Disclaimer: The author does not own any trademarks used or referenced in this story.

Author's note: This was a drabble posted in DCMK Discord that has been polished and posted here for posterity's sake. Originally conceived as a Father's Day piece but did not develop in time and eventually got shafted in favor of other ideas. It probably never would've materialized if not for a movie called 'Snake Eyes: GI Joe Origins.' No guarantees as to whether this short piece matches the quality of that though.

For styles, I would say this takes more from "The Way Home" than the other Shuichi stories I've done. I've been wanting to unpack Shuichi's martial arts expertise for a while now. Not so much in the context of a fight, but rather, a more spiritual aspect of it. Since this is a pre-canon story, some parts of it might need to be rectified retroactively...

Unlike Water

Empty your mind, be formless, shapeless, like water.

Knowing what really happened to his father, he couldn't do it. Not until he puts a bullet through the skulls of the faceless monsters responsible for his disappearance.

If you put water into a cup, it becomes the cup. You put water into a bottle and it becomes the bottle. You put it in a teapot it becomes the teapot. Now water can flow, or it can crash.

Does that mean if he put all of his anger into the shell they call Shuichi Akai, his anger will completely take over it? Is rage really such a bad thing if it's the one thing that can deliver him the vengeance he sought? Does he really have to douse the fire that has driven him firmly into this path ever since his father left home and never came back?

Lashing out at the wooden dummy wouldn't give him answers. He's always been aware of that. And yet, enslaved by emotions that every school cautioned against, it was all he could do until his fists grew sick of it. Realizing the futility of his exertion, he pooled all of his fury into his left hand and swiped at an arm, effectively breaking it off the trunk.

Tsutomu Akai spent the last years of his life training him for this moment. As he is now, Tsutomu will be disappointed.

Unfocused. Worthless. Pathetic.

And yet, ever since she'd stolen a peak of him keeping up with his morning routine, his young sister began imitating it in an effort to get him to teach her the proper form. A wish uttered by a child severely entranced by moves she'd seen on TV. She had no idea how little form matters in a fight to the death. Even the tiger had to beat the towering mantis to the ground and choke him out for the decisive win...

He shouldn't have taken a child's whims seriously, but he couldn't get the idea out of his head. It was the first time Masumi asked for something in earnest, after all. Not for a new pair of shoes, a mini-bike, nor for her missing father to give her a lift. She didn't even ask for help reviewing for a math test. She wanted him to teach her a martial art of all things.

Shuichi hunkered down the open bench, wiped the sweat off his glistening body with a towel before draping it across his nape, and mulled over the matter. There was really no downside to teaching her how to defend herself. At the very least, it'll ingrain some self-discipline in her that hopefully flourishes into a habit. Even the most basic movements will definitely come a long way in keeping predators and groomers away. Especially for when he's no longer around to watch over her.

Quite frankly, he knew all along that the problem was his own inability to be like water. His own fear of initiating her into the cruel world he now resides in...

But perhaps the choice wasn't his to make. Just as his father never dissuaded him when he himself wanted to be strong, he probably shouldn't discourage her if she really wants to learn. Maybe in a couple of months' time she'll be sick of scabs and bruises like any other kid who takes up martial arts classes and gives up at the first sniff of a new dalliance. Maybe she'll start taking up shogi instead... There's always the possibility that she'll never turn out like him, but he'll never know unless he acknowledged her request and properly gauged her resolve.

Regardless of what his sister decides to do in the future however, the real questions remain... Can he teach as well as his father taught him? Can he do it without projecting some of his own agony into her and dragging her into the depths of Hell? Is he ever going to be good enough to fill the extra pair of shoes his father left in the cubby?

...Maybe not in his current state. He'll have to be better than this by the time she's old enough to ask him again and mean it. "I better go fix that...," Shuichi muttered, pulling himself off the bench to pick up the dislodged arm.

The End.

written by tsukuy0mi47.