Calamity Hoppers ~Reprise~
by Christopher R. Martin
Chapter 14 – Points of View
Yin
I'm by myself. Hunched in a ball. Eyes shut. In a place where time stands completely still. Who knows how long I've been here? It could be an entire day. A week. Maybe a month. There's no telling.
This is a perfect time for me to reflect on everything.
How the heck did I even get here?
…
…
…
That's right. I was in the heat of battle. My opponent was none other than Yang. He and I fought our hearts out. My brother was stronger than I had ever seen him. Knowing this, I still kept on fighting. My deepest desires, my most sincere ambitions, they were my driving force. But hoping and dreaming could only get me so far. They're not always the deciding factors in a fight.
As it turned out, they didn't get me anywhere at all.
And I lost because of this.
With a small, pathetic voice, I cry out. The words I utter are a window into my heart.
"Yang. Brother. Big bro…"
It's like what my master had told me. Something as precious as a sibling comes so rarely in life. And that if I really do cherish him, I'll never lose sight of it. If my conviction really is strong and true, then I'll hold on to it fiercely. Never once lose sight of it.
That is what I'm doing now. Words and thoughts aren't enough, though.
I spread my arms from my curled position. I open my eyes to encompassing darkness, reaching out to it. Envisioning Yang's face in my grasp. But I don't find him there. He isn't there. All the words that dangle on my tongue, the many things I mean to tell him, up and evaporate.
I really am pathetic. I can do nothing. One option remains. I heed it.
I shut my eyes once again and feel a teardrop pouring down my face.
…
…
…
"Yang. Brother. Big bro…" I mumble softly, extending my hands to who-knows-what. They reach upwards, falling for the tricks that my head plays on me. What I find weird is that I'm keeping my eyes closed throughout all of this. I don't know why.
While I'm grabbing to this imaginary object I'm thinking of, I hear someone calling to me. "Yin. Yin! Easy there." This person holds me gently by the wrist and forces my arms to stop moving.
Finally, I open my eyes. I awaken to a familiar room – our room, mine and my brother's. I'm on my side of it, which is laden with countless posters of the cutest boys taken straight from Peachy Teen magazine and of two-nicorns, mostly the leader of the majestic race, Rainbow Mane.
And as always, Yang's side is disheveled and hideous, characterized by all of the discarded clothing and underwear lying here and there. Ugh!
I get up from my bed, but not without experiencing a searing pain surging through my body. It stings everywhere. Were the injuries I sustained from the fight really that bad?
Maybe I went into this unprepared. I'm a cadet who's gone into the battle completely green and ill-equipped. It's nothing that extensive training can't remedy. I need to train ASAP. Push all of me past their limitations. My body, my mind, my soul and my spirit, everything. Until I do that, until I throw myself into a Woo Foo crash course, I won't stand a chance against my brother or Lupin.
I ponder on this too much without even noticing my father sitting right by my nightstand. He's holding a bowl and mixing its contents with a spoon. A fragrance wafts from it and stimulates my senses. It's the only thing he knows how to cook. Actually, it's the only thing I've seen him cook.
"You're finally up," says Dad with a mix of relief and despair.
"Looks that way," I comment plainly, rubbing my head to draw my thoughts in one place. I stare at the soup that he's stirring and take a whiff. "Smells good."
"Glad to hear it. I made it just for you, in case you eventually got back up." He rests the bowl on the nightstand, rubs his paws together and closes his eyes in meditation.
"What do you mean 'eventually'?" I ask with one eye squinted at him. I probably should have thanked him for the soup first.
"Oh, I forgot to mention. You've been out for one month. I was so worried that you wouldn't wake up at all." His words are heavy on him, as he struggles just to utter one.
A one-month coma… This can't be happening. For one month, the entire world has been moving forward, while I've been lying here on the verge of death. I must have missed so much this whole time.
Oh, who am I kidding? Of course I've missed a lot. From the end-of-semester examination at the Academy to a few major and minor current events to maybe even… No. I hate to think about it, but it might be true. I can't tell where Yang and Lupin are now at this point.
Why? Why am I so pitiful? Why am I so weak? So inadequate? How could I have let myself end up this way?
Fuming with anger, I punch the surface of my nightstand, which causes some of the soup to spill on my arm. That part of my body is burning, but the pain is only secondary to how frustrated I really am.
"Damn it!" I shout, just about ready to let the tears out.
"Hey, hey, hey," says my father, getting a grip on my wrist. "What's the matter with you?"
"Yang… He's out there somewhere. And I let him get away. Some Woo Foo Knight I am." Some sister I am. "If only I…" I'm too mad at myself to even finish the sentence.
Dad grips my wrist tighter and gets my attention. "If only what? You didn't stand a chance against your brother, and nothing you could have done was going to change that. You should count yourself lucky that you're even alive and breathing!"
"But I…"
I don't even know what I'm saying or what's come over me. Who am I? What is wrong with me? As much as I resist the temptation, a tear manages to find its way past my eyelids. It almost slides down my cheeks.
My master loosens his hold on me and puts his paws on my lap, getting me to look him in the eye.
"You need to calm yourself down," he advises me, consolingly rubbing my leg to alleviate my unhinged emotion. "Now, why don't we start by taking it from the top? Let's find out where you've gone wrong and then go from there."
I nod my head in compliance and retrace the entire night, explaining it to him as I remember it. It's a good thing that I'm lucid and I recall pretty much everything that's transpired.
Every part of my story is enough to cause raised eyebrows on their own. The mention of the Woo Foo Grimoire and how Yang is in possession of it rings a bell in my master, as he takes his sweet time deliberating on it. And when I tell him about what the artifact can do, about the power it has bestowed upon my brother, he's one step closer to figuring it out.
But he really starts paying attention when I bring up Lupin, his former student. As soon as that name leaves my mouth, there's a pervasive chill around the room that not even the soup can compare to.
"He came out of nowhere," I describe, tapping my fingers on my legs rhythmically. "I thought I was done for. But he didn't attack me." Even now, I'm still surprised at the mercy he has shown me. "He said he has a message for you."
"What did he say?" asks my father intently, moving closer to hear what I have to say next.
"He told me…"
Again, I hesitate then and there. There must be something else I can say other than those cold, hateful words I heard that night. Maybe there isn't. But I just don't have that in me. To tell my father that his previous pupil has a vendetta against him.
Master Yo rises slightly, his eyes digging into my consciousness. He says nothing and just expects me to tell him outright…
…which I do.
"He told me 'the prodigal son has returned'. That he is going to drag you to the deepest depths of hell."
My master relaxes his posture and rubs his chin, a burden falling upon him. Sooner or later, he is going to have to confront Lupin. Confront who he was. It'll be hard. Only one of two outcomes will happen, and neither of them will be a happy one.
"That's how it is, huh?" he says, sitting next to me. "I really am to blame here." This must be the second time now that I've seen him beat himself up like this.
