Despite the Shoku Warriors' curiosity about Ping Pong's whereabouts for the past few months, their exhaustion won over. Collapsing into their beds shortly after sunset, the four slept soundly, only waking up in the morning after Dojo slithered into Omi's and Ping Pong's room and shouted, startled, "Ping Pong, put some pajamas on! You're not a jungle cat!" After Ping Pong babbled numerous apologies about how his normal clothes were dirty from months of wear and he had no pajamas, Omi found the boy some hand-me-downs.

The monks had their breakfast and then stepped outside to begin their training. Under the cloudy sky, Master Fung waited for them at the obstacle course, with Chucky Choo and Dojo perched on each shoulder. A cheetah sat next to them, motionless and stoic.

"Mouchetures!" Ping Pong said, and he dashed to the cheetah. When he jumped forward and hugged her around the neck, she started purring.

"The Guan man said that one wouldn't stop yowling after I flew you here," said Chucky Choo. "She kept looking for you everywhere, so Guan sent her here with the Golden Tiger Claws. The others are still at our temple." He chuckled. "Guan isn't too thrilled about that. Not a cat person."

The cheetah licked the top of Ping Pong's head, and he giggled. The other monks raised their eyebrows and exchanged glances, and Omi finally said, "I am most confused. Why is there a cheetah here, and how does it know Ping Pong?"

"She is a friend of mine," Ping Pong turned around to face the monks, and the cheetah bowed her head to them. "She helped me fight Hannibal Bean and Ying Ying."

"You fought them?" Kimiko asked with a gasp.

"We were the two swiftest," said Ping Pong. "But Hannibal Bean was very strong. I had to use my elemental powers to stop him from hurting her—"

"You had to use your what?"

Ping Pong scuffed one foot and twiddled his fingers. "Oh. That was—well. I was so scared for Mouchetures… My instincts took over, and I called for the Wood element." He beamed at them. "And it worked!"

"You're a Xiaolin Dragon of Wood?" Clay let out a low whistle. "You're the fifth element!"

Ping Pong pinched the sides of his glasses, blushing at the ground. "I suppose I am!"

"And you are already harnessing your element?" Omi tilted his head at the apprentice with eyebrows raised. "It took me many years of training to harness the power of water." Ping Pong twiddled his fingers nervously, looking up at Omi as if expecting the return of jealousy, but instead the Shoku Warrior smiled and patted the smaller monk's head. "Very impressive, little gecko!"

"You really think so, Brother Omi?" With a giggle, Ping Pong sprang up and whizzed in a circle around the course. "I shall do my best to catch up to you!"

"I'm still reelin' about that fight y'all had against Hannibal Bean," said Clay, scratching his head. "I reckon it's about time you tell us what you've been up to these past few months."

Ping Pong tapped his index fingers together. "Other than that battle, I have not been doing much. Merely, um, keeping watch at Chase's lair."

At the name, Omi's expression immediately soured, and he turned away. Clay crossed his arms, but Kimiko crouched down in front of Ping Pong and asked, "Was Chase there? Was he training you?"

"Non. I was only under Chase Young's tutelage for one day." Ping Pong shrugged, and then he smiled timidly at Omi. "But I believe he taught you Repulse the Monkey, correct, Brother Omi?"

"That is not a move I use anymore," Omi said. He yanked the Orb of Tornami out of the nearby chest with more force than necessary and took aim at a dummy across the field. "Chase Young once had me convinced that he was a noble warrior, worthy of admiration and respect, but he is nothing but an ice-blooded murderer. I no longer associate with him."

Ping Pong shrank away, but after a moment of biting his lip, he timidly said, "I saw Chase Young after the Cosmic Clash. He is not a monster anymore. If you can forgive me, perhaps you could forgive him?"

Omi fired a jet of water and didn't answer. Clay shook his head and said, "It ain't the same, littlest partner. You never hurt anyone. You just made some poor decisions."

