Over the coming morning, rising earlier than usual, the monks dedicated themselves to helping those injured in the double attack, and starting the sadly familiar process of rebuilding the temple, same as ever when it was damaged in battle. The decimation of the shen gong wu vault was disheartening, but one plus, they felt, was that the only thing taken was one half of the Moby Morpher. The other half was likely never to be found by Bean, either, as it had been entrusted to...Jack.
Everywhere the group turned, there seemed to be some connection to Jack that made them give pause. It was so awkward, having a conversation only to mention something about the boy by accident. Having a meal without him. Passing by his robotics lab. Having Cyclops still around.
Cyclops was the most glaring part. The behemoth had been so happy to see them all home after the battle, his eye flicking eagerly for his favorite member of the party, only to puzzle when Jack wasn't there. Kimiko had offered him an awkward pat on the forearm as the group tried to explain that Jack just...wasn't coming back right now. Cyclops had made sad questioning sounds, prying for clarification again and again, not seeming to want to believe it. And then, when it had to be spelled out in no uncertain terms, he'd cried. Of course he'd cried. They all had, unable to prevent some quiet leaking tears at the mournful display. Most openly, Omi cried along, coming to hug Cyclops as the beast rocked in place.
Any moment throughout their tasks, actually, it seemed that the others could find Omi staring mournfully at nothing, whether through a window, or at the shen gong wu detection bot he'd taken to wear on his wrist. As part of the plans for repair, the subject of if they should do anything with Jack's lab, or his sleeping quarters, came up. Immediately, adamantly, Omi refused to clear or even touch the locations.
The others sympathized, and agreed to let it go for now. They wanted to be there for their friend. They were all grieving, but none of them had ever suffered a loss like this was to Omi. They couldn't know how it felt. All they knew was that it felt awful to watch their friend sink so low into a depression that he didn't even want to train.
Omi had never known pain could run this deep. It was like his very soul was writhing in agony, and no matter what he was doing, thoughts of Jack encompassed his mind more than they ever had. He didn't really want to stop those thoughts, either. Of course Jack shouldn't just be forgotten! So much they hadn't gotten to say. So much they hadn't gotten to do. Such terrible things Jack had been feeling. So many things about it Omi wanted to change. It just...it just felt like without Jack...nothing had any meaning. He knew it did, of course. The Xiaolin Dragon mission was always going to be important. But it was as if a part of Omi just wasn't there anymore. He was just going through the motions, constantly thinking of how things could have been different, and thinking about how they still could be. Like Jermaine had once reminded him, the monks did not live traditional lives. There had to be a means available to Omi.
When he did speak throughout the day, he ran through every method of time travel he'd ever experienced, speculating if any of them might be an option. Jack's time machine had been destroyed. Freezing himself was only good for moving forward. The Sands of Time shen gong wu was lost. The Hidoku Mouse was lost, and even then, too much time had passed to use that power of undoing a mistake.
Thoughts of somehow restoring the Last Call Casualty were thrown into the mix with this as well. Could time travel fix that? Could shen gong wu be fixed with normal glass blowing and metalcraft? How did Grand Master Dashi imbue the items with their magical attributes? Omi had seen him form a magic box out of a mere pebble before, during one time traveling adventure, but how could he know what made the item magic? Why had Dashi even seen fit to create a revival wu? Didn't he realize how extreme that was? Had he perhaps thought that maybe it could be used on himself? Had he intended to leave it for Master Monk Guan?
Seated on a lonely window bench, staring outside during supper, Omi suddenly perked as this thought crossed his mind. Master Monk Guan?!
Moments later, Omi charged into the large, cushion-filled room he and his friends watched movies in. The other three were here, resting and weary after their day of repair work and giving medical attention. Kimiko was on her laptop with headphones plugged in. Raimundo was sipping soda between levels of a handheld Goo Zombies game. Clay was whittling a nice little bed for his cowboy figurine.
All of them jolted animatedly at Omi's arrival, twisting to meet the boy as he skidded to a halt, exclaiming, "My friends! My friends! I know how to undo Jack's passing!"
"Mm?" Raimundo voiced, "What, did you think of something to fix the Last Call Casualty with? 'cause like, we thought about using Kimiko, like when she broke the Mosaic Scale, but the Last Call's like...beyond obliterated." Of course if they had their say, the entire team would have wanted Jack back. For all their brainstorming, however, they were starting to feel like this was something they were just going to have to accept.
A sharp finger swiped his way. "No! But!" Omi insisted, "What has happened is not something that cannot be un-done! Not when there exists a spirit like Chenghuang!" He refused to speak of Jack in terms of outright 'dying'.
A round of blinks from the others. Clay voiced, "Um...wanna run that by me again? What's eternal life got ta do with it?"
Skeptically, Raimundo challenged, "Uh, yeah, not a lotta good that's gonna do the Jack situation if he's already...y'know."
"But that is not my conclusion!" Omi insisted, "And, as you are no doubt curious, my brilliant conclusion is that if Chenghuang has power over life itself, then surely that means in addition to granting eternal life, it can simply grant regular life! Chenghuang could bring Jack back!"
More critical looks passed between the others, not wanting to put a damper on Omi's clear enthusiasm, but very much doubting this plan.
"Omi, are you sure about that, though..?" Kimiko questioned, "Guan never said anything about Chenghuang doing stuff like that."
"And it's always a super long trip, remember?" Raimundo added, "We need you here, dude. There's no time to even try looking."
Omi's hands slammed down onto a nearby low table. "Never again will I doubt my instincts regarding Jack Spicer!" he shot crossly, "It was ignoring my instincts and listening to you that wasted precious time previously! If we had not dallied our dillies, we may have reached Jack before he..!" He stopped himself before having to use the word.
The others began to look offended in turn, Raimundo retorting, "Hey, woah! You're not sayin' it's our fault, are you?!"
Gruffly, Omi grunted. "I am not accusing anyone. I am merely stating what has happened. If there is something I can do to make this right, I will. Jack did not deserve the fate he suffered."