It's here that I realize what I'm sure is only one of a handful of mistakes I've made since this crisis began. And that's taking the entire blame on myself. Going out there and fighting not just for my sake, but for the sake of my father, too. Purposefully forgetting that he too has a role to play here.
What a 'great' Woo Foo Knight I am, right?
I pat my dad on the back and manage to break out a smile amidst my aching body. "I wouldn't say that," I say, returning the favor for his consoling a minute ago. "I'm not exactly the world's best sister or anything. Maybe…"
"Maybe what?"
"Maybe this can be a fresh new start for us. We should probably try looking at it this way."
Dad smiles back and rubs my head, rustling my rabbit ears. "That's more like the Yin that I know," he comments, getting up from the bed. "Now let's go. We have a lot of training to do before we're ready to get back out there."
I too get on my feet. "Really? Right now?"
"Yeah." My master looks over his shoulder before turning around. "Is something the matter?"
"No, everything's fine. It's just… I think we're more than ready now, don't you?"
As if he'd heard the most outrageous joke spoken by anyone, Dad raises an eyebrow and walks slowly towards me. "Are you hearing yourself, Yin? Did you really just say that?"
"Well, we already know what we're up against, and we've fought many dangerous people before this point. How is this going to be any different?"
For some reason, these words don't feel like they belong to me. I guess they don't. Even I am surprised to hear myself of all people say such a thing. Outright avoid training? Did I hit my head against a hard surface?
Then, my father crosses past my bed and picks an object up from the ground. He shows it to me. Snow Flower. Yuki no Hana. The Woo Foo Talisman that I brought with me to battle. I can't believe I forgot about it. Phew. I'm glad that it's safe and sound and not in anyone else's possession.
But I don't get it. I don't understand why he's showing it to me.
Dad moves even closer to me and unsheathes the blade, bringing it towards my eyes so that I may look at it. I observe every inch of it, every bit of its anatomy. Its crystalline finish, the felted hilt, the sturdy scabbard that keeps it from gathering rust.
In about fifteen seconds, it hits me. I'm not just looking at my weapon, but at my reflection. My present state – disheveled, battered and beaten, bones and muscles aching. Unable to discern what's right and what's wrong. I don't blame the sword for letting me down the way it did. The fault is all in me, not in my weapon.
All I wanted was to get my brother back. But underneath that determined pink rabbit who scavenged an ancient Woo Foo treasure was a desperate, frightened, lonesome little girl. A miserable wretch of a rabbit who doesn't even have the slightest clue why she's doing what she's doing. Why she wants what she wants. She beseeched her big brother not to leave her side. She hated to see him go. Every day without him was suffocating her. She was losing her mind. She needed him to such an unhealthy degree.
I hate her…
"Yin," begins my father, his voice sacred as the blade in his hands. "I know how badly you want to get your brother back. I know that you mean it word for word. But we can't afford to go out there in our current condition. You barely made it out the first time, and I refuse to let you make this gamble again. We need time to get ready, which is exactly what Yang has done and why he is where he is now."
Time… As that age-old saying goes, we have all the time in the world. If that were really the case, then there's no reason we should be in a hurry. Unfortunately, it's not true. It never is. It's an illusion. A sad, little lie used to soothe people. No amount of rationalizing can convince anyone otherwise.
But that could be just me being impatient. Me always in a hurry to have things my way. Yet another part of me I totally despise. Another part of me that I want to wipe clean.
I hesitate putting my paw around Snow Flower's hilt, my breath more labored now. If I touch this sword, then that means I'm agreeing to my father's order.
"You can be as strong as your brother has become…with enough preparations. Trust me."
It's so embarrassing that there's someone else who knows me better than I know myself. Way to go, Yin. Way to go.
He and I stare into each other's eyes for a while before I take hold of the sword. A heavenly sound knells from inside the crystal blade, feeding me with power. I feel my heart and mind being stimulated and the aching across my body gradually dissipating.
Master Yo releases the sword so that I may carry it on my own. I take my time to get used to the weight and finally put it back in the scabbard, my renewed will reflected in my determined gaze.
"Let's get started," I say to my teacher, gripping the scabbard tightly.
"That's the spirit." He doesn't waste any more time and leaves the room.
But a thought occurs to me and I remain behind. Dad stops between the door and the doorframe to see what the fuss is about.
"Actually, something's come up that I need to take care of," I say. "I'll be with you in a minute."
"You got it." Then he's gone.
I then scrounge my whole side of the room, searching the closet, the nightstand drawers and even underneath my bed. It has to be here somewhere.
Buried in a discarded pile of my clothes is a smooth, hard item that I fish out quickly. My cell phone. Glad I didn't lose this, either. Although I could do without the residual smell. At least it's still working and surprisingly hasn't run out of battery after one whole month.
Actually, I just notice now the charger plugged in on the power outlet. I take it that Dad's taken good care of my phone this whole time, except for the whole 'buried in dirty clothes' part, of course.
Anyway, moving on. 'There is strength in numbers', as people often say. I dial away on the touch screen and prepare myself for multiple calls.
It'd be a disappointment if I hear even one of these people say 'no' to what I have to ask. I expect everyone I call to comply with me.
No questions asked…
Weiss
"Alright, you guys, settle down. Take your seats."
The whole class obliges to Miss Yin's command and sits on their respective desks, putting their collective chatter to rest. Once I'm seated, I observe her intently as she walks towards the front of the schoolhouse.
It may not look like it, but there's something different about Miss Yin. She seems like she's off her game. It's been that way ever since she got back. She doesn't say a word about it to any one of us. I don't think she's said a word about it to anyone, period. I wonder if it has anything to do with Mister Yang going AWOL. Which could explain why she looks like she's on medication lately.
Even if she hasn't brought her situation up with us, it doesn't stop my classmates from talking about it amongst themselves. Behind her back. And since she isn't letting us in on it, they see no point in letting her in on what they're talking about either.
I don't involve myself in any of the gossiping, but I'm still concerned. Mister Yang being away for a week or two is one thing, but more than a month of being absent? I think that's as good a time as any to start worrying.
What is going on? Is there any way that I can help? It's a bit of a stretch, but a part of me is egging me on, reminding me not to sit idly by when something out of the ordinary crops up.
"Today's the day, you guys. The day that you all get your examination results. Sorry it took a while, but there have been…complications. At any rate, here they are."
As she says this, she picks up a mountainous pile of paper on the desk and strides from desk to desk, from row to row. Distributing each test paper one by one.
That would have to be the first and maybe only time that she makes any mention of what she's going through. 'Complications'? Heh. That's putting it lightly. Even some of the other students think this, and have begun their murmured conversations anew. Miss Yin easily spots them, though, and quickly puts an end to them.
Putting these musings aside for now, I focus on my own agenda.
