Calamity Hoppers ~Reprise~

by Christopher R. Martin

Chapter 10 – An unhealthy vice

One week. That's all that's passed, yet to me, it's equal to an eternity.

Yang… Why aren't you calling us? Me? You didn't do anything to your cell phone, did you? You couldn't have done it, have you? What I feared you would do?

I'm always appearing strong to the outside world, putting on a brave face every time to keep everyone from worrying. But if only you could see the kind of toll this short amount of time has taken on me. I'm like a child who just had her favorite toy taken away from her. It just isn't the same. Not when I'm kicking that cockroach's ass for the umpteenth time, not when Lina and I hang out and talk about banal stuff—not saying you're 'banal' or anything—not when Master Yo's biting just my head off, nothing.

This is your choice. This is your journey. I get that. I know that you have to go it alone, but it doesn't change the way I look at any of this. It can't quiet my yearning. It can't deny how much I truly need you. Nothing can.

Sure we piss each other off, and we probably wished something about being an only child. Something about the other dropping dead or disappearing. I know I did; disgusting, huh? Yeah, yeah, it's unforgivable. But I can never mean that. You can grate my nerves for all I care, you can use my crayons for your crappy slideshows or picture books or whatever, but I can't wish any of this to you.

Yang.

My twin.

My big brother.

You told me that day that I was clingy. I didn't mean to sound like that. I don't know what came over me. I was just…mad. Mad that you might not forgive me. It's just that I cherish you more than anything. More than any earthly possession, more than any boy I get suckered into liking. That's because I know a sibling comes once in a blue moon. Or once in a lifetime.

So promise me. I doubt you'll get this, but swear to me. Wherever you are right now, whatever you're up to right now, please make it back.

These are my thoughts lately. Day in, day out. Corny, I know, but being away from my brother has hit me harder than I expected.

The school bell blares into my ears, nearly startling me to death. Nearly. Another day at the Woo Foo Academy comes to a close, and so does another week.

"And that'll do it for today. Until next time, everyone," I announce as the students leap from their seats and haphazardly dump their things into their bags.

A beautiful Friday afternoon welcomes the whole world with open arms, the sun practically smiling down upon this town. Not a single cloud looms in the skies, and the slightest hint of one is banished by the warm rays of light. It's too bad that this shine can't find its way past wood. Past the walls of this schoolhouse. There are no windows here, which makes it worse. It's almost like a prison in here. I've spoken to my master and father about this, and he said he'd make some renovations come the next semester.

Everyone's in a hurry as always. They all want to feel the sunlight on their skin, on their faces. Inhale the crisp afternoon air. Weiss is just as eager, but she takes her time, ensuring that she hasn't missed any of her belongings and have been put away neatly. She may be moving at a slower pace than everyone else, but it doesn't necessarily mean she's bothered.

After packing up, she approaches me at the teacher's desk. Flashing a smile at her, I say courteously, "Good job as always, Weiss."

"Thank you, Miss Yin," she returns, a flush surfacing on her cheeks. "But you're being a bit too kind."

"No, I'm dead serious." I clasp my hands together and rest my chin on top of them. "If only there was a way we could hardwire the other kids' brains to be more like you."

I say this as I look over yet another worksheet with a score of sixty-five percent, groaning in displeasure. Flopping my face on the desk. They're kids, I know—I am too—and they're supposed to be unruly, lively and unpredictable. And I don't mean that whole 'brain rewiring' thing literally, if at all, but at the same time I do wish they were more disciplined.

Weiss brings a finger to her lips and giggles. She pans her head across the room, in search for something. "I hope you don't mind my asking, but where was Mister Yang today? Is he sick?"

"Hm? Yang? Oh, he's fine," I say casually, mirroring her giggling just now. She doesn't know that I'm forcing the laughter out. "Something came up, and he had to go out of town. He should be back next week or the week after."

"Out of town?" There's concern in her voice, her question. "For what?"

"Just had to take care of some Woo Foo business."

"Is he going to be fine by himself?"

"I'm sure he will be. He's tough as nails, according to him, and I see no reason to disagree."