"Well...true that," Clay agreed, "But you sure this idea's not more for..?" Trailing off, he cleared his throat, too timid to carry on that line of confrontation.
Kimiko finished the thought for him. "Yourself? Because you can't accept what happened?"
Omi's hands slammed again. "Of course I cannot accept what happened! And neither should you! Jack is a Xiaolin Dragon! Jack is our friend! Without him, we are lesser! How can you not feel the pain it brings to not have him here with us? It is unbearable!" Heavily, his arms folded and he slumped into them.
Passing looks around the room, the others had to agree it was a little offensive to act like they felt nothing. Of course if it was a possibility, they wanted to undo Jack's death. Without their master to ask, though, they couldn't say whether or not Chenghuang was the answer.
"I'm going to pretend like you didn't just say that about your team," Raimundo ruled, "But what I'm saying is, before we make any crazy decisions, let's at least do some research. We can't just go hunt down some super spirit on the chance it will – or can - do this..."
"You do not have to go," Omi returned steadfast, "Like Master Monk Guan, I will take the journey myself."
"So wait, you're just planning on abandoning us for some trip that might not even work?"
"If you insist to word it that way, then yes! I cannot remain here when there is a chance to save one of our own!"
With a lengthy groan, Raimundo bowed his head and raked both hands up his face and through his hair. "Jack isn't in a place where he can be 'saved' right now!" Sternly, he leaned forward to put his own hands on the table. "We need to stay together as a team. At least until we get this place fortified. Maybe we can look into it once we're in a good place, or at least get Jack's body back so we can bury him, but-"
"We are not burying him!" Omi insisted bluntly, sharply. In response, Raimundo's eyes flared. This was not the time to be talking back.
"Omi." Recognizing the authoritative tone, Omi blinked, but remained frowning as Raimundo informed, "I get it. I really do. But that doesn't give you the right to tell us that we don't feel the loss. And right now, you need to accept that this happened. Jack is dead. And we don't have the luxury of trying to fix that full time. We need to focus on keeping the rest of our home alive and protected." It might sound a little harsh, but the needs of the many outweighed the needs of the one. They only had so many resources, and being away from the temple had already opened it to two attacks, the latter of which had been quite devastating. If they weren't careful, they could lose Master Fung to boot. Now, while the temple was in shambles and its true leader was incapacitated, they couldn't afford to worry about a boy who was already dead. Not yet.
On the sidelines, Clay and Kimiko drew closer behind their leader, showing their solidarity with him.
At the mention of death, Omi's face tightened. His fingers clawed against the tabletop. "If you truly did feel the emptiness without his presence-!"
Feeling the electricity in the air, Kimiko put her palm up and said curtly, "Omi! Stop." Did he seriously think the rest of them didn't already feel like they'd failed Jack? Did he seriously think rubbing that in was going to solve anything?
Distracted, Omi's gaze snapped her way, finding the girl's own brow downturned in anger. She ordered, "Don't you dare finish that sentence. And before I lose it on you for even trying to blame us for this situation..." Without turning to face him, she reached to pass Raimundo a cellphone. "Call him."
Taking the phone, Raimundo looked from it to the girl who'd given it to him, and took a breath. She was right. They could all use a little grounding, and they needed to do a check-in anyway. Grateful he had insightful friends, he dialed.
Jermaine picked up. "Yo, Kim. What's the haps, girl?"
Clearing his throat into a fist, the Brazilian notified, "Actually, um...it's me. Everyone, really."
"Aw, yo, my B," Jermaine chuckled, "Hey, y'all checkin' in? 'cause good news, the Fungmeister's finally on the mend. They still got him under, but it's lookin' good. And better news, I think Dojo learned his lesson about sneakin' into the hospital past visiting hours." On the other end of the line, Jermaine passed a teasing smirk to the dragon draped around his neck.
Dojo sniped, "Hey, you try staying away when the person you hold most dear is suffering like this! I'll spend a thousand nights in the city pound for that man!"
Passing Dojo a sympathetic smile, Jermaine assured, "Chill, dude. I'm just playin'. He's right here, and he's doin' fine." He looked to the bed beside the chair he sat in, magazine on his lap.
Clasping his claws together, Dojo took a breath and looked over the sleeping elderly man himself. "Yes. Yes, he is." He seemed calmed by the reminder.
"That's great to hear," Raimundo mustered a smile to say, "Really. I'm glad. See, I knew you could handle it."
Smiling more softly, Jermaine relented, "Yeah...well, it ain't been easy. I don't envy you bein' in charge, that's for sure. I mean it's all good now, but I can't help but worry about what if, ya feel?" He was putting on a brave face for Dojo's sake, but inside he was a ball of tangled nerves. What if Master Fung took a turn for the worse? What if he never woke up? What if they had to decide to pull the plug? How could he ever console Dojo in that case? Even if he was good at pretending, he didn't have all the answers. Not even if it was for someone else's sake.
With this other worry voiced, the atmosphere in the temple quieted some. Raimundo offered plainly, "You're doing great."
In support, Clay called, "Tell Master Fung we're rootin' for him..!"
Kimiko granted, "We're with you all the way! All of you."
Raimundo nodded. "We're gonna have to deal with things as they come for a bit, but yeah, dude. We're with you. And it's great things are all good on your end, 'cause actually...we've got a bit of a situation that I'd kind of like your vote on." Having heard Dojo's profess, he already had an idea where one of them would lean, though. He also did not appreciate the way Omi was simply sending the other side of the table a hard stare, not even voicing support for the separated party. Meanwhile Omi felt a contradictory surge of bitterness and gratitude hearing Dojo, who was allowed to be with his precious partner, helping him, understood his own thoughts better than the rest of the team.
Jermaine blinked, taking the serious tone into account and matching it. "Aw man, for real? What's up?"
A hefty sigh. "Well...it's kind of about Jack."
A slower, heavier blink. "I'm listening."