In about two days' time, this semester here at the Woo Foo Academy will be over. What awaits all of us now is two weeks of well-earned rest and relaxation. Some time to recover from the countless hours spent on schoolwork, some time to catch up on what may have been missed in such a long period of time.
"Now I'm well aware that you guys are excited for the upcoming break. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't," says Miss Yin, drawing closer to my row. "But I advise that you set aside some time to revisit the topics that were covered this semester. If not for me, then at least for yourself."
I can hear her voice coming directly from behind now, which means that she's a few steps away from where I'm seated. For those who've yet to receive their papers, the suspense is killing them. Including me.
Unlike my peers, I suppress the anticipation and force it out of my system by breathing in and out. They like to say that I'm shy. That I'm 'reserved'. That I'm hesitant, always waiting for something to happen instead of making the first move. Even now, I can hear one, two, three of them talking about me in their murmurs. The quiet ones are always the ones they set their sights on. They can say what they like, and I'd say that these claims are true for the most part.
But they have no idea that the quiet ones more often than not end up on top. And if there's one thing I'm not afraid of, it's this exam.
Mister Yang told me that I need to look ahead. That I need to see every outcome. Find the brightest one and seize it with everything that I have. These so-called quirks that my peers keep mentioning, they're just setbacks. Dedication and hard work are what really set us apart.
If my teacher's words are to be believed, then the score that's written on my test paper will be all the proof I need.
Before long, I open my eyes and find it lying flat on my desk before me. I feel the soft touch of Miss Yin's paw behind my head as she says to me, "I've got high hopes for you, kiddo. Keep up the good work."
I want to smile at her, but the best I can crack is a faint, indiscernible semblance of one. She moves to the next row, but not without giving me a brief glimpse of a strip of white wrapped around her abdomen.
Taking a deep breath, I turn the sheet of paper around. The air comes rushing out of my mouth just as fast as it came in…
Everyone in the schoolhouse is antsy, completely restless. Hyperactive in some way, shape or form. They're either drumming their fingers on their desks, tapping their feet on the floor the way a tap dancer does or gritting their teeth like a saw.
Once the school bell rings, their hyperactivity stops and is replaced by their combined cheering, their hurried packing away of their belongings and their thunderous footsteps carrying them out the door.
"Have a good holiday, you guys," says Miss Yin in a cheery wind, smiling at each and every one of her students.
While my classmates are racing out the door, I, on the other hand, take my time in putting my stuff away. My pencil case is the last item to fall into my backpack, and I then take my leave, but Miss Yin halts me in my step and asks me to approach her at the desk.
"Always the last one out," she says with a smile, taking on a casual tone. "Aren't you, Weiss?" Her question is met with silence. Picking up on this and the waning fragment of a smile on my face, she then shifts to a different topic. "Everything alright?"
"I guess so." That's the best I can say right now; I know exactly what she wants to talk about, but I wish that she hadn't brought it up.
She leans forward, a little over the desk, and gently puts a paw on my arm. "Hey. Hang tough. And if there's anything you ever want to talk about, I'm all ears." One of her ears flops to the side and makes contact with her free paw. Noticing this, she retracts the paw she's holding me with and fixes the ear up. "So to speak."
"Thanks, Miss Yin," I say, my voice never rising in volume.
"Come on, Weiss. There's no need for that. Outside of classes, it's just Yin and Yang. Got it?"
"Okay…Yin," I say, her comments actually getting a chuckle out of me. Referring to her and her brother simply by their names, without any titles to go with it, is going to be a bit tricky.
I'm about to turn tail and take my leave when it suddenly occurs to me. No reason for me not to bring it up now, right? And if she wants to be involved in my life, then that gives me the right to be involved in hers.
"Actually, there is one thing I've been meaning to ask you. If it's alright with you, that is."
"Fire away." Yin shrugs and rests her arms on the table.
I relent a little beforehand, unsure of whether or not this is a good idea. I quickly sort myself out, though, and just go through with it.
"When is Yang going to be back?" I say without feeling an ounce of regret. "It's been over a month now, and to be honest, I'm more than concerned."
That was a lot simpler and went so much easier than I thought. As simple as my question was, it freezes Yin in place, leaving her thoroughly thinking about what to say next.
"It's…" She seals her eyes shut and takes a breath. "It's hard to say. Woo Foo matters can be easy or they can be complex. They aren't always taken care of overnight." No. They're never taken care of overnight.
Oddly enough, that answers only a small fraction of my question.
"Aren't you worried at all? Like, shouldn't anyone in the dojo be doing something about this?"
"Well, I am worried about him, but at the same time, I'm not."
"What?"
Even Yin seems to be confused by her own answer. "I'm worried because that's what siblings are supposed to do. And at the same time, I'm confident that he'll make it back. My brother's many things, and built-to-last is one of them. I know him just as well as he knows himself."
"I see. Alright…"
Hearing her say that makes me feel relieved. Somewhat. But I still feel that there's more that can be done. If only I can lend a hand in some way or another.
Yin stands from her chair and makes her way to the door, but on the way there, she staggers on each step. Not only that, but her right arm is constantly pressing against her midsection. The strip of white that I saw wrapped around her two days ago comes into view. The closer she moves to the doorway, the more I see the red tinges along the strip.
I think I have a good idea what it is. And after seeing her completely lose her footing, I confirm the idea.
Urgently I race to her side. "Yin!" I cry out as I guide her on the way with both of my paws, never letting go for even a split second. "Are you alright?"
Yin groans, still holding on to her midsection, to the bandages that cover it. Her entire body bogging down on me like some kind of marsh.
"I'm okay. I've had worse than this," she says. How can she still crack a smile with all this bleeding?
"I doubt that." I manage to bring her to the door and prop her gently on the frame.
"Really, Weiss. I've got it completely under control." Yin's right paw glows a deep green, and she waves it over her wound. The red blots on the bandages lighten a little, and her breaths aren't as haggard anymore. "See? It doesn't sting anymore. Nothing to worry about."
About three seconds after she says that last sentence, we hear a car horn honking from outside of the dojo grounds. The sound blares at a rapid pace, as if the driver inside is in desperate need of attention.
When I realize who the person behind the steering wheel is, my sense of urgency kicks in.
"Oh my gosh! That's probably my brother," I exclaim as I leap down the small staircase and hurry across the front yard. "I'll see you after the break, Yin!" I wave goodbye at my teacher and return my focus to the path ahead.
"Take care of yourself, kiddo." Yin waves back at me, her smile not fading in spite of her injuries.
As I'm making my way out of the dojo, the honking horn gets louder and louder. I enter the station wagon to an irate fox with fur that's slightly darker than mine sitting at the driver's seat, impatiently drumming his fingers along the steering wheel. He and I exchange a look through the rearview mirror, and I hear him sigh deeply.