Ping Pong's shoulders hunched, and he fought the urge to shrink into a little ball, but he found the nerve to continue. "Chase Young was not himself when he attacked the temple. His good chi was gone. Surely," he gave a timid glance in Omi's direction, "surely you know what that's like?"

The water spewing from the orb wavered as Omi's eyes widened. "How do you know about that?"

Kimiko mumbled, "I might have put something on my blog a while back." She pressed her hands onto her hips. "But that's still not the same! Omi never tried to kill anyone, even with his good chi gone."

At her words, Omi's eyes trailed down the pathway of the water jet, all the way to the dummy, and an image came unbidden to his mind: Raimundo pinned to a rock wall by a thick jet of water, fighting to keep the breath in his lungs, green eyes tearing up… The orb slipped from his fingers, leaving Omi's hands stretched outwards and empty.

Master Fung, who until now had nearly observed his students in silence, stepped forward and said, "I too wish to hear Ping Pong's story about his battle with Hannibal Bean. Perhaps this conversation is best continued inside."

Omi blinked and shook his head. "Master Fung is most wise as always." He tossed the Orb of Tornami back into the chest and started to stomp back toward the temple. As the others awkwardly began to follow, he said through gritted teeth, "I do not wish to talk about Chase Young any further. Wherever he is or whatever he is doing, I am certain it is of no importance to us!"

Chase stumbled into the atrium of his old lair.

Swallowing the low growls forming in his throat, he raised a quaking hand and snapped his fingers. The sound cracked across the hall, but no jungle cat arrived to aid him. Panting, Chase pressed his palms onto his knees and grimaced while thick heat pulsed down his spine and gripped his bones. Fighting the tremors, he finally found the resolve to lurch down into the catacombs, his movements stiff and jerky.

Several minutes—or hours—passed in a red, hazy blur. After staggering down a long gray hallway and nearly tripping over a cauldron in the middle of the room, his fingers finally latched onto maroon curtains. He yanked them back, and his bloodshot eyes locked onto a can of soup.

As the growling in his throat grew louder, he panted and swung an arm onto the shelf. It smacked against the stone and sent a spasm through his body. With clumsy fingers, he latched onto the can, tugged it from the shelf, and shoved a corner between his jaws. Biting down hard with pointed teeth, he broke through the lid and tipped his head back until the lukewarm liquid hissed down his throat. He felt the heat slowly dissipate. His fingernails rounded out again, and his vision cleared.

Taking a long breath, he leaned back against the gray wall and crushed the can in his fist. "Too close," he muttered, letting it drop. He glanced into the pantry. Less than a dozen cans of soup remained on the shelves.

Chase had failed to find a dragon in years; Dojo was one of the last of his species. Still, that didn't explain why his jungle cats had stopped delivering the Lao Mang Long soup to him several days ago. He frowned and pushed himself up from the wall, wincing at the fading soreness in his body. Then, calmer and steadier than before, he started to walk back through the catacombs.

Now alert and focused, Chase's frown deepened when he stepped back out into the atrium. Enormous molted feathers littered the room, along with scuff marks and one puddle of dried blood smeared across the white stone floor.

He let out a long sigh. Then the sound of smashing glass echoed dimly from the caverns above. Eyes widening, he whirled around. Letting out a sharp breath through his nose, he turned and dashed up the staircase.

Once he reached his throne room, he froze at the doorway and clenched his fists. The sky-colored ceiling had been destroyed; its pieces were scattered across the room, along with shards of all the painted windows. Claw marks adorned the dark walls, and the throne itself lay on its side.

Just as Chase raised a foot to step inside, a low growl resonated from within. Chase immediately pinned his body to the wall outside, peeking in with arms raised in battle stance. For a moment, silence thickened the room like fog.

Then Wuya's body dropped from the ceiling.

She crashed onto the glass-covered floor. When Chase gasped, a dark, raspy chuckle filled the room. Chase looked up and spotted a long red tail disappear within the darkness above the destroyed ceiling. The pulsing of wing flaps reached his ears. He whipped his head around and dashed back onto the staircase just in time to watch a large winged creature soar out the entrance to the lair, swirling like a reddened shadow.