Raimundo took another quick moment to prepare for breaching this topic. "So I know we're already one short with you gone and all, but Omi's got it in his head that that spirit thing we saw at Guan's would give Jack his life back...he wants to go find it and ask. Alone."
A contemplative pause, but it was only a few seconds before Jermaine replied, "I see." Another short beat. "You don't mean right now, though, right?"
"Of course right now!" Omi burst, "I do not even see the point in calling if it is just to ask this! We must return Jack to his place of correctness immediately!"
On the other end of the line, Jermaine sent the phone in his hand a sour squint. Omi was actually there? How come he was only speaking now? And so rudely. If Jermaine was honest, Omi's efforts in trying to be tactful around him had all but been a failure. When they'd first met was the only time things between them had been perfectly positive, and that likely had to do with the pair each playing guide to the other while showcasing their lifestyles. They'd each had a chance to be in charge and fascinated by something new and alien. The more they interacted, though, and especially after Jermaine had become a permanent part of Omi's world, the yellow boy had really started to show his true colors as Jermaine's worst friend. The fact that these words were what he chose to snipe down the phone at such a dire time, after Jermaine had only tried to comfort him in his time of mourning, did not make the New Yorker inclined to take his side. He was getting sick of being the only patient, supportive one in this relationship. And he didn't think Omi was right to begin with.
"Might be somethin' to think about, but for right now? Heck naw. We don't even know the real deal with that thing."
Omi bristled. "What?!" Jermaine was the one who'd insisted Jack would be fine in the first place! Who was he to tell him to sit back when there was a chance to bring Jack home?!
Ignoring that, Raimundo informed, "Yeah, well that was another reason we thought we could bring it up when we called. Dojo, you lived through when that thing was popular, right? Just for the sake of closure, do you know if Chenghuang does revivals?"
"Closure?! There is nothing to close!" Omi insisted in the background.
"Wow. Chenghuang?" Dojo echoed awkwardly around the interruptions, "Man, has it been a while since I've heard that name...um." Distracted in trying to recall information on that being, he scratched his chin and stared thoughtfully into space for a moment. "I mean technically it's not something people usually talked about? Chenghuang's whole schtick is immortality, after all. But I suppose if it felt like it, I mean it's not really outside the realm of possibility..."
"Ha-ha!" Omi burst, feeling incredibly validated.
"Still wouldn't bet your britches on it," Dojo continued, causing Omi to frown again, "That spirit is veeeery touchy about the balance of life energy in the universe. It's famously stingy about handouts, which is why it lost popularity in the first place. Most folks thought it just wasn't worth the risk. I mean there's the finding it, and the potential starving or getting into a mountain accident on the way, and then you still gotta convince it what you're asking is even worthy. It doesn't always like what it hears, you know. And sure, most of the time Chenghuang's a pretty chill spirit, but man, you do not want to tick it off with some frivolous, selfish request!"
The team's collective gazes flicked for Omi, who bristled and formed his own glower back. They didn't understand! Yes, he was on edge over the shock of the loss, but it was like Guan said – he couldn't let this lie! Jack did not deserve this fate, and he couldn't let the others treat this like it was nothing! They had ways to fix time! Didn't they understand the urgency? Didn't they understand how nothing else was in Omi's mind but those last moments of Jack's life, and the fleeting hope yanked from him by Chase Young? That sweet taste of hope had been the most desperate need Omi had ever experienced. And having experienced that, the contrast of going without the other boy was life and death itself. Omi didn't care if it had only been a day. Jack was dead, and being without him, knowing that simple fact, was killing Omi! He needed Jack to live! Whatever suffering Guan had described that drove him to pursue Chase, this was so much worse!
Looking back to the phone with a degree of concern, unable to help worrying about potential consequences for his friend, even if he was being unreasonable right now, Raimundo asked, "What happens if it doesn't like your request..?"
Dojo hemmed, "Ehhhh, well, sometimes nothing. It just sends you on your way. But sometimes...it eats you."
The group gasped, and even Omi paused for a second to hear that.
"Eats you?" Kimiko echoed, "I thought you said it didn't like imbalance!"
Unseen to them, Dojo shrugged. "A lot of the old spirits are harsh judges like that. Pretty gross, if you ask me. Never liked hanging out with those types. But if Chenghuang thinks you disrespect the gift of life enough, it decides you don't deserve it. I heard it puts all that extra life force it isn't using into the great soul lantern it guards, just waiting for the right time and place to send bits of it back out. Like a bank!"
"Charming," Kimiko commented flatly. The cute simile didn't help, in her opinion.
Clay chipped in, "Sounds to me like this really ain't the best option, then. We'd best sit tight and keep lookin', right?" He glanced over to Raimundo, who nodded and turned to look at Omi.
"We'll think of something," the brunette assured, "But this Chenghuang thing is too risky."
"Word. Don't be spreadin' us too thin, either," Jermaine added. It would be hypocritical to send him out on his own, saying as many as possible needed to stick together, and then let Omi wander off.
The shortest monk's shoulders slumped hearing this verdict ring unanimously. His team truly did not feel the same need as he. How disheartening. However, a fresh roil awakened in Omi's gut after a mere second considering their request that he stay put. As much as Omi understood that others were in need right now, no one was as in need as Jack. He couldn't explain it, but every instinct in his body was telling him to go to that boy. That he could save him. And he'd sworn he was never going to ignore his instincts about that boy again.
Bowing his head, Omi neatened his posture and respectfully granted, "Very well. I respect your stance on this matter."
The others blinked, having expected the yellow boy to get combative again, but perhaps hearing there was a real possibility of losing his own life while trying to return Jack's had made him realize where his priorities should lie. It was better to wait and find a guaranteed way to alter the events. Or, if there was none, then it would be better to accept the loss than add to it.
With the atmosphere cleansed of tension, the team continued chatting on the phone for a bit before giving their regards to Jermaine and hanging up. Omi mentioned that he had some dinner to finish before turning in for the night, and the others accepted this, knowing it was about time to think about bed themselves.
