Xiaolin Showdown Fan Fiction ❯ Dark Waters ❯ Possibilities Beyond Opened Doors ( Chapter 1 )

Chapter 2 Page Count: 43 /Chapter 2 Word Count: 22,944
Dark Waters
By: Nasyki Ikysan
Betas: Chaos inducer, crystal tears of betrayal
Chapter 2 (Possibilities Beyond Opened Doors)

His head hurt so bad and he wanted...no he didn't want...he knew it was bad to touch those spikes...even if he couldn't remember why it was bad...he needed to feel the spikes on his skin...pierce through his skin, so bad...so...so...bad...
Omi opened his eyes, intent on fulfilling the urge of touching the spinning wheel's needle; his blood burned, his head ached, and his skin cried desperately for it. Lifting one shaking hand he reached out for the darkness; just when he thought that he couldn't take it any more, a sudden light cut through the darkness in the form of splinters that held scorching intensity. The feeling alone left his eyes burning, burning as if he had touched them to open flame. They stung and watered as though thrown into the inferno of a blazing conflagration. He closed his lids against the light, and screamed again… Holding to him self, as there was no escape from the unknown burn; until his throat went hoarse, he screamed.

Scene One of Five

Omi’s piercing wail found itself lodged in his parched throat when a pale hand reached out of the light like the curse of an angel. Five small wisps that were fingers wound themselves into the cloth of his shuddering shoulder; firm against his arm in a stern support to calm him. Whether the gesture’s aim was working as intended or not remained unseen, as it was just as possible that his voice stopped screaming out of the calming touch or for the terror that came with it. Either way, the lithesome body had ceased all struggle and seemed only tight in the alert contraction of muscles. Through all the knots, his very voice seemed to have been squeezed out of his yellowed face, kissed golden in the newly discovered light; the only sounds that managed to be uttered through his mouth were incoherent jumbles, doused whimpers. His entire body had been thrust into a cold sweat and he felt the air around him shaking in time to his uncontrollable tremors. The grip on his arm tightened and in his weakly state the only response he could muster was a shallow gasp. Nothing registered in his head; it just hurt so much! –And that light...that light. It burned.

When a stroke of blurry understanding grasped him with ominous fingers, instinct overtook his lacking thought. Like a bunny caught in the sights of a predator, he bolted, abruptly lashing out in an impetuous, blind attempt to flee and rid himself of the fatal nuisance on his arm. With a swift, though none to graceful -jerk- he momentarily brought him self to his feet. Yet, in his senseless daze the standing motion lasted only a second, and within the next he had slipped, returning once again to the ground below landing on a most painful angle of his arm. At this new development his body returned to whimpering.

As his only escape failed, he was left no choice but to succumb to whatever evils lay in the agile creature behind him. In one final act of self-preservation, he brought his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms protectively around them, casting away the non-thoughts that did not flow through his deteriorated mind. And through all this turmoil, the hand that grasped him so tightly did not relent for an instant on his shoulder; it remained ever vigilant, giving all it could in the form of comfort.

Omi’s mind was so fogged and thick with confusion that he could not make out anything that was happening in the slightest. Booming murmurs in lost languages only brought on more pain. So with no escape he pulled his body more tightly than ever into the fetal position, remaining there unmoving in a patient wait for whatever trials this torturous light hand had left to throw upon him.

But nothing came hurtling.

All that was left for him to do was allow the open air to run soothingly over his damp skin and shiver as lapping breaths forced their way out of his inflamed esophagus. It was there, awaiting whatever destiny lay before him; that his mind returned like the air to his lungs, that he blinked his eyes open, not only in adjustment of the light but also blinked his conscience into reality. With each new faceless item he took in, his erratically deep breathing slowed, all the while he continued his unaware gaze to the lonely gray floor beneath him.