"Still, won't it be dangerous for a twelve year-old to be going alone? Don't you think he should have a grown-up go with him?" The last question is peculiar to me. Weiss is younger than us by four years. Hearing a sentence like that come from her of all people is rather funny, I have to admit.

I giggle a little at her naiveté, but soon cut myself short. I hate the idea of either me or my brother being alone, without each other when the need arises, but this is the path he chose. One that may indeed be necessary.

I put a hand on her shoulder, and she eases her frame. "You don't have to worry, Weiss. Yang and I, we've faced a lot of things. If there's anyone I know who can more than hold his own, it's my brother. Just trust in him"—the same way that I do—"and trust that he'll make it back, because he will."

"Alright. Alright, I will." Weiss nods at me, preserving her smile.

And at that moment, a car horn blares from outside, alerting the two of us. It must be her twenty-three year-old brother or her ailing mother in her family's station wagon waiting impatiently outside. The sound repeats itself three times and prompts Weiss to get moving.

"Oops. Gotta go. I'll see you next week, Miss Yin," she calls whilst dashing out the door and looking over her shoulder. A familiar cheerful air quivers around her as she exits the dojo grounds.

In a matter of seconds, I catch a glimpse of the station wagon driving on the road.

Now by myself, I grab a red pen from the desk and return to scoring the thick pile of worksheets on the side. I have to say, being a teacher is pretty fun. I enjoy the authority, the responsibility of a bunch of other children younger than me, the sense of worth from shaping them into something strong and proud.

But it isn't always easy. There are parts to it that are less than glamorous. At worst, I detest them. Grading schoolwork is one of them. While a good portion of these sheets are legible enough that I can make them out, the rest of them have unnecessary scribbles and eraser shavings that makes the process more tedious than they need to be. Then again, who said that anything in this world ever came easy?

Jeez, Dad. Don't you think this is something you should be doing? Or at least, would it kill you to help me out with it? I can only do so much. I'm no superhero. Ugh!

My frustration has me banging my fist for the first time in a long time. Soon enough, the rest of my emotions are about to flare.

No, no, no. I should calm myself. As a Woo Foo Knight, losing control of my feelings is the last thing I should allow to happen. I need to keep them in check.

Come on now, Yin. Take it easy and get a grip. Just remember to breathe. In and out, and through the diaphragm. Now take it from the top. It's just a bunch of papers. It's not going to take you the entire day. I mean, how bad can it be?

It's then that I realize that maybe it isn't the grading that's getting to me. Maybe it's the fact that Yang isn't here. The fact that he's been gone for more than a week, and I haven't heard from him since. Maybe I just miss him. What I would give to hear his voice. In my ear, not in my head.

I really should stop this. He did say I came off as clingy the day he left. Needy, to the point of obsessive. I need to stop. If I keep this up, I might end up giving mixed signals. People might think that my brother and I have something…more.

Ugh! Now I know I'm really messed up. Where on Earth did THAT idea come from?

The sound of the door sliding open reaches my ear, prompting me to sit upright. Lina enters the schoolhouse and makes her way towards me. I completely forgot. She and I were supposed to get a bouquet of flowers for Weiss's mother. How long was she waiting for me at the dojo? I'm betting a while because she stares at me waiting for me to get on my feet.

"Hey, Yin," she bids, sitting on the edge of the desk.

"Oh hi, Lina," I say back, finding out where I left off after almost passing out. "Real sorry to keep you waiting. This week's just been… Eugh!"

"I'll say. I think you've got a bit of a five o'clock shadow going on there," says Lina, obviously meaning for it to be a joke and chuckling.

"Gee, thanks for the concern," I utter dryly. "Sorry to be a complete stick-in-the-mud, but I've fallen a bit behind on grading these papers and I really need to get it done. Think you can wait just a wee bit longer?"

Asking her that was probably not the best idea I've had since she's waited long enough as it is. Thankfully she doesn't mind and just wanders around the schoolhouse, and I get back to work, like a worker ant among a colony of hundreds. She and our other friends aren't always around, so this may as well be like the first time she's been here.