"Jesus. Took you long enough," my brother grumbles as he fastens his seatbelt. "What the hell was the holdup?"
"Sorry. I was just saying bye to my teacher," I say in response, hurriedly tossing my backpack opposite of where I'm seated and buckling up too.
"You spent fifteen minutes just doing that? Gimme a break." He revs up the engine, and he does it aggressively. "If you were going to waste time, the least you could have done is let me know. I've been calling you over and over, and I get nothing. Did it occur to you that maybe you had a cell phone in that backpack?"
"I already said I'm sorry. What more do you want, Tyler?" I exclaim to him while slowly pulling out my phone from my bag's smallest pocket. The screen flips on to reveal five missed calls from my brother.
This conversation is going nowhere. Both I and Tyler realize this, and he just sighs and starts the car. As we drive out of the curb and into the road, I gaze out my window and let my thoughts roam around me for the time being. My reflection projects an absent, detached look. Breathe in, breathe out.
When I think about it, I can't really blame Tyler for being this high-maintenance. Being the man of the house, the man of the family, isn't exactly what you'd call a walk in the park. Keeping this family together, putting food on the table, clothes on our backs, he has a lot to take care of. The role used to belong to our Dad, but he told my big brother that one of these days, he was going to take the reins. And that day has come. Though he probably wishes that that day hadn't come this early.
With so much on his plate—a plate that's hardly ever empty—it's no surprise that he has to let off some of that steam.
"Hey, Ty?" I ask sheepishly, twiddling my fingers in play.
"Hm?" All he gives me is a fleeting glance through the mirror.
"About Mom… You think she's going to be alright?"
"I don't know. It's hard to tell with her. Of course, when cancer's involved, you can never be too sure. Anyone who makes it out a-okay can go ahead and call themselves one of the luckiest people in the world."
Tyler's words then and the tone in which he says them, it makes this whole situation seem hopeless. Well, more hopeless than it already feels. It doesn't and will not stop me from holding out for that light at the end of the tunnel. I'm not going to accept things as they are. There have been great strides in combatting this horrid, deadly disease. Surgery, medicine, chemotherapy, you name it. So what reason do I have to just put my hands up in surrender?
Somehow, someway, our situation will get better. My mother will get better. This much, I'm certain on.
"I hope she's one of those people," I mutter to myself.
The sentence manages to reach my brother's ears because I hear him say, "Me too, sis."
We say nothing else for the rest of the car ride home.
Soon we arrive at a quiet little suburb outside of town. The houses are lined up on either side of the road. They are arranged so uniformly that they come off as boring. Even the cars are all intricately organized. Almost like this place were a playset.
The car parks at our driveway, Tyler shutting the engine off and pulling the key out of the ignition. I scramble out of my seat, grab my backpack and saunter across our lawn, briefly immersing myself in the fresh cut grass. At the door, I fish for my key and a pair of earbuds to plug into my phone. Carefully I insert the key, and the hickory door opens with a twist of the knob.
I glance over my shoulder and see Tyler fetching something from the trunk. Going inside, I hang my backpack on one of the hooks to my right and proceed into the hallway, my steps cautious. Before moving any further, I stop and search for a song to play on my phone.
With my gadget firm in my paw, I head up the staircase in front of me. To my immediate right is my mother's room. I expect her to be inside…
Unsurprisingly, I find her there, and in bed to boot. My mother, Miriam. A middle-aged fox whose complexion is as arid as a desert. She must have just returned from her chemotherapy if she's lying in bed at this moment.
Stomach cancer causes noticeable problems. Her abdomen stings frequently, and there's never any indication as to when it'll happen. Eating becomes a chore in and of itself, which forces me or Tyler to chop up her food into pieces so small you can't see them at all. Okay, I might be exaggerating on that bit, but you get the point. And that's not even going into the dizzy spells and regurgitations. I'd say seven times out of ten she has to hold her paw against her head or run to a trash can or toilet or sink to throw up.
In the three months that she's had this disease, these symptoms have gotten progressively worse. I wonder if the trip to the hospital has actually helped.
But the question is, what about the other problems?
"Hey there," Mom greets, her utterance as dull as her expression.
"Hey. How was chemo?"
She groans at the mention of the word. "Don't remind me. I feel like a science fair project." A statement like that is supposed to be funny, but she says it repulsively that it prevents anyone from laughing. Not that I would.
"You feeling okay?" I ask her, approaching her on dainty feet.
"Oh yeah, I'm feeling much better," my mother remarks disdainfully. "By the way, where's your brother?"
"Still at the car, getting something, I guess." I shrug at her.
Mom lets out a groan the next second and rolls her eyes. Is being a prima donna another symptom of cancer or is it just her? I can't tell which of them is true.
"Goddamn it. He just picks the worst times to be useless, doesn't he?" She sits up against her headrest and buries her face in her paw.
"Take it easy on him, Mom. He's only one person."
Letting out a sigh, Mom looks away and comments, "Sure. Do me a favor, sweetie, and get my smokes from the nightstand."
I flinch where I stand, trying to process what I just heard her say. I want to make sure I'm not hallucinating. But I wish I were.
"What?" I exclaim, taken aback by her request.
"Did I stutter?"
"I thought you wanted to get better. What do you want me to get your cigarettes for?"
Her answer is snappy and feels like being struck by a whip. "Don't you give me any of that backtalk, little lady. When I tell you to do something, you do it. Do you understand? Try not to be your brother for your sake. Now gimme m' damn cigarettes, like I asked."
Fear has a firm grip on me and urges me to just obey her for now. I make to the nightstand adjacent to the door and dig my hand inside, pulling out the pack of cigarettes from inside the drawer among the perfume and cologne bottles and the hairclips and tweezers caught in between them. With a little bit of hesitation in me I hand the box to her, secretly hoping that she'd reconsider.
She doesn't.
She pops one in her mouth and takes the lighter from the other nightstand, firing it and the cigarette up. Amidst the coughing and wheezing that follows, she slips out one last snide comment to hammer it home.
"Tell me what I can and can't do with my body, will you?" she says, as if she wants me to hate her.
For all her efforts and all the times where I'm tempted to despise her guts, I can never bring myself to. At the end of the day, she's still my mother. She's the one giving me and Tyler a roof over our heads, putting clothes on our backs, food on the table and allowing us to study. I can't bring myself to throw that all away, even if she's unknowingly doing it herself. The more I try to repair things, the more I try to patch up the holes in this family, the worse it all seems afterwards…
Behind me, I feel my brother standing by the door with three plastic bags dangling from his paws. His eyes, his face, they're empty. They're hollow. Devoid of color. Of anything. How long has he been standing there?
Not that it matters to him or Mom, since he just takes a step into the room and shows himself to her.