It took him a long moment of silent concentration to reacquaint his eyes and mind to the light, and even longer still to the world that he had been so crudely thrown. But as his time in prolonged insanity passed, his tense body slumped, and finally he was lucid enough to accept that which was around him. His head still ached, but he was now able and willing to bring his glazed sights to look up. When he first lifted his head, the world was sextuplicating itself. Reveling at the extraordinarily complicated lines and colors, he could feel more than see the hope of the hand that still rested on his shoulder. It seemed to understand more than him, that he was rousing into a more intelligible state. At a quick try to understanding he snapped his head up and attempted to fix his sights on the silhouetted figure before him, but at the fast-paced motion he was left in a world that swirled in bright colors, riding around in a stirring abyss...much like a spoon through some unnamable liquid stirring...and stirring...and stirring...the contents of the bowl. The concept alone brought the pain in his head to a more devastating height, and with the ringing in his ears; he could have sworn that he had begun screaming again. When the stirring didn't seem to slow itself, a quaint queasiness began to form in the pit of his stomach...rising in his bowels.

The next moment an uncomfortable gagging reflex began in his throat. He felt worry mount in the hand. Believing that closing his eyes would lessen the rainbow of colors in his sight, thus ending the spinning effect that was brought with it, Omi squeezed his eyes shut. The spinning did not stop and neither did the gagging. It was safe to say that with his eyes shut, he felt like a rag doll being thrown of a cliff...closing it's inanimate eyes as it continued to spin down–down–down unto the black pit below...

He couldn't hold it in anymore.

The gagging had continued down his throat and into his stomach was a most unpleasing sensation of sickness had begun to overtake him. He had not drunk or eaten anything in the past two days and thus his stomach was empty except for–

Omi felt whatever was left in his stomach come up. His throat that had been burned raw from his banshee’s shriek now had layer after layer of liquid bile melting painfully over his wounds. His eyes began to sting from the unbearable hurt the dry heaving caused in his throat. Another hand suddenly found itself about his waist, holding him steady as he emptied his stomach of its contents. His head was pounding, his throat was burning, and his body was heaving...

Time ticked by slowly, and eventually the gagging subsided leaving him breathless and beaten. His throat hurt worse than ever as the air alone made it throb. Unwittingly he registered a lone tear streak down his face, his eyes wet for the pain that pumped through him. Breathing in painful breath after painful breath he waited until the sensations receded to their minimal. He opened his eyes again. This time it was not spinning but there were still...one...two...three... two worlds to many. Waiting patiently he watched as the reverberating universes slowly decreased in number, increasing just as slowly in clarity. It took a while but finally there was no longer an odd amount of worlds, they had all fused into one: a single world.

The arm that had snaked itself around his waist pulled him back slowly. Omi could see the world moving as he was slid backwards, but again his mind did not decode the meaning. A second later, two seconds later his body was turned around and the comforting weight and heat the hand had on his waist was gone; the one on his shoulder never left. Staring unblinkingly, Omi’s gaze met concerned emerald orbs. They appeared out of nowhere, and looked squarely at him. Still, his mind couldn’t piece together what this meant. The world was a puzzle, but no pieces matched. These eyes were so familiar to him; he could have recognized them out of a crowd of the same color. To him, it almost wasn’t a surprise to look up and find them there, meeting his gaze equally. It was strange though...when he looked at these eyes they almost seemed to belong to a different person. Etched into their deepening shades he found the uncharacteristic emotions of worry and helplessness...emotions that had rarely plagued them before. It gave a different meaning to them, and left him feeling uncertainly as he was nearly inclined to doubt their owner.

Suddenly his mind moved on a different track and things began to come together. Staring at those shimmering emeralds he began to recognize the body before and light around him. Within another moment, his mind was racing and he wanted to know more. He wanted to confirm his unanswered questions. His eyes began to lose their glaze, becoming astute and attentive. Looking sharply about unfazed by the dizzying effect that it caused, his greedy gaze welcomed the stone training room, and the spiked walls that had retracted...and for some unrecognizable reason lie in defeated shambles around him.

