Calamity Hoppers ~Reprise~

by Christopher R. Martin

Chapter 12 – Brother and Sister

The walls of fire continue to roar across the town in the wake of his wrath. Left and right, vehicles have been overturned, some of them set ablaze as a result. Everywhere he turns, there is at least one building that has been decimated. No one remains in this side of the town. No one except for him.

Amidst the chaos is the blue Woo Foo rabbit Yang, cloaked in a deep violet jacket that conceals his martial artist's gi underneath. Carrying with him his handpicked instruments of power: the Governor's Blade and the Woo Foo Grimoire. His eyes bear a vapid gaze as cold as the night sky, yet belie a blaze in him that is as hot as the towering flames around him.

He walks along the desolate ground and revels in the carnage, his repeated opening and closing of his fist in perfect sync with his heavy breaths.

"That oughta do it," the rabbit remarks, inhaling every bit of the demolished district. Observing it thoroughly.

In spite of the destruction he has brought forth, there are no actual casualties. Only injuries that range from minor to life-threatening. This rampage is only to make a point. To send a message to the masses. The Woo Foo Knight Yang that the people of this town knew has become so much more. Judging by how much damage was done, he rests assured that this message has been delivered and received, loud and clear.

He proceeds to the town's local park and assesses the pain that has been persisting in his right arm for some time now. This is the third wave today, and it shoots from his arm towards his body as quickly as the prior two.

"Ungh! Damn it," cries Yang in a pained grunt, clutching his wrist to diminish the hurt somehow. It seems to work, as the pain soon dwindles into a sensation that quickly dies away. For now… His breaths leave his mouth in an even and careful cadence as he brings his arm close to his chest. "Come on, Yang. Pull it together. You want this. You want this more than anything else in the world."

His thoughts start to stir in his mind as he says this reminder to himself. The warnings of his master Lupin rang clear in his ears. There is a price to be paid for harnessing something as forbidden as the power of Fog, the unseen remnants of the Infernal Beast.

Lupin had told him stories of the very few Woo Foo Knights who sought out strength like this. Of the even fewer who successfully took in the invisible substance, not a single one of them could subvert the untimely fates that awaited them. In exchange for this higher power, the sanity and morals of a person had to be relinquished.

Yang knew of the consequences and instilled them in his heart, which was why he had been given the option to turn back if he wanted. Even knowing these consequences and risks, the temptation was too strong for the rabbit child to resist. The desire to become stronger, better, to be recognized for his own merits instead of being measured up to his sister's and father's, had driven him down this path.

Yet little does the boy know that what his heart desires is the same thing that takes his heart away… With every waking hour that fleets by, he is pulled farther away from the light.

For him, however, no price was too steep, no repercussion too grave…

With any luck, I can still make it, I encourage myself to prevent that tiny little glimmer in me that I call 'hope' from fizzling into nothingness. Keeping my hold on my newly-acquired sword firm, I do not stop moving for even a fraction of a second.

Yang… Where could he be?

Dusk has already settled upon this town, evident in the now darkened skies. The streets are illuminated by only a few streetlights; the rest of them have been put out of commission during the skirmish that took place earlier – a testament to the strength that my brother now possesses. I have looked high and low for him, scouring every place that I am familiar with, and up to now, my search yields nothing. No luck whatsoever.

After practically running around in circles, I think that a short rest is in order, so I find the nearest bench to sit on and take a seat on it. During this short respite, I put into consideration every possible outcome and end up taking longer than I thought I would.

When I think about it, I suppose that Yang and I are both running around in circles. Maybe this large-scale attack is his way of provoking me into action. It's basically him saying 'come and get me' in as grandiose a way as he can. If it is, then it's working. And if it is, then I can only assume that he's out there somewhere, looking for me just like I'm looking for him. This could be just us being at the wrong place at the wrong time. We keep missing each other again and again, and we could be going at this and never reunite.

If that really is the case, then I'd be frustrated right about now. Actually, scratch that, I already am. I kick a nearby pebble off to the side to get some of that frustration out of my system, and I watch as it skids away to the nearest hulking flame.

"This is getting me nowhere," I groan, reclining across the bench with my legs crossed and my head resting against my paws. What used to be a sweltering determination is swiftly degrading into impatience. And that impatience in turn declines into discouragement, which itself would eventually become flat-out hopelessness.

It almost does, but one thing I do keeps it from going that far. I stare at my right arm, at the cheap, inexpensive bauble that dangles there.