Stumbling, Chase glanced back and returned to the throne room. Kneeling at Wuya's side, he pressed two fingers to her wrist. She had a faint, steady pulse, but her eyes were wide with rage and horror. In one hand, she clutched the bottom half of a thin, broken staff. Faintly recognizing it, Chase inhaled sharply and dashed to the lion statue near his throne. He kicked off the statue's head and peered into the hollow space inside.

The Eagle Scope, the Wushan Geyser, and the Necklace of Amelior were still there, untouched. Chase gritted his teeth. He was short one Shen Gong Wu.

His amber eyes flashed around the room, and within moments, he saw a glimmer of gold amidst the shards of glass behind his throne. He walked to it, kneeled, and picked up the top half of Wuya's weapon, the only hope they had against the creature who had stolen her chi: the broken Pneuma Crystal.

At the kitchen table, while the monks and dragons started on an early lunch, the four Xiaolin Warriors exchanged stories. Master Fung sipped tea, listening quietly to the stories of Ping Pong battling a satyr, Kimiko setting Wuya's hair on fire, Clay breaking out of Chase's prison, and Omi snatching the Chi Splitter through an elaborate distraction. The monks slowly grew more animated, energy bouncing from each other as they took turns speaking and listening. He had not seen any of them this cheerful in months.

Then, once the babbles quieted down, Chucky Choo glanced around the table and asked, "So when are you kids gonna start thinking of picking a new leader?"

Forks clattered to the table. Ping Pong gulped, Kimiko's and Clay's gazes flashed to the empty chair where Raimundo used to sit, and Omi sank a few inches in his seat. Dojo glared at his fellow dragon and said, "Chucky. Ix-nay on the eader-lay alk-tay."

Kimiko sighed and picked her fork back up. "We know what Pig Latin is, Dojo."

"We do?" asked Omi.

"Perhaps Chucky Choo's suggestion is worth considering," Master Fung said, though his tone was gentle. "You cannot prevent the birds of sorrow from flying over your head, but you can prevent them from building nests in your hair."

For a moment, the monks waited for a baffled voice to say something snarky about Master Fung's proverb. When no one did, Omi picked at his food and said, "But I do not have any hair."

Clay scratched the back of his neck. "I reckon we don't need another leader. We took down Hannibal Bean just fine without… one." He glanced at the empty chair again before shoving a wad of food into his mouth.

"Besides," said Kimiko, shrugging and pushing her plate away, "we've seen alternate universes where each of us was leader, and none of us did any good. I got us locked up in a prison while Jack took over the world, Clay had us growing corn and hiding from evil Guan, and Omi—" She pointed at Omi and paused. "Well, actually, Omi did pretty well."

"I did?" Omi tilted his head at her.

"Remember the Omi from the alternate universe? Other Omi?"

Omi blinked, and then he set his elbows on the table to rest his chin on his palms. "Oh. I forgot about Other Me."

Clay chuckled. "Whew, you know we've had it rough if an alternate version of Omi is forgettable by comparison."

"He took one of your Shen Gong Wu, correct?" asked Ping Pong. "The Red Reverser?"

Omi blinked at Ping Pong's words, frowning slightly.

"The Rio Reverso," said Kimiko.

"That one was not at the temple when I first arrived," said Ping Pong. "What did it do? Why was it so important?"

Clay shrugged. "It wasn't. Jack Spicer once used it to make a dinosaur army, but they weren't too much trouble."

Omi's hands slid from his cheeks and gripped the table, breath catching and eyes widening.

"Dinosaurs?" Ping Pong asked. "I am not making the connection."

"It turns something to its original state," said Dojo. "In this case, he turned oil into dinosaurs."

Ping Pong's mouth dropped open. "Live dinosaurs?"

"Yep," said Clay.

A breath hissed through Omi's teeth. Ping Pong's face crumpled, and tears filled his eyes.

