Chapter Six: First Impressions
The road to Fujian was a difficult one, in part because of the terrain, most of which was mountainous and generally unforgiving, and in part because the dirt and occasional cobblestone was uneven and hard on the feet. In addition to the road there was also the weather, which was considerably rainy and dismal; but because there was nothing to be done about it, Crane, Po, and Mr. Ping, decided to live with it, taking solace in that it was at least a gentle rain.
Walking on the path and trying their best to avoid the odd rock or branch that had managed to stick its way through, carrying nothing but what they had managed to scrounge up with the little money they possessed, Crane and Mr. Ping, each walking at a steady pace, tried their best to think of conversation topics, neither of them possessing much in terms of people skills.
"Mister Crane" Mr. Ping began, Po several feet ahead and well out of earshot, "Tell me, why you haven't told him yet?"
Crane glanced at Po and then back at Mr. Ping, contemplating his answer; before he even gave it however, his eyes betrayed him; the question causing them to become regretful and sad, squinting as if they refused to look at anything clearly, much like his mind which was once again clouded.
"It's a long story Ping" Crane answered solemnly, "One that I hope I will be able to tell. In time."
Mr. Ping shook his head, although he respected Crane and his position, he found it beneath him to simply avoid it as if it wasn't even an issue.
"You can't keep avoiding it forever" Mr. Ping continued sternly, "Eventually he's going to figure it out. Are you ready to have that conversation? Remember Mister Crane, once you've gone down a path, it's very difficult to turn around."
Crane sighed and hung his head sadly, for he was not delusional, he knew that eventually everything would have to be revealed- his identity and his reasoning chief among these. Because he was a rational individual and figured at the very least he needed one person on his side when the inevitable occurred and feelings of betrayal came up, Crane relented and gave Mr. Ping what he had asked for.
"In his room I noticed that there were small figurines, one for Monkey, Tigress, Viper, and Mantis, yet none for Crane. Why do you think that is?"
Mr. Ping laughed, for the question was ridiculous and seemed irrelevant; still, if only to humor him, the goose answered.
"Because he lost it" Mr. Ping replied, "Seriously, what does that have to do with anything?"
Crane shook his head, for it had to do with everything, as far as he was concerned, it confirmed what he already knew.
"Unlikely" Crane continued, sulking, his pragmatism taking over, "Po being the kung-fu enthusiast that he is, the idea of him losing anything even remotely related to kung-fu, even if it was as simple as a toy would be incomprehensible. No, Crane was not on that shelf because he does not fit his expectations of what a warrior should be."
Mr. Ping laughed again, finding it hard to believe that Po would have biases when it came to such matters, remembering all the times that he had recited stories and legends and histories of warriors and poets, who had claimed to be masters of the art, Po having met them all with equal curiosity and wonder.
"I think you're reading too much into this" Mr. Ping exclaimed, "If you tell him he will understand. He might even be more excited-"
Crane huffed indifferently, he wanted to believe that the goose was right, but there was still a part of him that held on to his conceptions if only because it had happened so many times before.
"If you found out that one of your heroes was less than what you thought would you be excited?" Crane asked, at the same time ending the conversation on his part, wanting nothing more to do with Mr. Ping and his endless prying. Walking towards Po, Crane tried to the best of his ability to focus the panda's attention in hopes of capturing his own.
"Po" Crane began as he reached his side, his legs at half their normal stride, "There is something that you must know."
Po, who up until this point had been mostly talking to himself, silently turned around inquisitively, eager to hear what it was that the bird had to say. His eyes sparkled and darted left to right excitedly, almost as if he were about to explode.
"What is it?" Po asked, answering him, "We gonna do some more kung-fu Din? Because if we are, I'm down. Hey, show me that tackle thing again."
Crane laughed, admiring his spirit and casually shook his head.
"In a minute" Crane continued, "but first you must know why we are going on this journey. Have you ever heard of The Way?"
Po shook his head, for although he had heard of Mr. Ping speak of it a few times, the goose being a follower, it did not however register enough on an emotional and spiritual level for those conversations to have any meaning.
"Not really" Po answered, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment, "Dad's talked about it some but-"
Crane laughed to himself, at the same time unintentionally cutting Po off, to cover for this, the bird recovered as best he could by raising his wing.