"Step right up, ladies and germs. You know you want to. No one can resist this. I know I can't. If you think you've got the muscle, then there ain't no better opportunity to show it off than with a good ol' fashioned test of strength. Only five buck a pop. What do you say? Nothing ventured, nothing gained, that's what I say."

The town street fair, an annual event held during the first day of spring. Jam-packed with food, attractions and rides for people of all ages. So far, this year marked the twelfth time that this event was put together.

My brother, my master and myself were among the regular patrons of the fair, trying out every attraction that was on display, going on every ride we could and stuffing our faces with as much food as there was on offer. The latter applied more to Master Yo than either of us twins.

We walked amidst a dense crowd of people, the three of us. Attendance for the fair was plenty, but it wasn't anywhere close to the biggest. That record had to go to the tenth year, when the entire fair spanned more than three quarters of the town and almost every citizen was present and accounted for, even the adversaries we used to face in the past. Not to mention the plethora of activities that was available for everyone to do.

To the slight disappointment of most of these people, half of these attractions did not make a return this year. That didn't mean there wasn't enough for our family to do.

Especially considering that Yang had heard one of the management people hollering out to the crowd like the siren of an ambulance. He saw the man screaming about a strength test, and the second he laid eyes on the attraction, his eyes were set aglow. They showed that gleam people know my brother for. A gleam of determination. A gleam that said 'I've got something to prove, and I'm going to prove it, whether you like it or not'.

"Well, look at this," said the man as he leaned against his sign. "Aren't we the eager little go-getter? Wanna take a swing at it, kid?"

"Do I ever?" Yang answered, rubbing his paws together. "Let's do this."

I grabbed him by the arm and yanked him, unsure of what he has in store. "You're not going to use your Woo Foo to win, are you?"

"Now what makes you think that, sis?"

Our master inserted himself into our conversation whilst munching on a roasted corn cob. "Well, for one thing, you have that devious look on your face again," he stated in an unapproving manner. "The same one that's gotten you into trouble so many times before."

"You're saying that like I have some ulterior motive or something."

"Yang, I'm being serious," said Master Yo, speaking more as a father than as a master. Come to think of it, this year also marked the first time all three of us went as a family. "We've already had this discussion. Using Woo Foo for personal gain should be beneath you now that you and your sister are Grade Two Knights."

Yang rolled his eyes. He always disliked being patronized, especially by me. It was all the more reason why I kept getting a kick out of making his life harder than it needed to be.

To be honest, I would have too; our master wasn't one to talk, considering that he was guilty of the same thing back when he was young. At least, that's what I told myself. He wouldn't have gained this particular wisdom otherwise.

"Oh, please," my brother boasted. "Woo Foo or no Woo Foo, this is going to be a cinch. Besides, I'd be cheating if I were using my Woo Foo."

"Come on, people. I've got a business to run here," the management guy interjected, having watched our chatter since it started. "What's it gonna be?"

The determination now burning fiercely in him, Yang pounded his fist into his palm and grabbed the mallet resting on the strength test. He fished his inner pocket to retrieve some loose change to give to the man. "Here, that should be enough."

"You get one chance, kid. Make it count."

These words were embedded in my brother's mind as he brought the mallet up into the air and over his shoulder. All he had to do was slam that plank to send the metal puck rocketing to the top of the twenty-foot tower. Simple on paper, yet difficult in execution. As Yang was about to find out.

At first, he had some difficulty. He and the mallet were more or less of the same height, which automatically made lifting it hard enough. After a few seconds have come and gone, he did eventually keep himself steady and focused.

His strength gathered, he sent the mallet crashing into the plank. The puck rose higher and higher and higher up the tower. One foot. Two feet. Three. Four. Five. Six. I was shaky with anticipation; I honestly believed that Yang was going to hit that bell without the aid of his Woo Foo.

But it turned out that I was wrong. Eight feet. That was how far the puck had made it before it came crashing back down. Only two-fifths of the way.

The look in my brother's eyes could be summed up in one word: empty. Like something had been plucked out of it. Something that gave it the life, the spark, the energy, that kept him going. I didn't think I'd ever seen him this devastated, or was capable of such a feeling. He slunk to his knees, the mallet dropping to his side on the grass.

The next thing I heard were pounding noises from the earth beneath my feet. Yang was beating his paws against the hard, solid ground until they ached. I also heard his voice rising from a murmur all the way to a frustrated shout.