"Got the groceries done, Mom," Tyler reports, lifting the bags into the air a little for our cranky mother to see. From one of these bags, he pulls out a cylindrical container and tosses it for her to catch in her paws, which she does. There are labels on every side of it, with a bunch of medical names that I can't pronounce for the life of me. "Doc says it should keep those cancer cells of yours in check. He also says you should take two a day—one in the morning, after getting up from bed, and one at night before going to bed."
Mom inspects every edge of the container, flipping the lid open and peeking her eye in it. She takes one capsule and inspects that, too.
"You got that?" asks Tyler, the chill in his voice making this cold and icy room colder and icier.
To Mom, the details he gave to her must have flown over her head. Her response to my brother's question proves just that, "Yeah, sure. Now go take care of the rest of that stuff, will ya? Both of you."
Tyler says nothing and just carries the groceries down to the kitchen. I help out and carry some of the load, putting the plastic bags on the dining table. I put every single item where they should be, moving back and forth between the table and the pantry and the refrigerator.
I take the opportunity to give my Woo Foo magic a try. To see how far I've come. I start by levitating a watermelon—not the best idea, I know—and setting it down just beside the sink. The film of beige-colored magic vanishes from the thing, and I am leaning against the table catching my breath. My pulsating heart pounds against my chest, and my head is overwhelmed by the exertion it has put into making the spell work. I pass a glimpse at my paws, and they're both still coated in Woo Foo energy.
Where I am now as far as my studies in the art goes, I'd be lucky enough to not completely pass out. My first time giving this power a try, that's exactly what had happened. But that's what I get for trying, for even thinking, to make a coffee table float. Everything beforehand had turned into a blur, an indiscernible smear. I didn't know where I was, what the time was, my brain was no better than an egg on a frying pan.
It took Tyler and one other member of my family to wake me up. I don't think I've ever seen my big brother scared witless. He was swearing, asking me question after question, so quickly that I had no chance to answer. But the most striking out of all the things he told me that day was his comparison between me and Mom.
Back then, I hadn't realized why I pushed myself the way I did. I was inclined to believe that I was just like any other kid. That I was so eager to learn. Aspiring to become something more, all in a short amount of time.
But that's not the only thing I'm eager about. I'm also eager to end this cancer that's afflicted not just my mother, but this family too. I'm convinced that I'll find what I'm looking for if I unravel the secrets of Woo Foo for myself. Somewhere in this age-old art is what I want. What I need. And I've gone too far down to turn back now.
As for that other person…
The groceries packed away, I head over to the glass door and exit to the backyard. There I see an old fox on a rocking chair, watching over the grass and a flower bed sporting a fine collection of flowers. She's unlike the rest of us; whereas I, my brother and my mother are arctic foxes, she is a red fox. The outer parts of her fur are a lighter variation of red, and her arms and legs are black as ash. Merely thinking about her causes the strife, the worry and the misgivings in me to melt away. For the most part.
Eagerly I approach her and greet her as I always do.
"How's it going, Nana?" I say to her, affecting a brave face for her.
"So far so good. And how was your last day of school?" Nana replies, caressing my face.
"Pretty good. Sorta."
"And by 'sorta', you mean…what? 'Finally, I thought it would never end!'" She exaggerates the phrase with gestures of her paws. "Is that it?"
"No, that's not it. And it's not really the 'last' last day. But yeah, Woo Foo's actually pretty cool when you get down to it."
"Well, if you're having the time of your life, then who am I to complain?" she nuzzles her snout against mine and pinches my chin.
Nana's the sort of person you just want to be with, no matter who you may be. You can always count on her to make a dark situation just a little bit brighter. Unlike a lot of people who smile just to get by, nothing about her smile is artificial or made up. You might be asking yourself if Nana is her real name. And no, it's not. She has a name, but we prefer to call her something more proper. Besides, I don't like how it sounds coming out of my mouth.
"So what have we got today?" I say, slapping my paws together and rubbing them vigorously.
Nana passes to me a pair of gloves and a watering can, which I use to sprinkle each flower, each stem and mass of petals. As I reach the other side of the flower bed, a small yet potent glow washes over me. A bright, pure, warm feeling makes itself known, and I'm almost hypnotized by it.
Removing the gloves and setting the watering can down on the ground, I inspect the source of this illumination. It catches Nana's attention as well, and she stands up from her rocking chair and joins me.
"What is it?" I say to her. It's hard to tell where it's coming from with all of these flowers in the way.
Nana searches the bed and points to a certain blue flower over at the leftmost part of the bed. The glisten on its petals make it seem like they're made of crystal. Its very core, abundant with pollen. "There."
"Oh, my gosh. Would you look at that?"
"Now that's something you don't see every day," Nana comments, her breath taken away by this floral marvel.
I have to agree with her. I didn't think it was possible, but here it is. It's something straight out of a dream, out of a fantasy. A fairy tale. An urban legend.
This is reality.
"Nana?" I say to her, tucking myself in her arms after she puts them around me. "Let's make this our little secret, okay?"
"You got it, baby girl."
Something this rare, something this precious, can only be treated with the most delicate of care. Just like with me and this Woo Foo power inside of me, I need to cultivate it. I have to let it run its course. Let it blossom and provide it with guidance. With sustenance.
This is what I had been looking for. What I need.
What this family needs…
Yo
You know that feeling where you've just awoken from a nightmare, and you go through a day, and that day is suspiciously, eerily, similar to the nightmare you had? Have you ever felt something like that? Do you know what it means to feel that way?
Well…I don't. But this has to be the closest that I can get to that. Except here, there is no fine line between fantasy and reality. No, that's not the case with me. Fantasy and reality are one and the same in this circumstance. Everything I have ever done. Everything I have ever said. Every emotion that I have ever affected. Every thought conjured up. Whether I mean them or not. They have been crawling along my skin as of late. Injecting themselves into my mind, and projecting themselves unto me at my most vulnerable. At those moments where I am convinced that I am at peace. They wait for the opportune moment to strike, and when that opportunity does arise, when they do strike, the hurt that one would normally feel is magnified a million times over.
For every action, there's an equal or opposite reaction. I'm not the brightest person in the world, but I know for a fact that this is a universal truth. That it applies to me more than anyone out there right now.
It's all coming full circle now. I've always thought that every decision I've made has been the right one. That I am somehow exempt from consequences. Among the many mistakes I have made, that is probably my greatest one of all. Dodging every repercussion rather than taking them head on. Years and years and years of guilt buried in the Earth below have manifested into a monster so heinous that it's indescribable. A monster born of my hand. A monster that has come to bite me in the ass.
And do you want to know what the worst part is? In trying to sweep these faults under my feet, I actually think that I'm confronting them. Yes, I was that stupid. That foolish. Maybe I still am.
But this is also my second chance. My opportunity. If there really is some God or cosmic being in charge with how the world operates, then I wouldn't be getting this chance in the first place. I wouldn't be forgiven so easily.