Omi did return to his meal, but as he finished it, he brought with him a piece of paper and a pen. He wrote, "If there is a chance to act, then I must act. I am sorry, my friends, but I simply cannot do nothing. The odds do not matter. Things must be made right, and there is an option to try. Therefore, my only option is to follow it. I bear no ill will in my departure, and I trust Raimundo will hold your forting well enough without me. I only hope you understand why I must do this. Until my return, Omi".
Hoping he'd captured the somber gravity of the situation, he left this note on his pillow, along with Jack's wristband robot. These his friends would find in the daylight, Omi having stolen away as soon as he was sure his teammates were asleep. Upon finding and reading it while flanked by his two remaining teammates, however, Raimundo's brow would darken and he'd crumple the note in frustration. A matching grunt sounded.
"That slippery toad..." Clay hemmed, almost impressed. He'd thought for certain Omi understood the team's decision.
More on the side of disappointment and disgruntle, Kimiko polled, "Are we going after him?" Holding the wrist-worn robot, she opted to put it on. As the only remaining local tech expert, she felt qualified.
Eyes closed, resolute, Raimundo declared, "We don't have time to worry about stuff like this. We need to keep this place secure, mostly by making sure we have walls again! He's gone. Let him do what he wants. Not like he left us much choice." Tossing the balled-up paper over his shoulder, Raimundo marched away to get dressed. He was essentially the stand-in for Master Fung right now. He couldn't leave. And he couldn't spare any other Dragon Warriors to go hunt down a wayward defector. It was better not to waste energy fighting Omi if he didn't want to be here anyway. The little sneak had gotten his way. He should be happy about it. Raimundo needed to make due with the half of his team there was left.
And make use he did. Clay was instrumental as always in reconstruction, able to patch cracks with a sweep of his hand, churn huge loads of clay mixture and form it into sections of wall all at once. Meanwhile Kimiko offered to take some time in Jack's laboratory and see if she could get some of the Jackbots up and running. She'd spoken to Jack about his programming, after all, and even if they weren't quite on the same wavelength as engineers, especially since Kimiko had never built anything from scratch, the temple could use the added protection.
Cyclops, amid all of this, was despondent. He sat in one portion of garden, knees drawn to his chest and twirling a topiary around his finger as he watched the gate. Rather than partake in roofing or guard duties, as he normally might have, he held out hope that he'd still see the fire-headed boy return. He understood that he'd been told Jack was dead, but maybe, just maybe, he wasn't. Maybe the team was mistaken. Maybe he'd misheard. Maybe Jack would miss him and stop being dead. It was just so hard to believe that his caretaker wasn't coming home. It was a small blessing that Cyclops didn't have the capacity to consider his role in letting Chase's cats kidnap Jack. His puppy-like pining was hard enough to watch.
…
After the work was done for the day, this time Raimundo fetched the Treasure of the Blind Swordsman, which he had been keeping in his own quarters. After it had been stolen, he'd been reminded of his choice to leave it out of his sight once before resulting in the same fate, and this time they'd all been harshly reminded of just how evil that item could be in the wrong hands. Now, he had the box sat in the courtyard, trying everything he could to prevent history from repeating itself again. He just didn't trust this thing to exist.
With a lengthy cry, the Brazilian boy swung a halberd crashing down with all his might. The impact left no marks on the shimmering magic wood, and instead caused the metal weapon tip to crack and snap off the end of the pole it sat on. This flew to land among the ends of similar weapons smattering the surrounding ground. With a grimace, Raimundo let out a frustrated growl.
"What is is gonna take to get rid of this thing?!" he spouted to the evening air, giving the box a hearty kick. It tipped backwards, but otherwise remained as pristine and regal as ever. "Kimiko can't toast you, Cyclops can't roast you, and Clay can't smash you to a pulp! What are you made of, the most immortal wood in the universe?!" The others had opted to give up in joining this task for the day, but Raimundo was desperate to try just a bit longer. He had some steam to work off anyway.
Regarding that, the word 'immortal' triggered his memory of Omi and his stupid idea to go after a dangerous, far-off deity. Raimundo's hackles raised again, a fresh growl escaping. Stupid Omi, always thinking he was right! Always being selfish! And this time it was for what, a chance that he could bring his boyfriend back? Why couldn't he see reason, and at least wait until the team could find something as reliable as the Treasure of the Blind Swordsman?
All at once, Raimundo froze, blinking at the upturned box before him. Then he slapped a palm to his face.
Kneeling down, the spiky-haired boy grabbed the treasure and righted it, thinking Omi wasn't the only idiot not to have realized this. Suddenly a lot more timid, Raimundo opened the lid. As calmly as ever, the swordsman within rose from the depths of the box, awaiting interaction.
Fingers laced, feeling like the spirit would be a lot less receptive after the beating its home had been receiving, Raimundo started, "Hey, uh...sorry about all that 'why won't you just get destroyed' stuff...but it's kind of a good thing you're so tough, 'cause I just realized you can solve a lot of problems at once for us. Would you mind bringing Jack Spicer back to life? And by extension make Omi have to turn his sorry butt around and take responsibility for abandoning his home in a time of need?"
The Swordsman looked confused. "I am sorry?" the ghostly warrior wondered, "I sense no tension or looming shadow of dark fate over this place. What is it you are desiring?"
Letting out a breath, Raimundo decided that yes, bringing his personal beef into this wouldn't be helpful. Getting right to the point, he requested, "I need you to bring Jack Spicer back to life. That dude you killed just the other day without hesitating? You can undo that, right? You do like...everything."
Seemingly feeling no remorse at the bitterly-tinged accusation, the Swordsman at least realized what was being asked of him. "Ah. I can." He raised his hands to his core, but paused. "However, it seems to me that there are already actions in motion to fulfill this wish. Are you sure this is something you cannot accomplish without my assistance?"
Not expecting to get a counter-argument, Raimundo quirked his brow. "Uh, yeah? If you can do it, just do it, will ya? It'll be way faster than Omi's stupid idea. Snap snap." Miming how easy having the Swordsman perform the task would be, the tan boy snapped his fingers twice with his words. Just imagine, Omi getting all the way out to that barren wasteland, only to find Jack already up and about. Or even better, Jack already gone, and upon returning home, finding him waiting with the others. Ha! That'd teach him to disobey his leader.