"Shit…shit, shit, shit, Shit!" The disappointment was crushing him, and soon enough it was crushing me, too. "I had it. I swear to God, I had it." He wasn't sobbing or wailing, but he might as well had.

At that point, I didn't have the heart in me to point at him, laugh and draw a crowd. It was bad enough that Yang's pride had been wounded, but I wasn't going to make it even worse. Besides, he already had that covered; he was starting to draw a crowd around us.

Speaking of pride, I thought to myself that his came from the fact that he and I were unlike other kids of our age. We were molded by the teachings of our sage and knowledgeable master and forged in the field of battle. Conflict was our whetstone, and the flames that it was engulfed in had tempered us. If Yang could overcome some of the fiercest enemies to emerge from this side of the world, then there was no reason that he would fall short in a mere high striker. There was no reason he couldn't hit that bell.

Rather than ruin whatever dignity my brother had left, I knelt down and put a paw on his shoulder whilst rubbing his back with the other.

"Hey," I said to him soothingly, softening my countenance. "You did pretty well. Don't beat yourself up over it." I went from rubbing his back to patting it, as well as his head.

"Tch. Easy for you to say," Yang rebuffed, averting his eyes away from mine.

The man in charge of the high striker stepped in, gazing down on the two of us. "Your sister's right, little guy," he said, aiding my brother back on his feet. "I don't get a lot of, erm… Ten? Thirteen? Fourteen? How old exactly are yo—"

"Twelve."

"Ah. Not a lot of twelve year-olds can make it all the way to six feet, let alone eight."

Yang sighed, accepting the man's words. They made him feel somewhat better, but they weren't enough to fully relieve him.

"Now then," the man continued, rummaging through the prizes that were up for grabs. "For your consolation prize. At least let me give you something for your troubles. What would you like?"

This particular pile was comprised entirely of bracelets. When the man had Yang that, he quickly cringed a little. To him, he wouldn't be caught dead wearing one of these. They were probably cheap imports in his eyes, and I supposed that they were. Between the obvious plastic and the rhinestones that patterned them, it was obvious even to the untrained eye. That didn't make them any less beautiful, though.

Yang had absolutely nothing to say, but eventually pointed at one bracelet with cerulean rhinestones on it. 'Better than nothing' is what I assumed was on his mind. Giving the man his 'thanks', albeit a dry one, he rejoined me and our master, and the three of us took our leave.

As we walked, he passed the bracelet over to me. "Take it," he said, trying to empty his mind for the time being.

"Huh?"

"It's yours," he added and tucked his paws in his pockets. "I'm sure you can put it to better use than I ever can."

I couldn't help but crack a grin. Whenever Yang went full-on 'brooding' mode, I knew beforehand what his intentions were. It only meant one thing. As rough around the edges as my brother was, no one could deny that he cared about those close to him. He may or may not be aware of it, but his attempts at hiding his compassion only gave it away.

Now that I thought about it, the fact that love was his single greatest emotion—greater than even sarcasm, rudeness or even moral outrage—no longer surprised me. It was only fair that I repaid it many times over, even if it made him uncomfortable. Especially if it made him uncomfortable; the world needed to see more of this Yang.

Bearing that in mind, I charged at him in an attack-hug and squeezed him as hard as I could. "Thanks, big bro," I said while wearing a large grin on my face.

Though I didn't have my eyes on him, I could feel him rolling his out of annoyance. Or was it embarrassment? "Just let go of me, sis. People are watching."

For the rest of the day, he kept on his aloof façade.

If I really do cherish my brother, if I hold him dear to me the way my master told me to, then I should be revisiting these memories more often. I should look back at them from time to time to make them last a lifetime, if not eternity.

Finished with my reminiscing, I direct my focus on the town, which feels incredibly dead. Deader than disco. With every townsperson fled to safety, I'm forced to make do with all this rubble, all this debris, and even the flames, as my only company. At this point, my brother must have already left.

Maybe I should call it a day for now and try again some other time.

Or maybe I won't have to wait…

In the dead of this town, I hear footsteps approaching from a distance. I hear them as clearly as I hear these fires burning. As audibly as the towers of water rocketing from where the fire hydrants used to be. They slow down as an apparition materializes in the emptiness.

This person appears before me as a shadow. A silhouette, made obscure by the blazing wall behind it. I make out what it is—who it is—from the shape alone. I fill out the rest of the details in no time. On a dainty, calculated saunter, I approach the figure.

