Prologue IV: Yang
The cries of a small dragon echoed hopelessly inside of an empty lair. Far before the creature ever realized her role as a protector, her treasure had all been stolen away from underneath her feet. Clinging to a fleeting sense of purpose, the dragon sought to once again fill the void where chests, coins and chalices once lay. Thrashing around wildly, the creature unleashed her mighty roars, her vicious fire and her destructive power; crashing repeatedly against the walls of her lonely dungeon. But her voice eventually faded to silence, her flames were eventually extinguished, and her wings couldn't take flight with no sky to claim for their own. So, the dragon sat and cried, lamenting her weakness and her pain.
"Yang, it's late, where do you think you're going?"
The girl paused, only for a brief instant; her hand holding tightly onto the door handle. Then, she turned with a wide grin.
"Calm down pops. I'm just going to fetch myself and Ruby some snacks; you don't have to be so paranoid. I'll be back in a sec."
As she closed the door behind her, Yang let out a sigh of relief. She often found the mundane, comfortable environment of her own home to be suffocating. The girl slowly made her way to the old wooden shed while thinking whether her sister would prefer the 'Spicy Dust Puffs' or the 'Crazy Ranch Hunter Bites'. Finally, she stood in front of a large object covered by a hefty piece of cloth. Even though it had become a bit of a routine for her, Yang couldn't help but feel excitement rushing through her veins as she pulled the sheet away with an exaggerated motion, revealing the slick yellow motorcycle underneath.
Before she even thought of getting on the vehicle however, Yang performed a thorough and meticulous examination of its components. Ever since the girl had been gifted her bike (after much begging and pleading), she took really good care of it. Although Yang was nowhere near as tech savvy as her own sister, she at least bothered to learn the basics of motorcycle maintenance and, along the way, it turned into a bit of a hobby. The more she understood about her vehicle, the more connected she felt to its sounds and movements. As Yang sat down and revved the engine, she sensed her pulse matching that of her trusty steed.
"Don't forget to wear a helmet!"
The girl was not at all surprised to hear her father's voice through the window. Even if he could sometimes be overbearing, it was always the good kind of overbearing: the kind that would constantly remind you to pick up your socks, do your homework and brush your teeth. Although, her tendency to avoid headgear had less to do with neglecting her own safety and more with the fact that fitting her voluminous mane of yellow hair inside it often proved to be a huge hassle. Regardless, having put on the appropriate protective gear, the girl gave one last glance at her home, wondering if her little sister would have been asleep by the time she came back. Then, physically shaking all doubts off her head, she rushed forward.
xx
Two hours later, the sun had completely set over the horizon and Yang had flown right past five different convenience stores and two gas stations. Unsurprisingly, her scroll was bursting with unanswered text messages and lost calls, all from the same number. But the girl wasn't concerned with such matters. There was barely anything in her mind at all. Dashing aimlessly through the large, fenced roads of the countryside, Yang just couldn't bring herself to stop. Deep down, she hoped that if she continued to accelerate, perhaps the colors and noises racing past her would blend together just enough to allow her to slip into a different reality; a fantasy. Maybe, in a different world, she wouldn't have been left alone.
The moment the thought crossed her mind, a strong pressure clenched Yang's chest and she finally brought herself to hit the brakes. She was sweaty, breathing heavily, and had only a vague notion of which path to follow to get back home. Taking off her helmet, Yang inhaled the fresh cold air of the evening night, which restored some of her composure. Looking up into the sky, the girl longed to feel peace, or calm, or even just complacency. But the faint, silver glint of the stars only seemed to taunt her, mocking her inability to shine with the same dignity and virtue. Indeed, the girl craved intensity and adventure, yet resented her own foolhardy attitude: if only she were able to be thankful for her serene existence surrounded by the people she loved most, then her life would have been beautiful. Instead, she had somehow managed to be away from them, all alone, at night, in the middle of nowhere, while holding back tears. Frankly, she had to be some kind of massive failure, or idiot, or both.
"Hello there, sweetheart. Are you lost?"
For any other young woman who might have found herself all on her own in an unknown place, the sight of bandits popping out of nowhere on motorcycles might have been utterly frightening. For Yang, the idea of a brawl occupying her mind as opposed to being left alone with her own thoughts was a pretty encouraging one. Quickly wiping her eyes, she met her aggressors with a smile.