Again seeming doubtful, the Swordsman had other thoughts. "Ah, between you and that other boy, I do sense a looming discourse...be wary, young warrior, for the wish one thinks they want may not always truly be."
Annoyed, Raimundo shot, "Dude, what gives with the sermon here? Aren't you supposed to just do what your master tells you?"
"It is your very intent that stays me," the Swordsman informed, "I sense a terribly conflicting aura. The nature of my orders are not generally so muddled. Do you wish to establish superiority over your fellow warrior? Or do you wish to protect all that you hold dear?"
A short blink. "Well...I...both, really...or...what's that got to do with just bringing Jack back?"
"More than you might realize." The ghostly warrior was completely at one with the universe, and understood the consequences of his actions more than anyone. Greedy wishes were actually much easier to grant, for there was such a simplistic desire behind them. Give me this. Kill this person. The aftermath might be bad, but it was always straightforward. The monks normally asked rather simple things of him, too. Give us transportation. Turn me into this guy. Even if for a good cause, they were still greedy wishes at heart. But now, for the first time in a long time, a master was making demands that needed the utmost clarity.
Faltering, Raimundo's hands shifted around awkwardly, the boy not understanding what was so difficult. "What do you...well I...I mean I guess..." Letting out a new breath, he relented, "I guess it's not really a question. I want to protect my home. And everyone I love."
A short, even nod from the Swordsman. "Then, there is nothing more I can do for you. Death is best for the dead."
Shoulders hunching, Raimundo really didn't understand. "What?! So you're not gonna do anything?! How is doing nothing gonna keep us safe?! We're more split up and vulnerable than we've ever been!"
"Peace, young warrior," the Swordsman answered calmly, "Everything is already in motion."
Raimundo's face soured, unimpressed. "This is because I kicked you, isn't it?"
"Any satisfaction I may gain from your frustrations is merely coincidental."
Sagging, Raimundo just let out a long, "Uuuugh..!" The Treasure was totally enjoying this out of spite.
"If I may," the Swordsman added, drawing Raimundo's attention once more, "Your goal to eliminate me is a first to arise among any master. And the most wise wish any has ever had."
Raimundo blinked.
"When giving myself up to this power, I did not foresee the consequences of my being the way I do now. It is a power much too great to belong in this modern world. Too great for any side to possess. There is only one way to remove it, and though I may not be able to tell you outright, the answers we seek may often be right in front of our face."
Raimundo blinked again, lips dropping partly open. No way. The Swordsman thought his power was too much to be in the hands of the wrong or right people, and he approved of Raimundo trying to destroy him? What's more, he'd just connected the dots and handed the answer to Raimundo on a silver platter.
"Hey...Swordsman dude..? Would you mind...destroying your box forever?"
Softly, the Swordsman offered a smile, the strongest sign of emotion he'd given the entire conversation. It was like he'd been waiting to hear that request for a very long time. Then, silently, he raised his hands to his chest as they began to glow. A yellow light formed between them as a heavy wind picked up. Raimundo watched in awe as the glow spread, engulfing the ghostly figure and the box below, which was slowly being ripped apart by the wind. The pieces spiraled upward and swirled into the growing glow, until the shining yellow disc was all that remained in the spiraling air.
Then, in one sudden blink, the light was gone, the breeze now gentle, carrying a swirl of leaves as the only remnant of what once was. This too, stilled, and Raimundo reached out to catch as one leaf drifted to light on his palm. Gently, he closed his fist and looked up into the darkening twilight. He hoped the Swordsman was right.
…
Omi arrived on foot to the reddened wastelands. He'd brought next to nothing, prepared for what he knew was to be a journey of raw fortitude. What he hadn't prepared for, though he thought he had, was the outline of Jack Spicer, still in the same place he'd been two days ago.
Pace quickening, Omi darted forward, feeling as though he was being choked by an invisible foe. On his knees, he slid, picking up Jack's head and laying it to rest on his thighs. No...
The surroundings told the tale of the scuffle all over again. The tracks in the dirt. The puddles of metal. The dust on Jack's face.
Stroking Jack's cheek now with his thumb, clearing it of one such smudge, Omi felt water welling in his eyes and bit his lips. How had Jack ended up on his back, anyway? What were these skidmarks? Had something happened to him? Or had he truly not been..?
With a strained cry, Omi hunched forward to crush around Jack's head in a tight hug. Even seeing it like this, he just couldn't accept it! How could anyone accept this? Stupid Raimundo! Trying to make him stay home when Jack was like this! He was just on an unsympathetic power trip! If Omi had had to look at his so-called leader's face again today, he could only imagine a great rift forming from the ensuing fight over that very point. Possibly a rift he couldn't ever truly forgive.
Even if Jack wasn't breathing, however, just being here with him comforted Omi in a strange way. Omi was here. Jack could be touched. Omi could make things better. Slowly, the yellow boy's thoughts focused more on this, and how he wasn't going to let anything stand between them again. Death would not claim that satisfaction.
As his own breaths evened, Omi loosened his arms to cradle Jack loosely once more. Raking his fingers softly through Jack's hair to neaten it, he laid the pale boy flat and crossed his arms over his chest for easier transport. Then, with one short, solemn kiss to Jack's forehead, Omi summoned a thick, frosty swirl to his palms. He swept these over Jack's body as a hard casing of ice formed, and soon the taller boy was solidly entombed in a clear, rectangular coffin block. Silently, this Omi hoisted onto his back with a lashing of rope, and he once more began to walk.
…
Not so far away, Chase Young was returning to his home, disheveled and on the edge of another violent breakdown. How?! How was he losing control of everything like this?! And all at once! No more Omi! No more Jack! No more allies! He couldn't even take the opportunity to defeat Bean while he had it! And what was his consolation prize? At best, he'd taken out a worthless old man!