There is still so much to learn. Not just for a dedicated Woo Foo Knight, but for a Woo Foo Master as well. My student and daughter has proven it in her bravery. In her devotion to her brother. All her shortcomings, all her faults, both big and small, they're working in tandem to make her a much better person than she is. Mine, too. Mine are working towards that same goal.
I guess it's about time I stopped ignoring. I guess it's about time I started acting. For his sake. For mine
For ours…
My mind made up, I stand from my bed and exchange looks with my reflection on the mirror. In his eyes I can see a hardened will. In his eyes, I see a determination steeling itself. I need to see this through. I will.
Without wasting another second, I sprint down the staircase followed by the one that leads to the basement. I navigate the darkened room, flip the switch on and stand before a giant door enveloped by a film of magic energy. The same door that my daughter entered a month ago.
How long has it been since I ventured in there? Judging from the goosebumps on my arm, I'd say a really long time now.
Gathering my focus, I take one step back from the door and form a gesture with my hand. Tsūro o kanaette kudasai. These words sound in my mind first, but soon manifest in my speech.
"Tsūro o kanaette kudasai. Tsūro o kanaette kudasai. Tsūro o kanaette kudasai."
'Please grant me passage'. 'Please grant me passage'. 'Please grant me passage'.
The veil vanishes like shattered glass, magic shards appearing where it once was before disappearing themselves. As if it acknowledges my will, the doors part to the sides, allowing me into the hollowed chamber.
No one except for those versed in Woo Foo know of the true extent of its prowess. Its power. All these common, outlandish items. A toilet brush, an adult diaper and safety pin, a bladed zucchini, a sundress and a pair of slippers, among other odd objects… While they have their purpose, the weapons before me are the real treasures of our ancient art.
And even then, there are still the up-and-coming warriors who've yet to learn of this incredible heritage. This monumental legacy.
Deep into the chamber I venture until I come across the weapon I'm seeking. Or should I say 'weapons'? Inside a glass, cylinder capsule they hang. A pair of bronze gauntlets with thick, glistening knuckles. One of the more ancient and more respected of these treasures.
One of the twelve Woo Foo Talismans, a Kami no Gofu. Its name, like its kin, inspires both marvel and unease in one who gazes at it. And also like its kin, its supposed power is confined to fables and urban myths.
"I just hope I don't mess this one up," I say to myself before levitating the glass off of the base. With every ounce of energy I can muster, I recite the proper incantation.
"Woo Foo Elders far and near, hear my cries and pleas loud and clear. Plains, mountains, marsh and hills, may the Earth beneath my feet bow to my will. Arise, Terra Manus: Earth Hand!"
The ground trembles when the weapons' name is spoken, rocking to and fro. Continuing until it comes to a stop. Both of the gauntlets are giving off their holy green glow. The light hovers to where I stand, and in a sudden click, they vanish to reveal the gauntlets firmly fitted around my hands.
This is it.
With a clench of my fist, I head out the way I came from, hardening my face to condition myself for the upcoming difficult affair. Somewhere in my chest, in my heart, is an apology. It doesn't get simpler than that. It's waiting to be spoken.
And it will be. If it's the last thing I do, I will tell him these long overdue words.
Yang & Lupin
The air around us is filled by our grunts, yells and the rushing sound of our soaring fists and feet. There's also the occasional glistening noise whenever magic comes into play. They paint this very picture that my student and I stand in.
Yang leaps at me while bringing down and straight right hand, which I deflect using my arm without losing footing. The impact does make my foot slide along the ground, if only ever so slightly. Seeing that his attack has barely left a scratch on me, he somersaults away from me and sends two blasts of Woo Foo energy streaming towards me. The best that his efforts give him is a graze on my trench coat, which I just laugh off as a means to goad him.
Anticipating his response, I stand my ground and retaliate, the two of us entering an exhilarating exchange of blows and point blank spells, the result of which is a half-decimated field with charred grass and swiftly withered flowers.
He's seen much improvement since I took him under my wing. His punches and kicks are more hard-hitting than they were, and he's gone from barely conjuring a flash of light to summoning an incinerating stream. The look in his eyes has also undergone tremendous change. His gaze is one of hardened determination, and he wears it more often than I'd initially thought. I don't know whether to be proud or weary, so I decide to be both.
Lately, I've been leaning more towards the latter. Ever since I gave him the Woo Foo Grimoire, he's grown to be fond of it. Relying on it more than he should. More than I hoped he would. It's no different from someone turning to drugs; they get their first kick, and once they get more of their fix, they can't stop. They'll keep going and going until their body gives out. Until they reach that point of no return, and the effects become too grave to reverse.
Literally the moment I think about that very artifact, my student relents from his offense to call upon it. Swirling above his arm and expanding at a rapid pace, a jet black cloud that is unpleasantly palpable to all five senses. After the Grimoire has finished activating, he goes back into his attack, his movement swifter, his strikes more forceful. Every time he turns the thing on, his eyes dilate into a maniacal, flesh-hungry stare. And they do so again.
I need Yang to take into consideration everything I've told him. What I've told him about his borrowed power. About the difference between power fueled by conviction and power without conviction. Yet I can't force it down his throat, else I risk losing his favor. The same way he lost my favor long ago. I told him that I have faith in him, and I do. I know that he'll pull through. That he'll overcome this phase and see the worth of his true power. That everything will fall into place when the time is right.
As I look into those exaggerated eyes of his, I realize that this has become more than just a training session.
But faith can only do so much. It can only last for so long. And my faith has been stretched and pulled back and forth. I guess I'm the one to blame for just believing in things blindly. Except now, I'm more certain than ever.
Yang throws another punch, this one imbued with the strength that Fog has to offer, and I guard against it. But it requires me to use both of my paws, which leaves me wide open for an incoming kick that whacks me in the face, sending me flying and tumbling along the grass. Blood trickles from the edge of my lips, the metallic taste cementing itself on my tongue. He follows up by commanding an array of arrows to charge at me.
In answer to his attack, I beckon my iaidō blade and begin cutting each arrow down with speedy slashes. Precision like this is time-consuming to master, but is a work of art when perfected.
Like a swarm of flies, the arrows fall one at a time before my swordplay. They keep coming in droves, but I manage to keep up with them, never missing a beat with my slashes. Can't let my focus slip, I think.
I repeat the sentence over and over, only to have a stray arrow scrape my arm. I grasp the wound for dear life to prevent any blood from getting out. At the other side of the field, Yang advances slowly, another myriad of arrows floating at the ready. His sclera is no longer white. Instead, it's as dark as the bank of Fog that floats around him.
On his right arm, the Grimoire has expanded in size, covering his entire lower arm and almost half of his upper arm. With the way it looks right now, it's as if it's a part of him. Literally. He extends the arm with his hand open, drawing the arrows towards it in a formation. I roll to the side just in time to avoid the incoming volley, using the ensuing small window of time to prepare a spell.
