Freedom's Prodigal Son
Chapter Eight: Arrival of a Master
The years passed by quickly as if the sands of time flowed freely. Summer turned to fall, fall withered into winter, and winter thawed into spring. The season cycle came and went without as much as a whisper.
Jet never bothered to look back on the fateful day Huo had included him as a disciple. He was here in the now; what did the trivial things of the past matter? Thinking like this was the only way he could have a chance to move on, or grow.
He panted roughly as he eyed the training dummy in front of him. Jet had been unleashing his fury upon it, yet it seemed unfazed by his constant barrage. Anger swelled within him as sweat poured down his face. Even without a face its unwavering stature was taunting him, much like his previous defeats by the other pupils. One, called Han, was unmatched in hand to hand, with his iron fist style. Jet still remembered the bruising he suffered from that day. Then there was Cho, who was something else with that bo staff of his, which seemed to be everywhere at once. Jet couldn't even remember it landing a strike on him, but he had the marks to say it had. And if he thought Lei was going to be easy because she was a girl, Jet was dead wrong as he found himself flat on the ground, his eyes gazing at the sky wondering how he'd got pummeled and humiliated by a pair of… fans.
It had been like this for some time now. Even with Huo's constant praising of how he was improving, it made no difference. What good was it to get stronger when there are always those stronger than you? A defeat was a defeat, no matter how many times you told yourself otherwise. He felt like he was going no where.
He threw a last, final punch at the straw dummy, all his energy rushing through it. His body trembled with the exertion. Then the young man finally sighed and decided to crumple down on the floor, trying to fight of the fatigue that was slowly working its way through his body. "This isn't over pal, not by a long shot," he warned his woody adversary as he tried to catch his breath. "I'm just... giving you enough time to say your prayers before I grind you into dust..."
If the dummy was intimidated by his words, it didn't show.
Fu Xi watched carefully out of the corner of the dojo, shaking his head in disapproval.
"Something the matter with our young ward Fu Xi?" The gentle voice of Huo would have startled anyone, as the old man moved without making a sound.
Fortunately, Fu Xi was accustomed to his master's mannerisms and managed to maintain his serenity. "The boy is a mess," the younger man noted calmly.
"Not for lack of trying or potential, though." Huo chuckled as he played with his beard.
Exhaling heavily the male twin plunged ahead. "I mean no disrespect, Si Fu, but he doesn't belong in the dojo. Look how he trashes and swings his fists around, unguided and wild. He is reckless, and completely without grace," Fu Xi berated.
The old man seemed to find amusing as he continued to smile.
"He's a braggart, not a martial artist," Fu Xi concluded, slightly frustrated at his master's lack of concern.
Finally Huo spoke.
"I seem to recall not too long ago a certain youth who fought in the same manner," the old master recollected. "A wild child, with silver eyes... and an oh so violent demeanor." Huo smiled briefly at the collected young man.
"...mm..." Fu Xi only continued to gaze at Jet, who didn't seem to notice the two watching him. "I was a different person then."
"And how is our young Jet any different, Fu Xi?" The old master gestured with his cane at the struggling youth. "Look at the anger in those movements, look at how unfocused the blows he lands are. It's like looking at a mirror from years ago, my First Disciple. Except I was more handsome then... and you were more adorable than now." Huo chortled at his joke while Fu Xi grimaced at the memory.
Finally Huo's laughter died down and began to examine Jet as closely as Fu Xi had. "Every journey begins with a single step; this is especially true for those who walk the way of the sword," he stated. "All Jet needs is a single push in the right direction to find his path."
"...I suppose that's where you come in, Si Fu?" Fu Xi's eyebrow cocked.
"Wrong again, my friend," the old man nonchalantly answered as he began to walk away. "I have helped my fair share of students in plenty already. Now, I am tired. But..." he considered, glancing back curiously over his shoulder. "I don't suppose you're free this afternoon?
Jet finally succumbed, defeated on the floor. His fists ached, even with the bandage wraps he wore around them, and his legs wobbled with weariness. And still he had not dented the wooden dummy the way the other students seem to do with ease.
"Why?!" Frustration began to eat at him to his core as he began to pound the floor with his fists.