Weary and winded from the fight on top of everything, Chase's breath was heavy as he levitated himself to the top of his cliffside home with what remained of his dragon powers. The choice of dwelling was a bit regrettable now, all things considered.
An unexpected sight awaited him at the top of that cliff, however. Eyes widening, he saw yet another familiar face turn to look his way. There, patiently seated on a rock to the left of the remains of his doorway, spear leaned to rest beside him, was Guan.
The robed man smiled upon seeing the other, and rose to greet him. A strange reaction in Chase's opinion by any count.
"Hello, old friend," Guan welcomed, taking his spear casually with him as he stepped forward, "I would have tidied up, but I did not want to intrude, even of the door is...very open. Heheh."
"What do you want, Guan?" Chase growled lowly, clearly on edge, "Come to join the confounding parade of old faces set on driving me into the dirt? How much lower do you think I can sink?"
Frowning now, Guan took a sigh. "I did not come to fight you...Chase." As a sign of this, he swung his arm forward, releasing his trusted, treasured spear to clatter to the dust between them. "I am here because of Chenghuang. And...for Dashi."
Though beaten, Chase found the energy to straighten his spine at this. The very weapon he'd stolen once to deliver a blow to Guan's own willpower, thrown before him...and of course, the names. In the black clouds above, lightning shattered almost in emphasis of the tension they brought.
"Chase," Guan appealed as a low breeze gathered in the atmosphere, "You are no longer immortal. I know this because I too have had my immortality revoked. Our time grows short on this Earth, and I do not wish for it to be wasted. Too long has already been wasted on an eternal conflict, I fear. Please..." Here, he reached a hand forward and tried another small smile. "For the sake of the brotherhood, let us forget our strife, and turn to enjoying what we have left."
Chase was silent, staring at that hand with a slack face. He truly didn't know how to react. Here, at his lowest point, his oldest friend and foe returned to him, expressing a desire to just forget all of their friction and make up. Forget good, forget evil. Just offering him one friendly face among all who had turned against him.
"Well," the long-haired man noted evenly, "You certainly sound like Dashi, I'll give you that. So simple-minded and soft."
Letting a note slide from his nose, Guan knew he should have expected Chase to be defensive.
"I know this must have been a blow to you," he reasoned, "You have looked better." Chase gave a curt grunt, but Guan merely put his hands up in sheepish defense, continuing, "But even if you do not give up your quest for power, how long can you truly enjoy it compared to the centuries you've lived in pursuit of it?"
Stiffly, Chase spat, "It is none of your business how I choose to spend my remaining days, Guan. I certainly do not wish to spend it faffing about with you sleeping in pigstys."
A good-natured chuckle from the bald monk. "Well, I did not say we should spend our time exactly like Dashi..."
"Regardless," Chase returned, "My business is none of yours, immortal or otherwise. In fact, it's quite foolish of you to drop your weapon and your guard before me. Even weakened, I am more than a match for you. How do you know I won't just rid myself of you on the spot?"
"If you intended to," Guan beamed, unwavering, "You would have already done so."
Another moment passed while the winds blew between them. Another, more distant roil of thunder flashed through the sky.
Chase stepped to turn his back. "Leave my sight, Guan," he ordered simply, "There is nothing left between us worth salvaging. For the sake of the brotherhood, as you say, I will let us part ways peacefully, but that is the only courtesy I will grant you."
"I will not accept that." Closer, a flash of lightning illuminated Guan as he held fast, and Chase drew upward with an inhale at the challenge. Guan took a step forward, pushing, "There can be no more delays or next times or partings. You do not know how much time you have left. I do not know how much time I have left. That is what it is to be mortal!"
A strong gust of wind picked up through the silence.
Seeing Chase only clench his fists in reaction to his words, Guan pressed, "Dashi never wasted a single second. We have wasted hundreds of years on the same petty power struggle. I know you must feel it has all been as wasted as I do with nowhere left to go. Please, before it is too late, let us give our brother a reason to smile down on us. Let us take mortality with dignity. Together."
Chase stared out over the wasteland he ruled, glad he'd turned his back on Guan, as his words pierced the black-haired man more than he'd ever want to admit. He was glad for the wind whipping his face, and the sprinkle of rain that had started, a latent instinct like tears shamefully having gathered in his eyes, being hidden by droplets and dried by gusts. Chase hadn't even thought himself capable of feeling these emotions anymore. Attachment. Shame. Regret. Hope. How disgusting of Guan to wrench them to the surface like this and make him feel weak. This had to be his goal, to weaken Chase so he could gain the upper hand. He was probably waiting to strike right this instant.
Whipping around, Chase determined that he wasn't going to let that happen. He wasn't going to cave to such manipulative words, either! He wouldn't fall for it!
"You won't-!"
Guan hadn't moved, but Chase cut himself off as a different sight caught his attention. Behind Guan's back, a swarm of jungle cats was prowling out of the darkness of the ruined doorway, licking their lips and flicking their tails with open intent. At this, Chase's posture straightened once more, and he let out a short laugh. Yes, his loyal minions..! They would surely dispatch Guan one way or another! Force the good monk and his seductive reasoning to leave him be!
Guan turned to notice the advance and gasped, swiftly sliding back to his spear to kick it up into his hands, but his ready stance was ignored, the cats curiously moving around him. Brow raised, he followed them with his head, just as surprised as Chase to find the cats surrounding their master with his back to the cliff's edge.
"What is this?" Chase challenged, flicking his reptilian eyes between feline ones, "You fools, I did not ask for a welcome wagon! There, Guan is your opponent – remove him from my doorstep!"
In time with a fresh flash of lightning directly overhead, a lion leapt forward with a mighty snarl. Chase's eyes bulged in angered stun and he dodged, the lion tumbling off the cliff as it landed where he'd been, but digging its claws in hard as it slipped, and regaining enough ground to swipe at the dragon man's legs, toppling him. As he fell and the lion scraped its way back onto solid ground, the rest of the cats swarmed forward, a panther first to land its paws squarely on Chase's chest.