"Hey, aren't you too old to be playing bandits with your friends?"
The man riding ahead of the other four, whom Yang presumed to be the leader, was taken aback. Clearly, he was not used to his victims displaying such confidence, especially given their numerical advantage. After stumbling awkwardly on his own words, a sly grin returned to his face as he responded.
"I don't think you understand the situation you're in, sweetheart."
Yang couldn't help but let out a small giggle.
"Of course I do. I'm being assaulted by a middle-aged man who clearly got lost somewhere along the path of life. The moment your hairline starts retreating THAT far back, I think you should just call it quits on the whole gang business and try to get an honest job, raise a family… you know, take some responsibility. Also, don't call me sweetheart; it's just creepy, dude."
Now visibly frustrated, the bandit reached for his weapon and pointed it toward the blonde, his gritted smile a strained act, "Let me tell you something only someone with a bit of experience would know. There are far too many fools in this world who think themselves the protagonist of some story and believe that as long as they are optimistic and brave nothing bad will happen to them. Well, hear me out swee-"
Before the bandit could finish his sentence, Yang had already leaped off her bike and landed a haymaker right underneath his jaw, sending him flying with a satisfying *thud*.
"I told you not to call me sweetheart, hotshot."
While his underlings still sat in silence, looking at their boss land unceremoniously in front of them, Yang prepared herself for battle; deploying her trusty gauntlets and assuming a confident battle stance.
From the moment the full-on fighting began, the girl sported a wide smile, throwing herself into danger with reckless abandon. Yang particularly enjoyed the pain; it was one of the few things that she could still experience with fervor and one of the most effective ways to anchor herself onto reality. Every time she was hit, or scraped or cut, it was like a surge of emotion spread through the wound and reminded her of how desperately she wanted to live and how precious her life was; she couldn't get enough of it. With her own fists, she dished out the same damage back almost as if it was an act of gratitude; her consciousness was tempered as her body got fully immersed in the flow of movement and passion.
Soon however, it became apparent that the words of the older bandit bore some truth, as even a trained fighter like Yang was having issues trying to confront 4 enemies riding vehicles at the same time. It might have been that the girl's carelessness was finally going to catch up to her; after all, that hadn't been the first time she had ended up involved in an unfavorable street fight.
Forced on the defensive, Yang was caught off guard when the older bandit took hold of her boot, allowing one of his underlings to land a clean hit on the girl's head which finally knocked her down. Through some effort, the man got back up; though a particularly nasty bruise was visible on his face and he was missing a tooth. While bending over Yang's motorcycle for support, he addressed the girl once more:
"You're most definitely a feisty one. It would be almost disrespectful to just rob you at this point. No; we're going to take you back with us and together we'll have lots of fun. I'll make sure you regret raising your fist against me for the rest of your miserable life, starting with this fancy little bike of yours. It's a shame, I'm sure your daddy must have bought it for you, but now…"
The man then used his weapon to cleave the surface of Yang's ride, generating a terrible screeching sound in the process.
"Well, how's that for a middle-aged man, swee-"
For the second time, Yang landed an uppercut on the bandit, only this time he was sent even further up in the air and the noise resulting from the blow had been more of a *crack* instead of a *thud*. The other men were bewildered when they lay eyes on the girl's suddenly glowing figure. The vibrant aura surrounding her body had the appearance of vivid flames and her thick mane of hair was shining with a golden gleam that ruptured through the darkness around her. The other reason Yang enjoyed pain and fighting was because it allowed her to experience that state; one in which her full potential was unleashed and she could live the high of releasing her absolute everything onto the world. Before the bandits had any time to retaliate, they were swiftly taken out by a radiant, violent blur of pure light.
xx
As Yang approached the entrance of her home, she noticed a shadow leaning on the fence near the front yard. When she got closer, she recognized the outline of a man who was playfully twirling a cane around. Under normal circumstances, Yang would have confronted him in a daring manner or maybe with some clever remark. But right then, the girl was much too tired to think anything beyond the simple question in her mind.
"Who are you?"