"You don't need to explain" Crane said forgivingly, "I will teach you. But first, how well do you know yourself? Not kung-fu, but what makes you who you are. The people who have you shaped you, molded you. Where do you place the greatest value? These are paramount; in order to understand where you are going, you must first see where you have been."
Po sighed and hung his head, for although Crane meant well and had the best of intentions, the words cut through him like a knife through butter. The mentioning of a past, of understanding it to know the future, was something that at the moment was an impossibility; in part because he did not his own origin, and in part because he did not care to know it. Crane, sensing that he had touched a sensitive area, immediately retracted, his protective nature kicking in, allowing him to bring the conversation back on himself.
"When I was a kid the one thing I wanted to be was a Daoshi, a priest. I would help people wherever I could, do whatever I could. My father wouldn't allow it, he said it was useless, a waste of time, to be sitting in temples and praying when there was work in the fields to be done. My mother was much more understanding, although she did not entirely approve either. She aspired for me to marry the landlord's daughter, that I might bring respect to the family and receive three times the average rice field."
Mr. Ping, who couldn't help but overhear, stepped up at this, conversations of love and family having always intrigued him; that and his concern for Crane had grown to the point that anything the bird said he took in.
"What did you do?" the goose asked, curious, "Did you listen to your father or to your mother?"
Crane laughed and smiled to himself, at the same time giving an answer; still, if only because the question was asked, he gave a verbal response.
"Neither" Crane replied, leaning down a bit, trying to make it personal than it really was, at the same time allowing himself to scratch an itch that had been bothering him for the past few minutes, "Father had always disapproved of me and the landlord's daughter was terrible company."
It was at this moment that something strange happened, if only for the convenience of the plot and to move the story along. This strange happening, which wasn't entirely strange in and of itself, was of a leaf falling from a tree. Like most leaves it took its time falling to the ground, contemplating on its life and how it had gotten to this particular moment in time. It wondered perhaps if it were still connected to its branch if it would ever achieve its dream of being in a painting and thereby obtaining superstar status in the leaf community. But alas, due to the circumstances of plot and the fact that Crane was slowly becoming really, really boring, the leaf fell to the ground and thus, would never know what might have been.
No sooner did the leaf touch the ground did a wolf appear on the path a few feet ahead. The wolf, who staggered and stumbled with every step it took, did not notice the ample supply of food that was a few feet behind it, probably because it was too busy worrying about the large gash in its back or that the right side of its entire body, from tail to snout, was severely burned to the point of almost being completely off. This creature, as miserable and ghastly as it was, still continued in a forward direction along the path, as it were absolutely determined to reach its destination.
Looking at this scene, Crane did the only he saw fit to do and flew directly in front of it, taking a huge risk in the event that the wolf decided to feed and placing a great deal of trust in the situation.
"Please" Crane said softly, bowing slightly to show his sincerity, "Let me help you."
The wolf growled and but said nothing, only brushing Crane aside as it spat out its own blood and a few teeth. As it passed, the bird could feel the heat from its body, smell the ash and the brunt flesh; the combination almost making Crane throw up the meager breakfast he had that morning. Swallowing his own bile and shaking his head vigorously for a moment, trying to maintain his concentration, Crane continued his current course of action, meanwhile, Po and his father, curiosity getting the better of them, came up from behind, Mr. Ping with a wet rag, and Po with a few dumplings.
"Here" Po said, extending his dumpling filled hand, "Eat this, it'll help."
The wolf gnashed and gargled, at which Crane immediately slapped him as hard as he dared.
"Speak!" Crane berated, getting increasingly annoyed, "How do you expect us to help you if you don't speak? Tell us what happened to you, where you came from."
The wolf stared into Crane's eyes, trying to read them and see if they held any lies or deception behind them; it then turned to Po; it was here that it found courage. With the voice of the sad and hopeless, the lost and the dead, the wolf howled for a moment and indirectly answered Crane, looking down at the ground.
"Katayama, friends call me Kat-"
Po, who had never heard of such a ridiculous name, could only laugh at the thought, for it did not seem particularly fitting for the name of a wolf.
"Can I call you Kat?" Po asked, laughing, unable to control himself.
The wolf growled and sneered, refusing to believe that it had been insulted so blatantly.