His head, still pounding was now full of understanding as he returned to the pained creamy face that was draped in a short mop of chestnut-brown hair, in his thankfulness Omi found his lost voice, “Raimundo...I am so very...very glad to see you,” his voice, just above a whisper seemed ragged and tired, but the fact that a response had been given to the unspoken question at all made some of the worry ebb away from those round scrutinizing eyes that looked intently to the other.

“I’m glad,” the slender boy spoke softly in knowing, his body slipping into a more comfortable form as he no longer had to keep it clenched in nimble waiting. Once his words of worry had been released, the slender teen let out a heavy breath, one that he hadn’t realized he’d been holding due to his utmost concentration on the figure before him. In a movement to cool the adrenaline that ran rampant through his blood he took a shaky hand and ran it through his dark locks. It remained seemingly unnoticed to him that his other hand still clung tightly to the monk that was now moving to a more defined sitting position.

Raimundo closed his eyes for the briefest of seconds, to relish in his relief before opening them again. Bringing his free hand to Omi’s unoccupied shoulder he used both to give the smaller of the two a fleeting squeeze. The action seemed to elicit a feeling of comfort in knowing the younger was still whole before him. His eyes fixed harshly on black, determination returning and allowing Omi to recognize the gaze without a doubt. “You alright?” the question was a form of demand.

Bringing his hand to his face, Omi rubbed at his eyes as one would after waking from a deep sleep, they were still damp with wetness and left ghosted trails of tired tears. “I...think so,” he answered truthfully, if a bit jadedly. Comfortable in the statue silence, they remained in that position as Omi continued to sort through his disheveled thoughts. His mind was still moving slowly; it bothered him greatly that he was not up to par with his usual standards. He did not like being weak and he did not like burdening others with sorting through his mess.

Omi’s thoughts returned to him in gory clumps, but soon things were righting themselves. Realization finally hit him fully; he staggered to his feet pushing Raimundo to the side almost knocking him over in surprise. There was still one question that remained unanswered, ignoring the eyes stinging into his back he snapped his head in every direction, stopping immediately upon the moment he locked onto an elderly person that seemed to have grayed with age. “Master Fung!” he said ignoring every pained muscle in his body that cried out from strain as he quickly ran over to the man that had been watching the little display silently. “Di-did I make it through the time?” Again, his mind returned to important matters. He had to go down to busyness and get to the pinnacle. Omi almost frowned as he noted the anxiousness that took hold of his voice. Silently he worried his bottom lip, impatient in waiting for a response.

His master looked on with condemning eyes, Omi flinched inwardly for his bad judgment. Several months ago his training required a display of emotionlessness. To this day he wavered in the area and was constantly scolded to keep composure over emotions that could be used against him. In the presence of any elder he was always on trial, he was told the elders were always assumed into the position of the enemy. Though it didn't make sense to him, he did his best to upkeep his expectations and only showed emotions to his companions. In the company of his teammates, his friends were the only place he could display such things. Even then it was only because they didn't turn each other in for doing so. Blue hued eyes looked out sourly on a smiling face. It seemed as though he was off the clasp this time. He would not be in trouble for his error, but the elder noted it. The gesture of kindness was most likely from his condition upon discovery. It wasn't apparent if the gesture was out of worry or understanding for the slip-up, but the gesture was taken into account and appreciated greatly.

The expression in Master Fung's eyes was blocked out as the man closed them in the form of a brighter smile. The smile brought many lines to the face giving it sinister turns and twists in the presence of the dulled light of the room. Omi was grateful for the friendly smile. The elderly master continued in his letting off an air of earthly indifference, he spoke with wisdom and caring age, but it was ever apparent to Omi who had spent time with the Old Master that his voice was not yet completely defined with unquestionable knowledge, "Yes, young Omi. You did far better than was expected from you..." he said in kind and nodded in his approval.