It's him.

"Yang…" I say underneath my breath. As the name leaves my mouth and I draw closer, the rest of the features come into view.

It really is him. My older twin brother. He is as he was shown in the breaking news bulletin. In his hand is a gargantuan, hulking slab of a sword that is just as large as he is, maybe even larger. On his back is a deep violet sweater, with tufts of white protruding from out of the sleeves – his Woo Foo gi.

Lastly, I see the glimmer of determination glinting in his eyes. It's just as I have always known it as, driven by a desire to prove himself. Except now, it's different. I search those eyes of his for the compassion, the kindness that I know he can show. But the more I stare into him, the more I realize that these qualities aren't there. Or if they are there, they are buried many feet deep. And it would take a miracle to pluck them back out.

This is what comes with being persuaded into the dark. I would know that from my own experiences. From being pulled into the other side.

"Thank Foo you're alright," I say in as welcoming a tone as I can. Smiling at him so that I can ease him into a conversation. Bringing out the Yang I've always known may be a bit of a stretch, but I have to give it a try. "You really had me worried. You didn't give me and Dad a call even after you said you were. And I tried calling you, but that didn't do any good."

For a while, Yang doesn't seem to talk or do much of anything. He is unmoving. Silent. Still as stone. Then he lets out a guttural growl, and the first thing he says to me makes my very foundation quake.

"You…" It's as simple as that, but it's more toxic than any poison out there.

"Huh?"

"Why do you insist on being such a complete bitch?!" he shouts, baring his fangs at me.

"Yang!" I flinch, nearly letting go of Snow Flower in my hands.

Instead of answering my question, he ignores it and shapes his face into a glower. His fists tremble and he says to me coldly, "You just can't keep away, can you? Heh. Who am I kidding? You're always going to be the know-it-all between the two of us, and I'm always going to be the poor sap who takes your potshots up the ass. It's a cheap thrill for you. That's how it's been, and that's how it's always going to be."

"Yang…" I mewl, his statement siphoning my spirit from my system. I don't remember the last time I've seen him this mad. This angry and bitter. I don't know if he's ever been like this before. If this is only his first time, then I guess there's plenty more where that came from.

"For the record, I am sick to death of having to deal with your crap. I have always hated seeing you put yourself on a goddamn pedestal at my expense, and I've just about had it up to here with it. You might not have this figured out, so I'm drilling it into your thick, little, pretentious head!"

As my brother's talking, his voice builds up in volume. His utterance goes from a whisper to a soul-wrenching yell. And I think to myself that this can't be him. That this can't be where his chosen path leads.

Whether or not that may be the case, I am flabbergasted by what I'm seeing. What I'm hearing. "Yang!"

"Oh, gimme a break. 'Yang, Yang, Yang, Yang'. Can't you come up with something better?"

"What's gotten into you?!" I eventually snap back, preparing to draw my sword out of it sheath.

I expect him to answer this question, but he diverts his eyes from me and shuts them instead in a smug air. He stays this way for quite some time, and my prodding will not get him to talk.

Roughly a full minute has passed before I change up my words a little. "Are you still mad at me? Is that what it is? If so, why don't we just talk it out?" That time, I ease up my grip on my hilt.

Everything that my brother has said so far stirs in my mind, and that is the most immediate conclusion I can come to. That's where I arrive because it seems the likeliest one to me. That one afternoon, that one dinner, where my master and I had put him on the spot. Even if it isn't the only factor, I'm one hundred percent sure that it is a factor. That it does come into play for his decision to go down this road.

I can't say that I'm proud of making him feel this way. Of always being put on a pedestal, whether by others or by myself, at his expense. Pondering on this now, I'm more ashamed of them than ever.

After another half-minute of not hearing anything from my brother, I snap at him again and hunch down into a fighting position. "Answer me!" My eyes turn misty. Or they would have if I didn't suppress that urge.

Great. Of all the times I almost break into tears, it just had to be now. Did it really have to be like this?

Finally, he answers. "That's not what this is about."

"Then what is this about?"

Yang chuckles once, his lips curling into a sneer. "To put it simply, I've been set free."

He rolls up the right sleeve of his jacket and raises his paw up so that I can see the glove wrapped around it. It is black like leather and has something adorned on it. It appears to be some kind of mouth or a jaw, with fangs jutting out from both ways.