As she inspects each nook and cranny and I write my feedback on the remaining worksheets, we share a bit of menial talk to make time fly faster. Our topics range from Lina's farm life, which has seen significant changes since she learned Woo Foo, to the most recent issue of Peachy Teen magazine. She even mentions the return of the metal beetle infestation that plagued her farm and how she was able to fend them off single-handedly.

Finally, I'm done with the last of these papers. And the best part is it didn't take me as long as I had feared. I'd say roughly twenty minutes at most. Putting the red pen back into its holster, I get up from my chair and slap my hands together, which snaps Lina's attention to me. I rub my hands and join her by the door.

She's somewhat annoyed, or even mad, at me. She doesn't say it, but her posture does. Fingers crossed that she can look past it.

"Sorry it took me a while, Lina," I say, sliding the door open.

"Not a problem," she replies, hopping down the steps. Hiding her frustration, or maybe suppressing it. We proceed past the dojo grounds.

"You cannot believe what I have to put up with. The handwriting of some of these kids, I swear. It's unbelievable, and not in a good way."

"Eh, what's important is it's done and dusted. Now let's hurry. No telling if the guy's already gone." At least she understands.

Lina and I are walking along the sidewalk, picking up the pace with each second. We keep our eyes open for a florist who comes by this part of the street once every two weeks. At this rate, we should still be able to catch up with him. And wouldn't you know it, there he is, at his usual spot, peddling his wares. Actually, he's just about to leave, packing away his things on his cart.

"Come on," urges Lina, sprinting.

From here, we can get to him in three minutes. But why wait?

"Wait. I've got a better idea," I call out to her, grabbing her by the wrist. Drawing my energy into my vacant hand. A burst of light blankets us in an instant as I shout, "Foo-portate!"

My spell transports us right in front of the cart and the florist, who strangely isn't startled by the flashing sphere of light in front of him. I guess he's seen enough Woo Foo to last a lifetime, like the rest of this town, that it's lost its surprise factor. He does get distracted from lighting up the cigarette in his mouth, which annoys him.

Lina moves towards the cart and sees what's available, while I do so a little farther away. My original impression on these flowers was that they were ordinary. Run-of-the-mill. 'Just another'. After a bit of convincing from Lina and paying an initial visit, I've been proven wrong. These beauties are second-to-none, clearly nurtured with proper care. The first time I took a look at them, I was taken aback; a single bouquet costs about as much as the allowance my father gives me. Since this is for Weiss, I can make an exception.

"Take a good look, ladies. Let me know what strikes your fancy," says the florist, trying to get into the selling mood despite being just about ready to leave. He does a good job masking his annoyance.

A second or two of browsing, and Lina decides before I do on what to get. She points a finger to a bunch of reddish pink flowers and green leaves on the left edge of the cart. She caresses one of the blossoms with the heel of her paw, her motions delicate. The care and ease in which she handles it makes me smile briefly.

"Ah, a fine choice, little lady. You can't go wrong with these babies," the florist states, moving to Lina's side. "They're perfect for any occasion. Baby shower, bridal shower, wedding, bachelor party, birthday, funeral, you name it, it will fit."

"Camellias. Tsubaki," she whispers under her breath. The florist might not pick it up, but my rabbit ears do. She must have picked it up from Yang's latest fascination with everything Japanese, from the language to that anime and manga thing, whatever they're called.

Thinking of the name once more has me seeing his face at every turn. I am unable to repel the thought of him. The times where I'm free of them don't last or are cut short. Something needs to be done about this.

"I think this is the one. Don't you think, Yin?" Lina faces me, awaiting an answer.

"Seems that way. How much, sir?" I fish my pocket for my wallet as I ask the question.

The florist takes the entire bouquet into his hands and pulls a drawer open, muttering audibly to himself. "One bouquet of camellias. Hmm. That'll be twenty-nine ninety-nine, thank you."

Lina and I flinch, astonished by the price. I guess it makes sense for flowers this beautiful to cost a good amount of money, but thirty dollars is a little much. We both pull out a few dollar bills from our wallets and count them up. She shows a ten while I show two twenties, one of which I had taken from Yang as some harmless prank. He might not mind that his money went to a good cause.