The words the elder spoke were all that mattered, and because of this Omi began to praise him self excessively on the inside. It was much too bad that he couldn't do it externally as well, but it wasn't as though he had a choice as Master Fung was still in the room and he had already made that mistake once. Though he was positive that if Master Fung hadn't been in the room, he would have proceeded to do a victory dance. But alas, as no such luck had passed him by, the elder remained standing stiffly before him. Slowly calculating his response Omi bowed deeply to the man before him, masking his uncontrollable smile that split across his mouth reaching each corner of his face. There was no need for the man to see his smile. Hiding it into his bow he let the shadows consume him. This time was meant to formulate a probable response but as no words of reply came to mind, Omi withdrew his expression as he stood back up and cursed his slow moving mind. It seemed he had yet to pick up pace.

Master Fung seemingly sensed that the bigheaded monk was without comment and turned his focus to the teen behind Omi, who followed his gaze impulsively. “Raimundo.” Raimundo was stunned into standing as all attention was placed on him. “If you would, take Omi to the infirmary to get his health checked out. I fear his condition may not be as well as it should. While you are at that, it would save me a lot of trouble if you were to inform Omi how he did in his confinement,” his tone was strictly busyness.

Nodding curtly, “Yes Master Fung,” instinctively poured out of Rai's lips like a rhyme that had been spoken to a point that it had lost all amusement and had grown dabbed with dullness. Omi noted that it wasn't as though Rai was purposefully sounding rude, that was simply Raimundo and things that sounded remotely similar to chores bored him to tears. Even so, it was plain that he wasn't at least attempting to hide his lack of interest and for that Omi felt inclined to roll his small black eyes in annoyance. He was tempted to even jibe, "lazy carcass" but with-held it and all urges that followed as he too would have be slipped into a similar category having been too lazy to take the conscious thought of keeping his mouth shut with the presence of a deemed 'enemy' in the room.

The old man's pale face illuminated strangely in the light, the lines and creases in it gave the demand of his years and his strong voice brought all attention to him leaving no room for argument. Omi translated the silent demand as having noticed Raimundo's tone. "Very well. With that out of the way I can go see if Clay has helped Kimiko to her feet." Pausing the man calmly lamented over the pondering, "I must also tend to other matters...as well," Master Fung nodded sternly, but his eyes smiled from face to face. "I will check in on you later today." Without another word, but a simple bow of his upper body, to which Omi responded with one of his own, the older man was gone leaving the two children in his wake.

The moment Omi knew his master was out of earshot his composure changed. With his thoughts having been restored and his personality with it, he was left excited and now that he was technically alone, his emotions had free reign. The next second Omi's head had increased in size and he was standing at Raimundo's side, tugging boldly at the taller identical sleeve. "Did you hear that Raimundo?" he taunted in mirth. Delicate hands were tightly interwoven in the rim of black cloth that bordered the edge of the red. There was another playful tug at his sleeve. "I did it! Ha! I knew I could make it for forty-eight hours!" Omi smiled and tugged incessantly on the soft cloth that was the other's shirt. A large smile had split across his face, each time he tugged, each time it grew. The smile alone said a mouthful. It was apparent that what he was getting to, was not, 'look at me, I'm so great' but more accurately, 'look at me, I bet I'm so much better than you.'

Even with this large little display of big-headedness Raimundo couldn't find it in him to be annoyed. He was much too relieved to take the time to find that emotion and bring it out. So instead, he just let a small smile play at his lips as he watched the other try and show off.

Omi tugged and smiled and innocently teased, excitement welling in his expectant eyes he asked, "How did you do? Did you make it too?" With this set of new queries he didn't seem to acknowledge all the rips in the other's clothes...nor did he note the red that stained the other's skin in pricks and bandages, not even as he pulled at the blood covered sleeve.

Raimundo lifted a brow in question, he couldn't help a light cocky smirk that he brought to his lips, confidently he countered, "What do you think?" he paused for effect looking casually at his nails before rubbing them on his shirt and shooting Omi a side glance for proper poise. "I aced it, like usual. I bet I could have beaten your time if they allowed us to stay in those death traps for more than the allotted forty-eight hours."