"All you'll get from doing that are bloody knuckles and a debt to Si Fu for a new floor tile."
Jet looked up as the stern voice echoed behind him. Fu Xi's figure stood there, erect, tall and proud. His long black robes flowed behind him as he continued to walk towards the youth.
"... Brother Fu Xi," Jet scrambled to his feet and tried to bow apologetically, still unaccustomed to calling his fellow martial practitioners brothers and sisters. As far as Jet was concerned he only had one brother, one who left his life a long time ago. "I-" But the silver haired warrior held one long finger up to silence him.
Jet frowned. At first he thought he had offended Fu Xi by not bowing right away, as the older warrior continued to gaze at him silently. He tried to rise quickly but his legs were weary with pain and made his movements awkward and unbalanced. Fu Xi was always a strict task master, but even he couldn't hold that again Jet, could he?
"You move like a wild hog-monkey," Fu Xi finally stated.
"...I ...what?"
It took a moment to process his words, so opposite to what the boy had been expecting to hear. But, once he did, Jet glared. First Disciple Fu Xi was not one for conversations, much less insults, and that was definitely one.
"A Wild. Hog. Monkey," the silver eyed man repeated, as if explaining something incredibly obvious to an idiot. "Badgering little creatures. Always moving around, usually eager to jump, swing, and make chattering noises."
Now what Fu Xi was saying was definitely getting a rise out of Jet, as the brown haired youth's hands shook with anticipation. But the boy struggled to control himself as the older disciple continued.
"Do you want to know why the other students bested you so easily?" he lectured. "You make too much unnecessary movements and noise. It gives you away," Fu Xi continued as he circled around the red-faced young man. "And I don't think drilling and training you is going to change that. It's part of your nature. You're no bender. You're clumsy with the jian sword. You cannot wield the Bo Staff like Cho can, nor can you fight with your fists like Han. So what good are you?"
That was the last straw. First Disciple or not, Jet could care less when his pride was on the line. He roared out a wordless cry and charged after Fu Xi.
The next thing he knew he was sailing through the air, his eyes gazing at everything in an upside down manner, and finally the pain of hitting the floor hard was eminent on his back. He didn't understand. He hadn't even been in range of Fu Xi's arms.
"Like I said... unnecessary movements, monkey." Jet glanced up, finding a small smile upon Fu Xi's face. "Or with that aggression, maybe I should call you a armadillo-tiger then?" He glanced at the groaning boy. "...More like a tiger cub, actually..."
"...Wha... what happened?" Jet struggled to get up.
"These happened, cub," Fu Xi stated simply, showing the boy a pair of odd looking swords, swords that gleamed in his hands. They were nothing like any sword Jet had seen before. The crescent hand guard shone with a bright light, the blade's end twisted like a claw or hook. Fu Xi tossed them with ease to Jet, who only caught the two, barely, their combined weight almost bringing him to his knees. But he had caught them both, and that was something. Fu Xi, apparently, agreed. "There is potential within you, I can see that. It is up to you to decide whether you are going to do something about it...or not. Those are called Tiger Hook swords. An unusual weapon for an unusual student."
Jet hefted them in his hands and looked up at his unforeseen source of aid. The silvery man smiled sardonically.
"...Ready to turn those defeats into victories?" Fu Xi asked, already knowing the boy's answer.
The training to come days later were tough and rigorous. Fu Xi was unrelenting and uncompromising, so different from Huo's constant praising and gentle demeanor. Jet was not used to such a teacher.
"No! You're wielding them as if they were two very different things!" Fu Xi whacked Jet's arm with a small stick, correcting his posture.
"Ow!" Jet yelped in pain. "Hey, I'm trying!"
"Well try harder, cub. Like the animal they are named after the Tiger Hook swords are like the great beast's claws; they move as one to take down their unsuspecting prey. Who ever heard of a one-pawed tiger?"
And so the lessons would go. Fu Xi would berate him for doing something wrong, Jet would then be force to correct it, and the cycle would resume.
Hours turned to Days. Days turned to weeks. The weeks turned to months.