Damn it, there they are again. Why can't these thoughts just leave me alone for two seconds? Is that too much to ask for?

Okay, okay. I can make it through. I can survive. As long as I don't say or think of…you-know-who, this day will be over.

"Yin?" asks Lina, waving her hand over my face. I break from my second trance. She and the florist are looking at me with dumbfound expressions. "Think you can pay up already? The man has places to go to."

Sheepishly I giggle and apologize to the man. I turn the money over to him, ensuring that Yang's note remains in my hands. Waving the cash in the air at us and bidding his goodbyes, the florist saunters away, down the street.

Lina and I start the walk back to the dojo. On the way there, she brings the camellia bunch up to her snout and whiffs at them long and hard, sucking out their fragrance all to herself. She can't resist herself, and I can't resist laughing. You'd think that for someone who grew up at a farm, this wouldn't be anything new to her.

I inhale the flowers myself, my senses stimulated by the aroma. This could be what Weiss's mother—no, the whole family needs to cheer them up.

"I think I might leave some for Yang," Lina comments. Oh, crap. "I'm sure Weiss won't notice, and this'll be—" She carries on and on, and her words become less audible.

Yang… Why? No matter where I go, no matter where I look, I end up face to face with his apparition. All it takes is one fleeting mention, one passing comment, about him. I miss him, but only now have I thought about how much. Do I really miss him that badly? Am I as needy, as clingy, as he said I was?

I don't know. I just don't know… I hate being this confused. This lost. One whole week apart does that to a person, and not hearing from him makes it even worse. I want to get it all out in the open. I want to scream.

And that is what I end up doing, groping my head like a basketball, sealing my ears in some misguided attempt to stop the visions from appearing. My throat engulfed in flames, my mind releasing its own screams. Unaware of who's staring at me – the passersby or Lina.

"Okay, okay, I'll go look somewhere else and get my own," says Lina, annoyed. "Jeez Louise, there's no need to make a scene."

Rebounding from my outburst just now, I rub my head and sigh. "No, no, that's not it. It's just…" Inhale, exhale. Great. That's just great. Now I have to remember how to breathe.

"You alright, girl?" Lina touches my side.

"Yeah. I am. I think," I answer her tentatively, moving my fingers up and down my temples. Clarity arrives in my mind, and I reach a decision. "Actually, Lina, something's come up. Why don't you go and bring these over to Weiss yourself?"

"Not feeling well, huh?" She quirks the edge of her mouth, having noticed this all afternoon now. I nod my head, and she adds, "Migraines?"

"You could say that." I think a better word would be 'hallucinations'. Visions. Delirium. Any one of them will do.

Lina sighs, obviously disappointed. But I know better than to ruin my best friend's day over something meager. Something petty, something that will eventually go away. Then again, these…hallucinations won't disappear. Not for a while.

Rubbing my head for a few more seconds, I say to her shakily, "Sorry to do this to you, Lina. I could really use some alone time. Just make sure this gets to Weiss, alright?"

"And I can take some for myself?" Lina smiles at me cheekily, a dimple surfacing on her cheek.

I roll my eyes on her, alleviated temporarily. "Yes, you can, but no more than two." Gazing at the Camellia bunch one last time, I give her a quick embrace and place my trust in her. With everything said and done, I hurry into the dojo entrance.

Behind me, I hear Lina telling me, "Just take it easy, you hear me?" I cast an over-the-shoulder gaze at her smile, and I return her expression.

"I'll keep that in mind."

The two of us are then on our opposite ways, Lina to Weiss and her family, with the bouquet in her possession, and me towards the Woo Foo dojo, consumed, gnawed at, by my thoughts, my musings. Not exactly how I expected the day to turn out. I have to be out of sight. Somewhere where no one can see me losing my mind.

Fortunately, I always have the dojo to turn to. That should be a good start. But still, there have been times where this sanctuary was breached. Like right now.

