Wednesday
Dearest Xiaoyu,
It's me again.
How are you feeling today, Xiao?
You look tired, if not exhausted, and a little concerned. I know why.
You were training with your grandfather last night, that bundle of wrinkles and ancient wisdom. He told you that you were slacking, that your attacks aren't nearly as powerful as they were before. He said that if you planned on entering the Iron Fist tournament when it was announced, you'd have to train every night until that day came to qualify.
You pleaded with him, saying that certain predicaments were shackling your mind and preventing you from obtaining the focused concentration you used to possess, but he shook his head in silent disappointment and saw to it that you trained with him through the night.
You don't look anything like the Xiaoyu I know right now. Your raven hair is far from smooth, with pigtails gradually sliding into lopsided positions, and your bright chocolate eyes have dimmed, the energy gone from your thin frame.
To crush a delicate, colorful butterfly such as yourself is a sinful shame. I sympathize with the worn zombie you've become.
I was observing your training session from afar, my presence hidden by the hollow trunk of a bare tree not far from the dirt-littered ground you were standing on. Powder pink flowers had sprouted up from the sediment in a few places, blurring the edges of the otherwise scarce clearing. A dying sun was slowly sinking beneath the darkening horizon as I watched your grandfather bow to you, initiating the fight.
You tried a bombardment of quick slaps and a swift kick, which were evaded easily by your opponent. He wasted no time in his retaliation; a bold counter kick to the chest sent you stumbling back a few steps, but it wasn't enough to deter you. You ran to him, then dropped into a slight stooping position with your arms raised above your head, a poise I've come to recognize. Two low kicks brought his feet out from underneath him, and, grasping the advantage, you followed with an attack to the abdomen that looked as though it'd taken a great deal of energy to deal out.
Small clouds of dust levitated around your grandfather's feet as he slid backward with the momentum of the impact, though still standing upright. He made a comment about your patience being a fleeting compromise, but you discarded his warning and once again assumed the offensive, launching into the air and intending to land four kicks on his upper chest.
Your assault never connected, however, as his hands encircled your ankle and tossed you to the side with ease. Caught off-guard, you tumbled awkwardly in the dirt and forced yourself into a kneeling position almost immediately, although I could see the exasperation and anguish in your russet orbs from my hideout. He attacked without hesitation, this time a triple kick ending with an uppercut to the chin.
You should have seen the distraught look that crossed my countenance when I saw your jaw clench in defiance and your bottom lip tremble. I knew you wouldn't give up, but the smudges adorning your pale skin were deceiving.
He was going to hit you again; I saw his leg retract and wanted to yell to you but was well aware I couldn't.
You didn't need my aid, as it seemed; you noticed his ominous movements and balanced yourself on the heels of your feet. In a single practiced move, you jumped into the air and flipped over his head, landing behind him with refinement and kicking him directly in the spine. He doubled over with a low groan, his guard depleted.
You fell back into your fighting stance, expecting him to continue the training session, but he grinned weakly, saying you were beginning to find your strength, and turned, walking back into the house.
You stared after him for quite some time, your muscles slowly relaxing, the unyielding expression clouding your kind eyes gradually dispersing.
In that moment, Xiao, I came to realize why it is that I love you; not only because you're beautiful and optimistic, but because of your pure soul and your determination that never wavers.
I saw you kneel down and bury your face in your now sullied hands, dark hair falling loose over your shoulders like a mourning veil. I wanted to go to you then, to comfort you and possibly convince you that you were enough, at least for me.
Do you know it upsets me to see you so fragile?
Now, as I watch you struggle to stay awake, I think that this need I possess to speak to you is becoming a tad unbearable. I don't know how much longer I can go without hearing you laugh or seeing you smile from a closer distance.
One day soon, I promise you, you will be mine.
Don't worry, Xiao; you will be safe in my arms. Forever.
Your admirer.