Something about this glove rubs me the wrong way. I can feel it in my bones. A voice in me advises me to run away. That this glove, whatever it's supposed to be, is bad news. But seeing where we are at this point in time, I might not ever get another chance like this again.

"Take a good look, sis. This is power," he says, clenching his wrist tight. "Power beyond your wildest imagination. And it's in the palm of my hands."

"What is that?" I say, doing my best to hold my ground.

"The Woo Foo Grimoire. What else?"

"'The Woo Foo Grimoire'?" That's odd. Last I checked, a grimoire is supposed to be a book, not a glove. And I don't recall something like this being an artifact in our martial art.

What I do recall is my master's tale about his former student, Lupin. How he was practicing a new set of moves he had learned one afternoon, and how it wasn't Woo Foo at all. Maybe this glove is identical in that regard.

I don't know for sure, and I already have a lot on my plate. Between my brother being persuaded into the dark, the stories about a student that our master had before us, this chaos around me, I'm only just able to process all of this. Any more, and I might collapse.

"Eh, don't make a big fuss out of it," states Yang, "Wouldn't want you getting worry lines now, would we? All you need to know is that I'm so much more than I used to be. I'm a whole new Yang, and it's all thanks to this baby right here." He swipes his arm downwards, his sleeve unfurling around it.

His words sink into my mind. "This can't be happening," I barely utter. I do collapse. To my knees. Overwhelmed by my brother's statement. Inside my mind, I'm thinking one thing over and over, rephrasing it several times.

This has got to be a dream.

This can't be real.

Somebody. Anybody. Tell me this is a mistake. It has to be.

Then, as if it were some rude awakening, I see Yang drawing his sword and his glove amassing what I think is a type of gas or fume. Though I don't know what's going on, it prompts me to get back on my feet and stay on my guard.

His weapons primed and at the ready, he gets into position and then says to me without a hint of emotion, "Oh it is, Yin. You best believe it. This is the real deal. Now let me show you how real. En garde, bitch!"

After hearing him call me a 'bitch' for the second time in ten minutes, I come to realize that this is the path he chose. That he has gone down it of his own choosing. It's all the more reason for me to bring him back. Still and all, the guilt for the things I've done to him persist. I'm not sure how or if it's going to get in the way.

With a fierce scream, he lunges at me, and I advance towards him, knowing beforehand of our ensuing violent exchange. Of the two of us meeting blades, trading blows in this battle.

A battle between brother and sister… A dispute that stretches past the boundaries of a typical sibling rivalry.

Most brothers and sisters tend to disagree with each other as often as they see eye to eye. It's just how it is. And all this bickering and arguing that happens between them just proves that at the end of the day, they will always have each other. They will still be siblings, now and forever.

But I doubt that there are brothers and sisters out there who have it worse than us. I doubt that their lives have ever been put on the line thanks to their disagreement. There may be people like that in the world, but I'm sure that there aren't that many of them. I wonder what those very few unfortunate people had to do, had to go through, to get themselves out of their predicament. I wonder what they had to give up to close the rift that separates them.

As for me and my brother, this one fight is a large enough window for me to see how wide the rift between us had become.

He and I trade blow after blow. Despite the weapons we carry, we don't rely entirely on them. The two of us exchange punches and kicks that rush across the empty air. Magic spells are shot back and forth between us. As fiercely as we deliver each of our attacks, they don't do any more harm to the town than what's already been done.

This battle has taken us out of our respective comfort zones. I think this is the most that I've ever made use of the might discipline of Woo Foo. Paws of Power, the Foo-nado, they are just a few of the skills that I employ. For what I used to believe was just dumb male violence, these techniques are taking a lot out of me just to perform them. Of course that's all because I hadn't given this side of our art a chance. I was quick to denounce them and stick to the side of Woo Foo that spoke to me louder. But still…

At the same time, I don't know if I should be pleasantly or fearfully surprised that Yang is more adept at the mystic discipline than I or our master give him credit for; blasts of fire, thunder and light shoot from his fingertips with the greatest of ease. And every spell he has used so far, he is in complete control of. The worst that can happen when casting Woo Foo magic is for one's focus to slip or be directed elsewhere, two things that Yang is guilty of on many an occasion. But here, he is as sound as he is when fighting with Woo Foo Might.

Our skirmish reaches new heights the second our swords come back into play. I draw mine from its scabbard and slash at him, but he guards himself with his. The size of his sword petrifies me at first, leaving me thinking how my own blade can ever be a match. But I had forgotten how sturdy Snow Flower's ice truly is. It is impregnable.