By then, Jet had achieved a basic understanding of the new weapon, and had finally started to make progress. Once he started, the boy took quickly to the Tiger Hook swords and was finally showing signs of real potential. But taking quickly to a weapon did very little to make learning it easy. But it did make him more determined. Jet had tasted sucess, and he was hungry for more.
Fu Xi had been right; the swords suited him. Every day he found new ways to use them, discovering immediately how a slightly different angle allowed him so many new moves, or how a change in footing created a new fighting range only his weapon could adapt quickly to. Soon hooks, blades, hilts and points all became tools as familiar to Jet as his fists. It was still challenging, and he took a good amount of beatings from Fu Xi, but suddenly, it was worth it. He could see his own improvement, and he found himself looking forward to training each day.
Sometimes Runt would come and watch him, but whenever Jet offered him a blade, he refused resolutely, as he always did when swords were involved. Eventually, when the Runt kept up this aversion to swords, or even short blades and knives, Jet began to worry. When Huo came out to observe a lesson between Jet and Fu Xi, the boy brought up his concern to his two teachers.
"I have noticed this too, Si Fu," Fu Xi agreed with Jet. "The boy often observes lessons, both with Jet and I, as well as group martial art lessons, but whenever we offer to let him join, he becomes quite frightened. It's annoying."
"It's the blades," Jet deduced. "He's afraid of swords for some reason."
"Is that what you think, Jet?" Huo asked.
"Yeah..." Fu Xi shot him a glare and Jet looked up at his master again quickly. "I mean, yes, Si Fu."
But Huo didn't seem to notice his slip in the slightest. The man just stroked his jaw, his eyes far away, and responded thoughtfully, "I see."
After a quiet moment where Jet and Fu Xi shared a confused glance, Jet turned back to his master, who was still stroking his bearded chin in thought. "What do you think?" Jet inquired.
"Oh, I quite agree with you," Huo nodded, his gaze refocusing on Jet. "I was just wondering how you reached that assumption. The boy still won't talk to me, but I suspect he saw something back in your home that made him afraid of swords."
Jet felt the memories he'd been avoiding through training coming back to him. He still wanted to remember his family, and loved ones, but not the horrible things of that night. But he remembered his conversation with Huo, and he knew that blocking it out completely was wrong. So even though it hurt to think about it, he allowed himself to recall a little of that time. "Yeah," Jet admitted. "There were plenty of reasons to be afraid of swords..." Jet glanced down at his hands, turning the hook swords over in his grip.
"But you aren't?" Huo asked.
Jet shook his head. "It wasn't the swords that killed everyone."
"It was the people holding them," Fu Xi finished confidently for him. Jet glanced up, but the man had a far away look in his eyes again. However after a moment he looked back down at the young boy. "You are exactly right, young Jet. That is why you have to be strong to wield a sword like yours. You have to be better than people like those soldiers were, or you don't deserve your weapon."
"I think I can understand that," Jet admitted, as the hook swords glinted in the sunlight. Somehow Huo always made things that seemed complicated sound so easy. Thanks to that, he wasn't just saying it; Jet really did understand. "But, I don't think Runt can."
"I agree," Huo spoke. "But don't worry about him. I've already asked someone to give him a hand."
"Who?" Jet asked.
Huo tapped his nose. "That's up to him to tell you if he wants."
"Then... what do I do?" Jet wondered.
"Support him, like he does you. Eventually, he will get past all of this too, just like you did."
Jet nodded, and afterwards began to pay more attention to the Runt. He was incredibly curious as to who was supposedly helping his silent companion, but despite the days that passed, Runt never offered any information on it, or made any move to join sparing matches of any kind, though he continued to watch Jet's. Eventually, Jet asked about it, but all the Runt did was hold out his hands to show Jet. When Jet remained confused, his wordless friend pointed to strange callouses on his palms and fingers, but this only furthered Jet's confusion. The only information Runt had been able to provide was useless to his friend. Eventually, focusing on his own swordsmanship forced Jet to give up on the Runt's mystery.