"Chase!" Guan gasped, hurrying forward to defend his friend, swinging his spear at the back of the horde to try and thin it enough to get closer. As such, he earned the ire of a pair of jaguars, who did turn their attention to beating him back.
Meanwhile, Chase thrashed back against his biting, clawing minions, still bewildered and becoming more enraged every second.
"You stupid, mindless cretins!" he burst, choking a tiger as he kicked a cougar in the throat, "What is the meaning of this?! I am your master!" Meeting the eyes of the lion from earlier, he saw it narrow its eyes and slowly shake its head before crouching. It pounced back into the fray without another thought. Chase barely managed to find space to roll out of the way, lugging up the animal he choked as a shield. The lion clashed with it and the pair tumbled away, giving Chase a split second he happily took to stand. As well, Guan spotted this opening and thrust the end of his spear into the ground, vaulting to Chase's side and standing back to back with him.
"What is happening, old friend?" he asked, "Why do they turn on you?"
There only being one explanation that came to mind, Chase rasped, "They think I'm weak...like you do!" To the crowd of regrouping cats, he spat, "I am not weak! Defeated, low, battered, but never weak! I will never be unfit as your master! I made you!" Eyes widening as he said that, he realized that that very fact might be a contributing factor. They had borrowed some of his own magic with the spell that he'd used to enslave them and immortalize them by his side, and if he no longer wielded such power...
"Which..." Chase muttered to Guan, "They might have realized means I can no longer provide my own essence to sustain my end of their bargain..."
"Well," Guan returned, "It is lucky, in that case, that your brother has got your back, and I will not allow you to perish before I finish my mission! Together!"
Hating it, but on cue, Chase thrust a twin palm strike outward as Guan shifted to kick while guarding with his staff. En masse, the cats pounced, and the pair in the center shifted around each other, delivering blows to match. Guan rolled over Chase's back to fend off overhead. Chase hooked Guan's elbow to counter a pounce midair. Guan gave Chase the end of his spear and let loose the chain, both men hooking several cats by the throat and repelling them with a synchronized hurl.
Seeing the two masters join forces, the cats' eyes flashed and they snarled in anger, not put off from attacking altogether. Rather, they began to stand. One by one, the warriors turned from jungle cats into humans, bringing with them their weaponry manifested into their hands, and a more fiery spirit.
The rain was thick now, wetting the ground that the eternal warriors wasted no time taking advantage of. One kicked their shield down and barreled forward atop it, employing teamwork with another to use their own hook maneuver to trip their targets. It didn't trip the them, but it did force them to separate as they scrambled out of the way. Arrows fired, which Guan deflected, deploying one end of his spear to strike one away from hitting Chase's face as he grappled with a bare-fisted fighter.
It became a frenzy, the sheer cliff dangerous terrain already, and only amplified by the weather. One warrior tempted fate by leaping to clamp themselves around Chase's back and raising their halberd high in the air, clearly hoping to take the man out in a kamikaze blast of lightning.
Lightning did strike, as well. Guan had only barely noticed the warrior attempting this summons, and made a dive. The impact forced the clinging warrior to drop the weapon, and an explosion of electricity hit the center of the field, leaving wide scorch marks and a long, burning handle behind.
Guan helped Chase up as fast as he could, prying the clinging party off of his ally. While he did this, however, another arrow flew, causing Chase to hiss and wince as it struck him square in his hip joint. Meanwhile, one of the warriors was taking interest in the brightly-burning rod, taking a bladder from their belt and reaching to pick the suddenly-available fire up.
Distracted by Chase's injury, Guan called for his companion, hurriedly trying to support him and suss out where the shot had come from, while also fending off the pair of mace wielders he'd just been fighting. He was only one man, however, and as Chase sank, so did he, trying to stay close to the other as his leg gave out. But to his dismay, Guan was grabbed roughly by a pair of hands from the two he'd been facing, and thrown. He landed on his front back by the door, wind knocked out of him, but as he pushed himself back up, alert to any incoming attacks, he found that there were none.
Every single warrior had their focus set on Chase. So long as Guan wasn't in their way, they paid him no mind. Hand to his chest, Guan forced himself upright, calling Chase's name again and stumbling as he tried to move forward. The fallen man was being swarmed. In his already battle-worn state, there was no way he could stand up to so many of the most skilled fighters throughout history. And Guan couldn't break through that crowd.
A vicious, inhuman roar sounded suddenly, and the crowd of warriors erupted backwards, stumbling as well from the force expelling them. At the center of it, though hunched and heaving, Chase stood, transformed. He hated to do this as well, knowing he was only shortening his lifespan by using the magic that let him do it, but preferring it to the alternative of dying without even properly fighting back.
Lurching forward with heavy steps, Chase snapped his powerful jaws and whipped his trunk-like tail, forcing those around him to back away. Relieved, Guan beamed and let out a breath, moving forward to support the other again.
His relief lasted only a second, however, as cutting in front of his view, a cloaked back swept in. In one hand was an open bladder. In the other, a long, flaming pole. In horror, Guan watched as this warrior swung both the bladder and the pole. Liquid poured from the container, splashing over the pole as it moved and igniting, flaring into a wall of flames. The momentum carried the caught liquid forward with the swipe, shooting that wall forward and splattering over Chase.
In agony, Chase roared out. Though he'd turned away, the entire left half of his body was hit with the incendiary attack, and whatever liquid had been used kept it alight and on his body. Writhing, he dropped, slowly shrinking back into the form of a man, much to the delight of the crowd of warriors, who all lifted their arms in revelry. And while they cheered, Guan gawped in disbelief. No..! His mission, his brother..!
Rushing forward, he collapsed to Chase's side and hastily tried to stamp out the flames, but they only sprang back up as his palms lifted. Guan cursed the rain for not dousing the flames any better. What good was water if it couldn't put out fire?! All around, his vain efforts were met by a chorus of laughter and whoops as Chase's movements weakened and his breath became shallow. His flesh was deeply black on his face by this point, and his clothes and armor had also charred or melted, clearly leaving similar wounds underneath.
