looking at it. Noticing the glow having faded. A lucky charm? No; I'm not one for superstition. A real load, if anyone asks.

This bead. This magatama bead. It's not an ordinary one. I've had it for as long as I live. Ever since I was a pup. A Woo Foo treasure? Only the grains of time have the answer.

Another familiar voice cracks through, catching me off-guard. "Lupin."

Gasping, I turn to see this creature. Stunned. Surprised at the lengths he will go. "Yang…?"


I feel a little guilty about the constant Bible references in here. I'll simmer down on that next time, hehehe...