"What's wrong, littlest partner?" Clay, Kimiko, and Dojo leaned toward the apprentice.

"Do you not understand?" Ping Pong clasped his hands over his mouth. "Dinosaurs have been dead for millions of years, and the Rio Reverso brought them back to life! Just think what it could have done to the ashes of someone who's been dead for only a few months!"

Whatever Kimiko was about to say dropped in her throat. Dojo gasped, and Clay gripped his fork so tightly that it snapped. The pronged half clattered to the floor. Kimiko whispered, "Rai."

"And now it's too late! We can't get it back because it's not even in our universe anymore! It was taken away by—" Suddenly Ping Pong's breath caught. He turned to stare at the Shoku Dragon of Water, and the others followed his gaze. "An Omi… who was… the team leader."

Omi stared back at them, eyes alive and wild. Silence filled the room as the four monks felt the mental puzzle pieces snap together. Then Omi sprang onto the table and cried, "Master Fung! I wish to be the new leader!"

Kimiko's hand shot up. "I second the vote!"

"I third it!" said Clay.

"Quatrième!" said Ping Pong.

Dojo reeled back on Master Fung's shoulder. "Wait, what is going on?"

Master Fung merely raised an eyebrow. "A unanimous decision? Very well."

At the elder's words, Omi's robes began to glow and sparkle. When the light faded, a familiar monk stood in the center of the table, the same monk who had fallen from the sky months ago, wearing the black team leader robes.

Omi looked up at Dojo and Master Fung. "Other Omi was not from another universe. He was me from the future. I am Other Omi!" Breathing hard, he gripped the sleeves of his robes, and a slow grin spread across his face. "Now if you all will excuse me, I must go retrieve the Rio Reverso—to bring my best friend back!"

He sprang from the table and ran out the room. Clay, Kimiko, Ping Pong, and Dojo all dashed after him, so Chucky Choo was the only one who spotted Master Fung's proud smile.

"Where are we going?" Kimiko called.

"Jack Spicer," said Omi, dashing down the porch steps. "My other self said that Jack Spicer had brought him to our universe."

"How?" asked Clay. "A Shen Gong Wu?"

"I do not know, but I am sure that Jack Spicer has an answer. We must get to his lair right away!"

"Hold on, Omi," said Kimiko, grabbing the back of his black robes and tugging him to a stop. "If you're going back to the past, then you're going to see Raimundo again."

Omi gulped. "That—that is correct."

"But it's the past. He hasn't died yet."

Omi's breath started to slow. "Also correct."

"Why not warn him about Chase Young? You could stop this whole thing from ever happening!"

"But then Chase Young will still be evil," said Ping Pong.

"So what?" said Kimiko, flailing her arms at the others. "I'll take a dozen evil Chase Youngs if that means Rai doesn't die!"

"She's right," said Clay, nodding. "Just tell Raimundo the truth, Omi."

The space between Omi's brows creased. "I cannot do that."

"Why not?"

"It is not what I remember happening."

"What do you mean?" asked Ping Pong.

"You were not at the temple the last time I tried to change the past, Ping Pong," said Omi. He turned to his other two friends. "But Kimiko, Clay, you remember. When I tried to stop Chase Young from turning evil, I made the future worse than it was. If I try to save Raimundo, I may succeed, but who knows what the cost would be? The only way I can guarantee my success is if I do everything exactly the way I remember it. I believe Raimundo called it a 'stable time circle.'"

"That means you'll have to lie to him," said Kimiko.

Omi looked down. "Yes."

"Rai will be so mad at you."

"I know," said Omi. "I remember it well."

"Are you sure you can handle that, lil buddy?" asked Clay.

Omi took a deep breath. "If it means that I leave with the Rio Reverso," he smiled, "then I shall do whatever it may take!" He sprang onto Dojo's back, and after the other monks followed, the dragon lifted.

As they took to the sky, a pair of gleaming yellow eyes watched them from the shadows of the forest below. Then, spreading feathered wings, the creature rose into the air and silently followed.