"You were doing so well," I comment, disappointed. "Don't do this to me now."
My paw glows with potent magic energy, which I fling at him. I aim for his arm, and my magic hits its mark. The Fog cloud is reduced to nothingness, and the Grimoire to its glove form. Yang falls forward, his paws catching his descent. While he's getting himself together, I run over to where the Grimoire has landed and retrieve it. In my possession, the thing reverts to its original, black spherical state.
I hurry over to my student and tend to his need. I put one of his arms around my shoulders and one of mine behind his back, his breaths heavy. Synchronized with his racing heart.
"Slow and steady," I urge him, giving him a pat on the back. "Can you stand up?"
He makes an attempt to, but I hold on to him anyway just in case.
"Where is it?" says Yang as his thought process normalizes.
"What? Oh no! This thing is off-limits for the rest of the day," I say to him, my answer harsh.
"Gimme a break!" He pushes me away. "It wasn't that bad." He changes expressions when I show him the gash on my arm. And his frustration is swapped out for guilt. "Oh."
"That's all you can say…? 'Oh'?"
He throws his paws up at me in surrender. "I'm sorry! It's not gonna happen again."
"If you're really sorry, you're going to stop acting like a spoiled little punk and listen to me this time around." I point to my wound again, and the words that follow are spoken without any relent on my end. "You deal me a couple of scratches like this, you could even give me a concussion for all I care. That's one thing. But what happens to you when you rely too much on the Grimoire is a different problem altogether." To further hammer the point home, I take out the Grimoire, which is still brimming with Fog. "This isn't a toy, Yang. Those bamboo swords, poles and nunchucks you've been swinging around like a circus act is nothing compared to this. I told you that you were ready. I told you that I have faith in you. Don't make me see that faith go to waste."
Yang averts his eyes from me and ponders, his expression softening and hardening in one continuous loop. It finally settles on hardened, and he directs it to me.
"Y'know, for someone who has a lot of beef with a certain grumpy old panda, you're sure acting a lot like him," he utters, as if I had slapped him in the face.
He walks away, leaving me with my own bit of contemplation to take care of. I put the Grimoire back in my pocket. This has officially become a game of chess. Both I and Yang are caught in a stalemate. I have many things to say that will disprove his claim, but in a way, it's still right.
What Yo and I had back then was something special. The two of us were more than just a student and master. Every day that he and I spent together meant the entire world to me. Whether it was one of his lessons, or him teaching me how to ride my very first bicycle, or us just lounging around in the dojo living room to enjoy a late night movie together. Even back then, I knew that he enjoyed himself whenever he played the role of 'Dad'. And despite our difference in species, I was always willing to play the role of 'Son'.
It was to the point where that it just might have been real. Maybe. Who knows? In another reality, we really might have been related by blood.
As far as Yang is concerned, the one or so months that I've known him feel like years. Decades, in fact. Seeing him, a kid with the entire world ahead of him, the good, the bad and the in-between, made me see the chasm in me that I could never fill. And him seeking my help, my guidance, it closed up that chasm. I'm knowingly playing the 'Dad' role, whereas he's obliviously playing the 'Son' role.
That's something I don't want to lose. Something I want to preserve with everything I have. Something that my old master had but wasn't capable, wasn't willing, to save.
That is how he and I are nothing alike. I'm not going to stand idly and let these comparisons slide. I am not Yo in any stretch of imagination. Yo is a coward. A fool. An imbecile. A worthless, pathetic shell of someone that was once great. Someone who used to command respect.
Refusing to repeat his mistake, I make my way across the field and catch up with my student.
"Yang, wait," I call out to him, causing him to stop in his path. "I didn't mean to come off that way. Sorry if I gave you the wrong idea. I really do have faith in you. I just want to be the teacher you deserve. The teacher that my old one couldn't be."
"Okay…?" says Yang tentatively, narrowing his eyes a little. He manages to crack at least something resembling a smile and runs with it for his next few words. "Listen, I get it. I get where you're coming from. But I'll tell you right now that you're doing a damn fine job."
"Sure." I roll my eyes and grin along with him.
"No, I'm being honest."
Continuing on the way back to the cave, I shrug and say in a teasing tongue, "If you say so. Still, I do want to lay down some ground rules. I'll still allow you enough freedom to do as you please, but we're going to have to set a few boundaries so that you don't get too carried away. Deal?"
Yang rushes to my side and walks along with me. "Deal." He gives me a paw, and we shake on our agreement.
These past few weeks have been some of the most challenging I've ever faced. I've been pushed like I've never been pushed before, and each day that passes by, it only gets harder. My physical, spiritual and mental faculties are a sword forged in a tower of fire, tempered with repeated slams of a hammer on an anvil and honed day in and day out on a whetstone. The blade has only sharpened, the tip more pointed and less visible to the naked eye. It's at this point where I'm now in the firm belief that if I remained at the dojo, I wouldn't have come this far. Leaving my old home for this new one was the best decision I've made my whole life.
Through Lupin's guidance, I am ten times—a hundred times, a thousand times, ten thousand times—the Woo Foo Knight I once was. Beyond just being able to throw a punch and a kick, every part of my body can be classified as a separate weapon. Whether it's my knees, my elbows, my shoulders, my head or even my ears, my Woo Foo Might isn't what it used to be. On top of that, I'm certain that I can stand toe to toe with my sister in the Magic department. A bold claim, I know, but hey, if I can back it up…
My opportunities to give my newfound skills a try aren't just bound to lessons and sparring sessions. Lupin and I have ventured from one town to the next to demonstrate what Woo Foo prowess really is. And by 'demonstrate', I mean I bring these places to their knees with what I can do. Decimating anything and everything in my path, from buildings to cars to anyone who dares stand up to me.
More often than not, these brave—or should I say 'stupid'—people are the local police. What exactly is going on in their heads that's led to them thinking they even stand a ghost of a chance? They don't. And the second one of them points a gun at me and opens fire, game over…
Once in a while, I get some random schmuck taking up some other inferior fighting style getting a rise out of me, claiming that Woo Foo is nothing but 'smoke and mirrors'. 'All growl, no bite', as some of them put it. If memory serves me, I think the guy was using Taekwondo; his uniform had the Korean flag on it. When they find out exactly how sharp my bite is, that's when they shut up…forever. Losers. They not only get to see me rock their homes, but they get to be part of the demolition themselves.
Each day that ends in victory is a good day.
Today is no exception. I've just finished bringing down another town over up north. Not only that, but the chump who took me on afterwards wasn't worth breaking a sweat over. That's what he gets for talking big and not backing it up. And I was just about to believe his boast that Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu was hot shit. Well, whatever. As far as I know, he's now a failure both in life and death.
I got a nifty souvenir, too – the black belt he wore during our fight. It's all tattered and ripped up here and there, and I can smell some of the idiot's blood on it, but that just adds to the novelty. And come on. How could I turn down a fricking black belt?