In desperation, Guan rolled Chase over into a puddle, and though it was shallow, as he scooped handfuls over his old friend and wiped away the incendiary liquid, finally, the flames were snuffed. Chase's eyes were closed, however, and he wasn't responding. Blood trickled from his mouth and his leg wound.
"Chase..! Chase!"
Shifting the other man as carefully as he could in his panic, Guan held and shook him, begging the powers that be to wake him up.
Further amused by this, the crowd shared smirks and nods of approval. And, feeling their deed done when minutes passed without change, grew bored and leapt off the sides of the cliff, off to see what new chaos there was to be stirred in a world that was now their oyster.
Unseen to anyone, above the stormy scene, a grey parrot and its rider had been circling. Almost surprised to see the turn of events that had taken place, Bean took a moment to have a short chuckle as the show drew to a close.
"Well," he mused to his pet, "So much for stoppin' by to finish our quarrel uninterrupted." Another chuckle. "Guess that makes things a little easier. Just a shame Ah couldn't take him out myself." As Ying Ying swooped to turn away from the scene below, Bean looked down at the dragon man one last time and spat dismissively. His final words before putting the man out of his mind were a short, "Ah always knew you were weak."
Down below, Guan was not giving up. He ripped the robes draped over his shoulder and wrapped Chase as best he could, heaving him up into his arms and staggering to bring him to the shelter of the doorway. The rubbed his palms into his cold face. He snapped the arrow shaft sprouting from Chase's charred hip. He performed artificial respiration. He could not let things end like this! He could not let his brothers down! Either of them!
Unbelievably, after what felt like endless toil, Guan saw movement behind Chase's eyelids. The aura of life came back into him, even if weak. And his eyelids opened, though the words he managed were concerning.
"What...where am I? What is this fog? What have you ingrates done to me?!" As he tried to move, he hissed and curled tightly in pain.
"Chase..! Be still," Guan assured, "There is no fog. The warriors have gone, and I am treating you." Though concerning, at least there were words.
"No fog?" Chase echoed, "Then what do you call this milky grey mist ensconcing my vision? You cannot be Guan! You are a trickster!" Once more he lashed out, only to once more recoil in agony.
Placing a hand to Chase's shoulder, Guan pleaded, "Do not move, old friend..! Your injuries are great. I fear if I do not treat them more properly, they could claim you. I fear they nearly did. And if you are seeing only fog...then I'm afraid your eyes may have already been lost."
"What?! Lunacy!" Chase could not accept a single word of it! How could anyone overpower him so drastically? How could his mere minions he'd kept so neatly under his thumb for centuries, accomplish bringing him to the brink of death? He was so far above them! And yet, as he struggled against Guan's hand keeping him down, he could not deny that he'd felt the struggle in that battle. His memory was as hazy as his vision towards the end of it, but he knew he'd succumbed. The pain he was in told him the truth of the matter more than well to boot. But still, he refused to accept it.
"Crow!"
Desperately, he called for his familiar. As he did, his vision awakened, seeing the inside of his fortress. The echoing call drew the attention of the bird, and Chase watched with clear sight through its eyes as it zoomed from the alcove it had been resting it, down the hall, through the demolished throne room, and out the front door. Through its eyes, Chase watched it soar into a graceful loop outside, and turn to face him. In an out of body experience, he saw himself, lying there in the entryway, looking a pitiful husk of himself, bloodied and bandaged as Guan knelt beside him, the picture of worry.
Chase stilled, absorbing the scene as Crow came in gently to land, scanning his own body over through the bird's eyes. He bent low, looking into his own eyes as he stilled, agape.
One eye...wasn't even there anymore. It was a charred black hole. And the other...it was no longer reptilian, the iris reverted back to its original human circle. It was cloudy, showing signs of a blunt strike, possibly residual burns.
"T...Traitor!" Chase burst now, turning his rage on Guan. Guan jumped, trying to stop the fresh wave of thrashing as Chase accused, "You abandoned me! You wanted me to end up like this! You wanted me to die!" He tried to launch himself at the other man, Crow fluttering out of the way in startle.
More accusations flew amid Guan's insistent protests and pleas for Chase to take it easy. It seemed he truly could not accept the state of things as they were. Then, suddenly, Chase hunched and vocally vomited a short splatter of blood and bile. His breath rattled as he dangled off Guan's shoulders, before all strength was lost and he collapsed.
Panicked, Guan tried to ease the fall, and laid Chase back down on a makeshift pillow of torn cloth.
Shuddering as he breathed, Chase let his eyes close as pain rocked him from his very core. Physical, and emotional. What was he now? Every goal he'd ever had was out of his reach. He hadn't taken over the world. He hadn't killed Bean. He hadn't won over his successor. He hadn't even killed the insect Jack Spicer. And the only one here at the end of it all was the best friend he'd abandoned to chase those goals in the first place. Essentially, he was back at square one, and all the worse off for it.
He was nothing now. He shouldn't need to live. If he had failed, then let him fail properly!
Only...here, at death's door, the true finality of that notion rang in his mind loudly like a church bell. He didn't want to die. Anything but dying. And dying so unceremoniously, after he'd been so ready to think ahead like he always did...no. He didn't want to. Guan had saved him, and he was almost grateful for the notion, for in the end, even Chase Young was as cowardly to oblivion as anyone.
"I suppose this is how much farther I could have fallen..." he noted dryly. Tears gathered visibly in his broken eyes as he finally realized the reality of the situation. "But I don't want this to be how much time I had left." Turning his unseeing eyes toward his oldest friend, in a voice quieter and more full of fear than he'd ever used, he asked, "Guan...with every fiber of my being you know it pains me to need...but I must ask...for your...help..."
The last word held an actual tremor, the fear of death blanching his face as he begged for salvation at his lowest point.
Heart wrenching at this pathetic display, Guan could only be glad his dear companion was finally willing to accept his extended hand. "Of course, old friend..."