"You should consider yourself lucky" the wolf declared, "If it wasn't for the sake of my family you would be dead for such an insult."
Katayama turned to Crane, who immediately upon hearing of family and the subtle hint of danger, became emotionally invested in the sad and half charred creature.
"My village was attacked. The ancestral temple destroyed; the buildings, nothing but ash and broken wood. The Daoshi, scattered, dead or worse-"
Katayama's voice trailed off, at the same time wincing in pain and agony; his wounds taking their toll. Mr. Ping, reacting quickly, placed the rag on the wolf's side and slowly began to dab away the blood and peck off dead fur.
"I beseech you" Katayama continued, shifting his weight slightly to his better side in an effort to help Mr. Ping, "Don't leave us to our fate just because we're wolves. We may be many things, but we are not monsters. We were farmers; only ate the unintelligent cows and the occasional deer. Please."
Crane sighed and shook his head, trying to come up with a solution in his head. He knew that by helping Katayama he risked exposure, as well as a day's worth of travel to Fujian; but by declining he risked his reputation and tested his moral code. In addition, with Po and Mr. Ping, the likelihood of danger increased with their presence if Crane were to go with Katayama; however, were they to stay the course and continue to Fujian, they would miss out on an opportunity.
"Where is the village?" Crane asked promptly, refusing to waste any more time.
Katayama, on a personal level thrilled that his speech worked, for he was certain that it was going to fail, smiled and laughed triumphantly, his tail wagging as if he were domesticated. Gesturing to the west in the direction that he had emerged through the trees, the wolf slowly made his way to the tree line, his eyes scanning the distance for movement.
"Five miles on the bank of the Great River" Katayama answered, "Once you cut through the trees you'll reach a clearing, then the river bank. Across is home, Asena's Temple touching the sky."
Crane nodded in understanding and straightened his hat, his path, although not necessarily in the direction he wanted to go, had been laid out; all that was necessary was to take the first step.
"Po" Crane began, turning towards the panda, who had begun to eat the dumplings that he had offered, "Do you want to learn kung fu?"
Po smiled and nodded excessively, for this questions he had known the answer to for years and one that he had been answering for days.
"Yes!" Po exclaimed, spitting out food and wiping his mouth, "It's about time we do something fun! So, what are we goanna do?"
Crane shrugged nonchalantly and calmly made his way into the tree line, saying nothing and leaving the panda in relative suspense. Mr. Ping however, could only laugh and shake his head.
"What's so funny goose?" Katayama asked, confused with the sudden change of attitude and the exchange between Crane and Po, the wolf unaccustomed to being cast aside quickly as if he did not exist.
"Nothing" Mr. Ping replied as he folded the rag and gathered his things, "It's just funny."
Katayama growled and huffed again, at the same time extending his paw forward, allowing Mr. Ping to take the lead into the forest.
"Forgive me if I don't start laughing" Katayama replied as he shook himself free of flies, "Kind of hurts to move."
Mr. Ping, who immediately became concerned, ever the fatherly figure, once again produced his rag and proceeded to dab only for Katayama to brush him off indignantly.
"Stop pestering me" Katayama berated, trying to maintain his composure, "I am not one of your gooselings waiting to be fed, I am above such pity!"
Mr. Ping backed off, pocketing the rag, not wanting to risk a confrontation, lest he provoke him and become the main course for his next dinner. Although he doubted Katayama's desire to do so, that did nothing to change his thoughts on the matter; however, it was perhaps comforting that tragedy had so recently struck the wolf, his mind preoccupied with other, more important matters than food.
As they made their way through the trees and underbrush, they each could feel a sensation coming over them: for Crane and Po, it was one of belonging and purpose, that these next few steps would guide them on the road to success; for Mr. Ping, uncertainty, the thought of not knowing what was coming next bringing him down to a low point, causing the goose to sulk and worry obsessively. Katayama on the other hand, was not plagued by emotion, instead it was his memories that haunted him the most. He could still hear the screams, still smell the fire, and still see the bodies lying on the side of the river in the mud and as they lay dying in their own blood. The thought of meeting the horror, of confronting it head-on so soon after it had just taken place chilled him to the bone. Still, if there was any hope left in him of finding what remained of his family he placed it there; and if his family was nowhere to be found, he would at least be comforted with the knowledge of the truth, which was just as well.