Not that it matters, because that brief bout of uncertainty costs me more than I expect.

Yang and I meet in a clash of our respective blades. We push against each other, and his eyes wash over my sword. His face is one of anger, then confusion, then curiosity, and last, amusement.

"Is that really…" he starts, scanning my sword thoroughly. He scoffs and curls his lips into a smile. "Yuki no Hana, huh? Well, someone's desperate."

I hold my ground for as long as I can, pushing against him with every ounce of strength in my body. I try to summon some kind of ice-based attack to ward him off, but Snow Flower does not answer me.

When that doesn't work, I break out of our clash and stick with what I know best. With what I've tried already. Every spell, every move that I've used before, I use again, switching them up swiftly in the chance that one of them might just throw him off. Out of those spells and skills that I try, none of them involve the manipulation of ice.

Our fight lasts longer than I anticipated. Longer than I had hope. If there is anything that I can use to my advantage, such as a wall that I can springboard off of or a hiding spot that I can squeeze under, I use it. But there's only so many resources that I can turn to.

Yang's right: I am desperate. Desperate to get him back, to make it out of here alive. That upper hand that I'm so futilely striving to get seems so far out of reach for me now. I don't even know why I'm still trying at this point.

The fatigue is starting to catch up on me, and I feel the full force of each of my brother's blows. Every punch, every kick, every slash and every magic spell he throws at me leave their mark. Lacerations are opening up on different parts of my body, oozing out drops of blood that gather rapidly on the asphalt. Each of these strikes serve as a glimpse into what this Woo Foo Grimoire is all about. What it really does, and why I should be scared out of my wits. These glimpses come together and assemble one great picture. A horrid one that I now wish I hadn't seen.

My newest attempt at an attack is a leaping roundhouse kick aimed for my brother's temple. He catches my foot, angles his own and then brings it across to my midsection hard. As the kick sends me tumbling across the ground, Snow Flower slips from my person and skids to the side. I reach for it even if it isn't working on me now. My eyesight is now painted crimson, as is half of my body. A heaping mix of dirt, bruises and blood.

Staring down on me with the eyes of a predator, Yang creeps close to me and unravels his glove. The mouth-shaped object on it opens up, as if it were an actual mouth. A miniature twister whips up above the glove and enters it in mere seconds. I gather what little energy I have left to sit up and behold the spectacle that's unraveling.

The mouth seals up, and Yang looks at me dead in the eye. He clutches his other hand over the glove and breathes several breaths. Right now, I pose no challenge to him at all. He's only toying with me. I can see that very clearly.

"So this is the Woo Foo Grimoire, huh?" I comment, barely letting it out amidst my injuries. One cut below my left eye starts leaking blood, and I hurriedly seal it off to prevent any more from coming out.

"That's only the tip of the iceberg. I've got one more trick up my sleeve," he says, grinning slightly and crossing his arms over his chest. He shuts his eyes and when he opens them back, the pupils are gone. "Woo Foo AURA!"

"What?"

That's all I say about this. Nothing more.

The earth shakes. I can hear the glove, this 'Grimoire', screaming. Literally. Like it's its own being.

Drawing strength from his glove, Yang arches his back as he yells the most recognized technique in all of Woo Foo. Mere seconds later, he is enveloped by a large, glowing, burning, rabbit-shaped image made of spiritual energy. Tendrils of fur protrude from its contours, and its eyes are stuck in a perpetual squint. Any action that he does, the Aura mimics to a tee.

A fraction of my strength returns, and believing that it's better than nothing, I get back on my feet and behold the display of sheer power before me.

The Woo Foo Aura. The trademark skill of our martial art, the epitome of Might and Magic becoming as one. Knowing Woo Foo inside and out is necessary to beckon this power, but it's only half the battle. In order to call forth a Woo Foo Aura, genuine emotion and complete control are required. One must have a clear-cut conviction, something that one is striving for with his or her heart.

The reason my first attempt at summoning my Aura failed miserably was because I didn't know what I wanted to use that power for. Protecting the environment was one thing, but I wasn't specific enough. Not only that, but I couldn't prevent that desire, and in turn my Aura, from getting the best of me. From almost taking my life.