I stride into the dojo, flying past my father sitting in front of the TV, and up to my room. I close the door behind me shut with my magic and spring onto my bed, where I don't resist the visages any longer and let them run wild. If I can just find something that will remind me of him, something that will give me the comfort of knowing his inevitable return…

I remain on my bed until seven o'clock later in the evening. Gathering myself, I proceed to Yang's desk, filled to the brim with his junk. Comic books, scrunched-up sheets of paper, pens, pencils, erasers and their shavings, it has everything and more. To the side are a notebook and a collection of scrolls sprawled in such a way that they're a part of the rest of his crap.

The topics covered in the scrolls are of the ancient Woo Foo weaponry – the Twelve Crystals and the Twelve Talismans, or the Kami no Gofu. The writings on the notebook are newly written and more specific, covering aspects like Woo Foo energy and the Infernal Beast. Some pages have been ripped out and are comprised of nothing but scribbles. They were made violently. They are a testament of my brother's anger. I carefully let out a breath at the sight of them.

I turn over sheet after scribbled sheet until I come across several that have drawings on them. They aren't mere doodles, they are articulate. Detailed. Yang's artistry sure has come a long way since that book he made back when he and I were six. The first drawing is of a dog, or a dog-like creature. Its hulking black body overlooks a small town, its eyes vacant and gleaming. On its maw are rows of fangs so sharp that they can tear through metal. After shifting back and forth between both sides of the drawing do I realize what this dog is.

The Infernal Beast.

Even without uttering those three words, they still cause a shiver to roll along my spine, scuttle across my skin. I have never encountered this monster myself, but it might be for the best that it stays that way.

At the bottom of the picture is one single word repeated ad infinitum.

Fog.

Fog.

Fog.

Fog.

Fog.

Fog.

It goes on until the very end of the paper, but it doesn't stop there. The following pages are filled to the brim with this one word, too.

This couldn't have been my brother's doing. It has to be a mad man. Then again, this is his handwriting. Rough around the edges, per se, but still with a feel of refinement.

At that moment, I realize that he really did do this. Protruding under the mountain of junk is one last page dislodged from his notebook. Gently I pull it out and see another drawing. It portrays a canine again, except this one is not on his all-fours. He's dressed in a brown long coat and a pair of white gi pants, and in one of his paws is a sword concealed in its scabbard.

Like the last illustration, the attention to detail is immaculate. Everything about this person is defined. His clothes, his ears, the erect strands of fur, his canine tail, his snout, the weapon in his possession, they're all clear as crystal. It's mesmerizing.

I recall Yang telling us before he left that he dreamt of a wolf person. That he was visited by him. That must explain how he could accurately draw someone he's never actually met before.

Another thing I remember from that day is the haunting look on my master's face during this conversation. The utterance of this wolf has drained the color from his eyes, left him stunned. It was brief, but the mark left was very noticeable. He looked like he'd seen a ghost. One that has sprung from his past all of a sudden, one with an agenda. A vendetta.

There is one last question that badgers me, but the answers to it arrive before I get the chance to ask. It appears in the form of a news bulletin that I hear on the TV as I head out of my room and down the flight of stairs. The anchor behind the news table announces the interruption of one of Dad's soap operas for an important announcement, which is no doubt being broadcasted throughout this town at this very moment. She warns of the graphic nature before proceeding with her report.

"What you are witnessing before you is an entire block in the main business district engulfed in flames and residents fleeing the area. Reports pouring in on the matter claim that these substantial damages are the result of a single individual: a rabbit boy dressed in a violet sweatshirt and carrying with him what appears to be a giant sword. There are currently no recent developments on the child's motives and reasoning behind his actions, but several townspeople have claimed him to be a quote-unquote 'Woo Foo Knight'. Local law enforcement has already dispatched into the scene and evacuated passersby within the vicinity, although they are unable to contain the threat. This is certainly a dark hour for our fair town, and government officials and the police commissioner has advised everyone to stay indoors until further notice."

As she delivers her report, the screen displays footage of a certain part of town that is engulfed in towering, roaring flames. Standing in the middle of the blaze is a figure holding an enormous sword, as the anchor described. Though it is nothing more but a silhouette, I recognize the image it bears on the spot.

But it can't be. It just can't be! The anchor did say that this was a boy, and he was a rabbit. So it must be him…

Yang. Can it really be?