The cane halted and was brought to the ground as the figure turned around; the sunlight of the first hours of dawn caressed the side of his face and revealed the tranquil expression upon his emerald eyes.
"I'm just a concerned party. I came here to discuss some very important matters with your father, he's an old friend of mine you see, but I found that his mind was simply too preoccupied to pay attention to anything I had to say. Hence…" The man then lifted his cane toward the sky, staring at the far end of it "…using my impeccable deduction skills, I surmised the reason behind his troubled thoughts and decided to stick around to get to meet the troublemaker responsible for them."
Though his words might have been interpreted as confrontational, Yang found the stranger's quirky attitude to be oddly likeable. So, instead of just brushing him off and leaving to take the shower she badly longed for, the girl decided to engage with him.
"And?"
The man then brought his cane back down, tapping it on the wooden fence, and finally turned to stare into Yang's eyes.
"Well, I'm certainly not disappointed."
As he straightened his posture and looked upon the sunrise, the stranger's voice assumed a different pitch. A hint of grief was visible in his eyes.
"Life is a funny thing you know. The more you try to desperately cling on, the more it seems to slip away through your fingers. On the adverse, the more you try to run away and reject its charm, the more you seem to slam head first into its beauty. It's honestly just a losing battle; at least, from the moment you start considering it as such."
Placing his cane horizontally between his hands and looking at it wistfully, the man continued:
"What I've found, is that it's best not to hold on, nor to turn your back on it, but to fully embrace the joy, anger, sadness and sorrow without ever allowing yourself to look away. No matter what."
As the man suddenly began to walk away, Yang almost subconsciously reached out to him, raising her voice:
"But isn't that scary?"
The stranger then let out a gentle laugh, one that only expressed empathy and understanding: "It certainly is; more than anything else in fact. But it's the only way to truly move forward. If you ever decide to stop running away…" He then turned to Yang with a smile "…come find me at Beacon. We can struggle to overcome the past and strive to build a better present for ourselves and others, together."
Waving his hand, the figure slowly disappeared into the distance.
xx
When he heard light knocks, Yang's father sprinted toward the gate of his house, almost tripping over himself in the process. Slamming the door open, he was met by his daughter's bruised figure on the other side. Her clothes were dirty and battered and she was holding a plastic bag on one hand. Expecting the scolding of her lifetime, Yang began talking in an apologetic tone:
"Uhh… I'm sorry. The store we usually go to was closed, so I had to go to the next one and I kinda got lost and then these bad guys showed up, but I swear, they started it and…"
Yang was cut off, as her father tightly embraced her. His large hands were trembling; they were the hands of a man that understood the weight of loss all too well. He spoke with the trembling tone that dads never allow their children to hear:
"I'm so glad you're safe. I was so worried."
A familiar sense of regret and self-loathing crept up the girl's stomach. Despite everything, the only thing she had managed to achieve was once again to hurt the people that were most important to her. No amount of jokes or fake smiles could ever paint over her father's mournful expression.
Then, behind her dad's shoulders, Yang saw Ruby coming down the stairs. The younger sister was clearly moving groggily, but she was not even wearing her pajamas. It seemed she, too, had been waiting. In the midst of a powerful yawn, she asked:
"Did you bring me my Spicy Dust Puffs?"
With a resigned laugh, Yang held up the bag she was carrying.
"Sorry, Crazy Ranch Hunter Bites."
"Bummer."
With uneven steps, Ruby walked toward her sister and joined the group hug. All three members of the family silently embraced; all of them tired, all of them worried, all of them painfully aware of what it was like to have something you hold dear be snatched away.
With a delicate voice, Ruby spoke into her sister's shoulder: "You know, when you disappear like that, sometimes I start imagining that you won't come back, either."
Yang felt a knot tightening her throat shut and her father's arms shuddering.
"Will you leave us too, Yang?"
Closing her eyes, Yang made a vow to herself on that night, and she would live by it from that point on. Her own impulses and desires seemed so insignificant next to the small hand that was tightly grasping at her back. Even if everything else was gone, or if the whole world came crashing down, as a big sister she would nevertheless have a duty left to fulfill.
"No, never. I'll always be by your side. I promise."
The small dragon still had a treasure worth protecting.