Seeing Yang summoning his own Aura without my aid has got me thinking. All this time, I was under the belief that the only thing he wanted in the world more than anything else was a good fight. Something, someone, to hit. He loves the rush of the battle. He lives and breathes by it.

And this has just proven me wrong. How this Grimoire comes into play, I have yet to figure out. But I guess this proves that there's more to Yang than just wanting to satisfy his high. I know that he goes far deeper than this, but I never thought this deep. There is a conviction in that blue rabbit boy.

I guess it also goes to show that I know less about my own brother than I thought I did.

Some sister I am…

"Neat trick, huh?" Yang taunts. As he folds his arms, so does his Aura. "There's plenty more where that came from, but I think I'll save those for another day. Not that you're going to get another day, that is. What's the matter, Yinny? Scared?"

I cast my injuries aside, levitate my sword over to me and hold it by its hilt. "I'd be lying if I told you I wasn't," I say in between the groans that my wounds force from my mouth.

This Woo Foo Grimoire is something else, and it is frightening. I've never been this terrified. Such power, and it's injecting fear into my very core. I feel like I'm Pandora, and I've opened an entire box filled with wicked, unspeakable objects that the world isn't meant for. And these supposed 'other tricks' that Yang says he has under his belt, I don't even want to think about what they are.

As scared as I am, I can't let it hinder me. I have to make this encounter amount to something. I have to make it count. Whether or not it kills me, I'm going to bring my brother back.

Urging my battered body into an upright position, I hold out my right paw and channel a tiny ounce of energy towards it. That energy manifests into a small green pulse that I wave over my cuts and bruises. Gently I caress my paw across my body, and the pain is slowly dying off. It still hurts, but it will have to do for now.

I stare at my brother and strike my fighting poise.

Yang, standing at the center of his Aura, snickers at me. "Not giving up, huh?" he says, drawing his enormous blade, resulting in his Aura wielding its copy of it.

I'm a bit taken aback when he asks me this. He should know me by now; I can be just as stubborn as he is. My only answer to his question is to draw Snow Flower out, as pointless as it might be. I may not be able to use any ice-based skills or spells, but I can still use the sword itself.

Fed up with all the small talk, Yang points his sword at me and says, "See you in the afterlife, sis."

He dashes towards me, and our blades meet yet again. His gargantuan sword against my Snow Flower. I can't afford to make any more mistakes now; even the smallest of slip-ups will cost me the battle at this point.

Punch after punch, kick after kick, and spell after spell. I've more or less lost track at how long this fight has been going on. Yang is sure to be much stronger, faster, and more adept than I am. Now that he's called forth his Aura, the town is sustaining even more damage. Every hit that misses its mark is another sign that's bent out of shape. Another vehicle that's turned over. Another pothole created on the ground. At this rate, there won't be anything left of the town.

I have to end this somehow.

My sights set solely on my brother, I ready another spell in my hands. I pull one back and thrust it out. "Foo-lumination!"

The blast dazes him a bit, giving me the window I need to make a decisive hit. I leap at him, angle my sword and drive it towards the Aura's head. But it catches me before I can impale it. I try to break my sword free from its grasp, but Yang commands the thing to carry me close to him, and fear has now completely taken over me.

A chuckle passes through his lips, and they curve into a sinister smile. "Nice try, sis, but no dice," he mocks. He winds his other paw up and punches me with it, sending me flying, slamming into a building.

Some bones might have been shattered from the impact, I don't know. I guess not. I'm surprised I'm still alive after taking such a beating. A part of me simply will not quit. It stays valiant to the end. Maybe that's why I haven't died yet. Maybe that's why I'm still breathing.

Ungh! I can't get up… I can't even keep my eyes open. My consciousness is dwindling fast. I can see the darkness making its advances on me. My senses are deadening because of it. I just barely make out Yang approaching me with his sword in his paw. I barely see his murderous intent. And it's only him; he has dismissed his Aura.

Futile as it may be, I try to search him for any trace of the twin brother I used to know. I try to look past the killing instinct in his eyes and hope that I find something. A semblance, anything that reminds me of the old Yang.

But nothing's there.

Have I really lost him? Is this monster before me really him?

At times like this, where despair abounds, grace abounds even more to counteract it. I don't see any of that grace whatsoever.

Yang is now within an arm's reach of me. I brace myself for that final stab, for that finishing blow. Why can't he just get it over with already?

"Now then," he says, eyes dilated. He grabs me by the throat and lifts me up. "Time to end this." He readies his sword, and I close my eyes, my heart racing.