I'm on a bus ride back to the town, keeping to myself and admiring my trophy. No one dares to bat an eye at me or approach me, too intimidated by the sight of my sword to talk. The driver was a bit of a bastard, but it's nothing a threat on his life couldn't fix.
It's a shame that Lupin chose today to not accompany me. Said that he had some housekeeping to do back at the cave. What housekeeping? It's a cave. What's he going to do? Spruce a boulder up and use it as a coat rack?
Eh. That's probably a bit too nutty for his taste. For all I know, he could really be doing some housekeeping, fixing up the sheets in both our rooms, adding a few more touches with the money he's earning over at his bartender job. He wasn't particularly clear what it was he was going to do, but he sounded convincing enough that I just left it there.
At any rate, the bus arrives at my stop, and I get off here. I make it to the cave after a fifteen minute walk. Every time I enter this place, it always comes off as hollow, even with the renovations made. Maybe it's the narrow hallway for an entrance, maybe it's the fact that it's a cave. I have no idea, nor do I care to worry about any further.
Inside, I hear what I assume is Lupin's voice. Part of me thinks that it's sobbing, and another part of me thinks that it's laughter. Going deeper doesn't make it any clearer.
"Lupin?" I say, holding the black belt with one hand and the hilt of my sword with the other. "Master? Are you here?"
My questions float around the cave and remain unanswered. I tighten my paw around my hilt, staying vigilant for any potential threats.
When I get to where the noises are coming from, I find that there's no danger here whatsoever. Instead, all I see is Lupin in my room, sitting at my table. In front of a desktop computer that I had asked for – something for all the hard work I've put in. He's laughing uncontrollably, planting his head on top of the desk and pounding its surface with his fist. His gut just about to burst.
I let my sword go and enter my room carefully. I see an Internet browser open on the screen and a video playing at the moment. I also see a video playing on the browser, but Lupin's crescendo of laughter makes it hard to even make out what the video is supposed to be.
"What are you doing?" I ask my teacher, chuckling at the absurdity of the sight.
Catching his breath, Lupin looks behind his shoulder to address my question. "Oh, hey. You're back," he says, wiping a tear from his eye. "Y'know, I had my doubts, but I'm glad that I bought you this 'computer'. And this Internet thing is just…wow. It's mind-blowing. Where have these things been my entire life?"
A better question would have to be where has he been this entire time?
"See? What'd I tell you?" I say, moving over to his left and leaning down to see the computer screen.
The video in question shows a sharply-dressed man rambling on about a movie that he'd just seen, and expressing his opinions in an overly exaggerated manner. Whenever a plot hole arises or a character makes a baffling choice or just a stupid idea comes up, he points it out by yelling at the top of his lungs. Sometimes, it'll cut into a segment that's supposed to copy bits and pieces from the movie he's talking about. It's supposed to be a review, but it's also for show. It's meant to be funny, and it succeeds at that. If my master's hysterical responses is any indication of that.
Speaking of Lupin, I have never seen him this excitable. I mean, I've known him well enough already to know that he has a fun side to him, both in and out of battle. That he can find the time to make a wisecrack in the midst of a fight, and that he can be passionate about his favorite things, like his music. But this is the most enthusiasm I've ever seen from him.
"GODDAMN THIS MOVIE!" the guy in the video screams, whacking his head with his hat. Driven mad by the scenes he's showing us. He then cackles like a lunatic, in a rhythmic pattern at that, before some guy off-camera hands him a pill and a glass of water to help him calm down.
This gets another round of laughter from Lupin, and I wonder how long he's been keeping this up. I'm surprised that he hasn't passed out yet. That he even has enough breath in him to guffaw this wildly.
Okay…
I decide to stick around and watch the rest of the video with him, and I laugh once or twice during the whole thing. Half of the time, it's at the video itself, and the other half, it's out of amusement for Lupin. It's like this is his first real experience with computers. With the Internet.
Oh, wait…
The video finishes with a goofy musical number, complete with green screen-generated effects in the background, and that's where Lupin just flat out loses it.
He doesn't stop laughing even after the video's over. Finally, after about two minutes, he calms himself down, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye, breathing in and out. He leans back.
"You alright now?" I ask with a grin.
He looks at me. "I should be, yeah. Well, that was entertaining, to say the least. Thanks so much for that, Yang."
"Uh…sure. If you say so."
"Oh, shit, we don't have any food. I completely forgot. I meant to go out and do a bit of shopping." As the epiphany dawns on him, he smacks his face hard. "I am so sorry, Yang."
Again, I chuckle, shaking my head. "That's alright." For whatever reason, I'm not mad like I usually am when things don't go my way. I guess with Lupin, I can make an exception. One hundred years of limbo really does a number on you. Just as I can learn so much from him, I can also help him adjust to these present times.
"How about this?" Lupin stands up from my chair. "You and me, we get some takeout. Your choice, my treat." He shrugs at me, giving his offer some added effect.
I can't help but smile at him and nod approvingly. "Sounds good. I'm in the mood for some Chinese tonight."
Putting an arm around me, Lupin leads me out of the room and out of the cave. "No way," he says, grinning cheekily. "That's exactly what I had in mind."
"Pfft, yeah right."
"No, I'm being serious. I know this awesome Chinese joint I'm sure you're going to fall head over heels for.
"Must be a really good Chinese joint, then."
"You bet it is. If we're lucky, it should still be there. Their stir fry pepper beef is just…ooh, heaven. And wait 'til you try the dumplings. You will not want to have anything else for the next week."
He rambles on about the Chinese place, and I just listen to him intently as we make our way there. He may not realize it, but I move myself closer to him, delighting myself in his touch. In the softness of his fur against mine. It may just be the child in me, but there's a warmth in the way he holds me that I can't ignore. It puts me at ease. It's reassuring. Like a lullaby being sung when I'm about to fall asleep.
I guess he isn't the only one who has an emptiness in him. And I guess I have more than one chasm in me that I want to fill. It only took me until now to understand what that hole needed to be filled with. Having my new master right next to me fills me up.
No wonder why I was disappointed that he couldn't join me today.
With everything I've learned so far, with the progress I've made in this long and seemingly unending road, there remains a few needs that I can't deny. That I can't neglect.
The wheel of fate has been spun. The cogs are in motion, meshing together fluidly, no one piece out of place.
Each life in this little charade is intertwined. A brother and sister, a teacher and his student… The sins of old that await rectification… A hope that burns in a child's beating heart… In more ways than one, these lives are attached. And their connection only serves to bring them together, however that may be.
The cards have been dealt on the table. Many questions remain. How far will these souls push their fortunes? What will become of them after tempting fate one too many times?
Where will their separate roads eventually lead them?
The answers seem so distant, but with each day that fleets by, they look to be just a little bit closer…