But Jet was not really to blame for this. Fu Xi kept him extremely busy. He was always either training with Huo's students, sparing with other disciples, or having private lessons with the silver-haired twin. Weeks flew by, and Jet spent each day sweaty, and each night weary and bruised, but also pleased with himself, and eager for the next day. Soon, he had callouses to match the Runt's, though positioned quite differently. If he had been able to measure himself, he would have seen he'd had a growth spurt as well, and now his scrawny body was beginning to develop muscles. But the more he learned, the more he loved his swords, and the more he realized with each passing day that he had so much still to learn.
Finally, during a sparing match, he managed to best Fu Xi, blocking one of his swings, and catching the Fist Disciple's foot with his other sword. As the taller man hit the ground, Jet felt a shocked surge of pride. He'd won! He'd actually beat Fu Xi for the first time.
"Not so fast," the man called from the ground.
Jet blinked. Then he looked down. Fu Xi's blade was inched from his own throat. "Ah man," Jet sighed.
A smile broke out across Fu Xi's face. "But that was really good, Jet," he admitted. "I can't believe I'm saying it, but you're becoming quite skilled with those Hook Swords extremely quickly. You might actually be good with them them soon."
Jet felt a big smile tug at his lips; this mocking sentence was the closest thing to praise the sour man ever distributed, and Jet recognized the compliment when he got it. Excitement flowed through him, but before he could respond to Fu Xi's comment, someone else came striding into the practice yard.
"First Brother Fu Xi," She bowed in earnest, hesitant to interrupt the lesson.
"Lei," Fu Xi greeted. "What's happening?"
"Si Fu's guest has arrived," the fan warrior pronounced. "He requested that we all attend the visitors in the main hall."
"We have a guest?" Jet asked.
"Oh yes," Fu Xi acknowledged, as he left with Lei. "Run along and clean up. You and your roommate should be there too."
And so Jet was left standing in the empty yard wondering just who was important enough to interrupt all of Huo's lessons.
By the time Jet had cleaned up and found the runt, the whole school was already present in the hall way, lined up in perfect symmetry, and not a sound to be made. Creeping up slowly to find his place Jet indicated for the Runt to follow when the floor creaked under his weight, which brought some unneeded stares from some of his fellow students. He could only mouth the word "sorry" and try to ignore them.
Just then they all straightened up, as Huo emerged from the entrance, a younger yet hard looking man walked beside him.
"Welcome Masters!" The hallway erupted with one powerful voice that surprised even Jet.
The students then bowed their heads, an action to which Jet was completely oblivious. When he didn't move, Fu Xi walked calmly up from behind, took hold of his head, and shoved it down for him.
The newcomer's eyes lingered on Jet's belated bow, but he didn't seem to have any specific emotion behind the gaze. "I see you've taught them manners, Huo, I can give you that," the younger man noted dully, his hands pressed behind his back in a dignified manner.
"You're as strict as ever," Huo teased softly. "Relax, old friend. These are my family. No need to be so formal." The older man smiled gently at his fellow master.
The visitor did not relax much, though he did nod to Huo, and the two began walking again, slowly. Jet could hardly see them thanks to an older and taller pupil standing in front of him, and the two men spoke so softly that he couldn't hear them anymore either.
"Who's that?" he asked when Fu Xi finally released his head.
"Shh. Quiet," Fu Xi shushed him before walking up to give his own greeting to the visitor.
If he listened really hard, Jet could make out peices of the conversation still. He didn't catch what Fu Xi said in welcome, but the man who's name he still didn't know seemed familiar with the twin. "...I see you haven't change Fu Xi." The visitor raised one eyebrow as he took in the first deciple.
"...It is good to see you again, Si Fu." Fu Xi's fist met his hand over his heart and he bowed out of respect.
Jet thought he might have missed something, but he did catch at least the main part of the man's reply. "...Can't say the same about this place, my boy. What has your master been taking in?"
"I-"
"Now, now," Huo waved Fu Xi's attempt at an answer off before rounding happily on the younger master, apparently not in the least bit perturbed by the rude comment. "If you're going to be throwing insults at me it should at least be over a cup of tea and a game of Paisho." Huo chuckled warmly as he led his guest towards one of the private chambers. "Fu Xi, be a dear and dismiss the students for me."
Jet sighed as he and the other students were released, bowing a formal solute before breaking off into groups. He still hadn't learned the new man's name...