Something stops him at the last minute. A voice from out of nowhere keeps my brother from taking my life.

"Hold it right there!"

Yang wanders his eyes around to find the source of the voice. Another silhouette makes its entrance by leaping into the scene. Literally. He lands on his feet, holding his crouched position for a while, and then stands up. He makes his way towards us – a tall figure, punctuated by a long, flowing coat on its back.

I can't make out the face yet, but I think I have a good idea who it is. The canine-like traits give it away. The pointed, erect ears, the constantly flailing tail behind him, the long snout on his head.

As soon as he's within spitting distance of us and his identity comes into view, my suspicions are mostly confirmed. A wolf in his mid to late teens, his features fine and pronounced. Broad shoulders, a chiseled chest and torso, and a strapping face that's sure to win the hearts of many a woman out there. Hazel eyes are apparently a thing with the opposite sex nowadays. The scars across his body are just icing on the cake.

His putting his paw on my brother's shoulder seals the deal.

"Take five, Yang. That's an order," he instructs, persuading Yang to release me from his grasp and stow away his sword behind his person.

I flop to the ground and draw in as much air as I can. Some of my vision is restored, and I set my eyes on the enigmatic lupine standing tall in front of me.

"You're…Lupin," I barely manage to get that out.

"The one and only. That makes you Yin, correct?" My silence is all the answer he gets. "Your brother has told me so much about you. And I take it that old bastard you call 'master' or 'dad' told you about me. I mean why else would you know who I am?"

I can't put my finger around it, but something about the way he asked that last question strikes me as curious. There's a bitterness behind how that sentence was spoken. As if absolutely nothing in this world means anything to him, not even his own existence. As if merely living is a burden in and of itself.

Then again, being confined in a bottomless hole can turn even the most cheerful soul jaded.

"Please excuse my student," Lupin continues. "He could use a bit more refinement. But you gotta admit, this boy shows promise. I can't wait to see what sort of Woo Foo Knight he'll become down the road. Well, considering who his teacher is right now, I have nothing but high hopes for him."

His prattle about unlocking Yang's hidden potential forces me to try and get back on my feet. There are horrid thoughts aplenty in my mind. Thoughts of what he will become if he continues down this path.

Yet a small portion of me sees no point in trying to stop my brother from chasing after what's in his heart. If I do that, I'm sure he'll see me less of a sister and more of a nuisance. I would go ahead and prove this part of me wrong, but its words carry some weight.

But it doesn't make me less scared. If anything, I'm more concerned than ever.

What is going to become of Yang?

"Anyway, here," Lupin speaks once more, crouching down and waving a paw emanating a glistening green light over my injuries. A healing spell. It doesn't feel as potent as I expect it would be, but it's enough to get the job done. My wounds aren't aching too badly now. He stops casting the spell and stands back up. "Now that you're somewhat patched up, I want you to send your master a message. Tell him this specifically: 'the prodigal son is back'. And this time, I'm going to personally drag his sorry ass to hell."

Lupin's hazel eyes are razor sharp daggers that sink past my skin and into my core. On the tongue of these blades, these very words have been engraved. By the way that he's staring at me, he is sincere with his threat. I am the only way he can have these words delivered to my master. And if I don't, there will be consequences.

Behind Lupin's back, Yang gazes at the distances, his long rabbit ears flickering erect. "Ah, shit. Lu, I'm picking up police sirens again," he begins, looking over his shoulder. "Should we high tail it out of here?"

"Yup, right now," says Lupin without a second thought. With his back turned to me, he utters, "Until the next time we meet, Yin."

This time, these words aren't spoken by an unfeeling, homicidal maniac. They don't seem like it at all. I guess he has it out only for Master Yo. That might explain why he showed me mercy just now.

With his farewells bidden, Lupin makes a run for it, jumping up onto the rooftops and traversing each one of them. Yang follows closely, catapulting himself up there on the walls. They leave without a trace.

I need to get out of here as well, but somehow I can't. The pain isn't that bad anymore, so why can't I move?

I can hear the police sirens blaring from afar. The cars close in, their lights blinking, policemen hollering orders and affirmatives as they scramble into the scene. Among them, I spot a blur of black and white. It's impossible to make out who it is now, so I just go by the sound of its voice.

"Yin… Yin. Yin!"

The darkness closes in and succeeds in swallowing me, and I fall into the abyss. An abyss called unconsciousness…