Trying to keep up a façade of wellness, Omi ignored the buckling and trembling in his legs as his face slowly lost its color. Eyeing Raimundo challengingly, he paid no heed the pain and protest in his mind as he continued the conversation, "Ah, but it would be I to beat your time if it were allowed!" He kept his voice as full of emotion as he could and didn't let his smile waver, even though he may have pushed the aching from his thoughts, he wasn't fooling anyone. It seemed as though his companion would not forget his delusional state from mere minuets before.

"Hey, Omi...are you alright? You look a little paler that usual," Raimundo held out a hand to grab the other, as though he would break if he was permitted to stay on his feet a second longer.

Omi, reading what the gesture was hinting at made a step out of the burnet's reach before shaking his head vigorously, "No, no, my friend." His knees shook and his head pounded. It seemed that even if he tried to forget his condition, his body would do well to remind him. "I am very much alright." Omi attempted a smile for effect.

Raimundo realized his hand was offending a second too late and quickly withdrew it to cover up his foul in a snort at Omi's failed attempt to hide his emotions. Shaking his head and giving Omi a light pat on the head he pressured, "Lets face it. You look like shit. We better get you fixed up before Master Fung has my head on his platter."

Frowning deeply the younger one didn't answer, he didn't feel up to it. Through all of his acting it was apparent that he really did need to get to the infirmary and find out what was going on. This dizziness and the vomiting had to be cleared up as much as he hated to admit it. That and he didn't see what was so appetizing about having Raimundo's head on a plate. Omi mused that a decapitated Raimundo...would make him more sick than anything else. Deciding to change the subject rather than commenting on Raimundo's blunt and slightly disturbed statement Omi asked off-handedly, "So when did you finish?"

The two were exiting the training room together when Raimundo got to answer, "A while ago. Remember I started a good forty-five minutes before you." Omi's head was spinning and he was having trouble concentrating on walking, he looked to the other in what he thought was silent affirmation that he did indeed remember seeing the other off, but Rai seemed to take this as confusion or skeptically. Raimundo frowned and bonked Omi on the head causing it to spin, "You saw me off..." his frown deepened, "You do remember don't you? Or did your time in that tin box mess with your head?"

Omi nursed his aching head with a small-gloved hand, hoping that it would ease the pounding. Shooting the other a fixed glare he disagreed while keeping up his act, "I did not get my head in a mess by a box. The head that is on my body is a very good head!"

The emerald eyes rolled in mock-disbelief, "It's –well the first one I don't even know how to fix, but dude, it’s: you have a good head on your shoulders. Not body. I swear! Will there ever be a day that you get one of those saying right?"

As they walked down the lantern-lit hallway, Omi tried to fight his aching mind. As a much-needed distraction he attentively watched the maze like Chinese styled designs that where etched across the base of the walls with his mind, copying the pattern and redrawing them on an inner canvass. "I resent that comment," he said following the little designs now with a mental finger.

Raimundo stopped walking and scooped Omi into a tight hug, lifting him completely off the ground and shaking him like a teddy bear. The action brought more pain onto Omi, but Raimundo didn't seem to notice, "Awww...come on Omi, you know I don't mean it!" He buried his face into Omi's shoulder, "When you mess up all those comments, the only thing I can think is, 'That's Omi in a nutshell.'" He squeezed Omi tighter before the younger one responded.

"B-but–Raimundo! Your ch-choking meeeee..." Omi ground out loudly as he attempted to escape the offender's clutches.

Rai blinked at his own actions, "Wopse!" he let Omi's disoriented form slip gracefully to the floor, stumbling slightly as he did so. "Sorry man didn't mean to knock the wind out of you."

"T-that is very much alright..." wavering back and forth on his feet Omi attempted to steady himself, "I am just a little in it from that horrible box. And what was that about a nutshell?...surely my talking doesn't effect my looks like that," holding to his large head as the pounding increased Omi regained his lost footing.

Brushing himself off the other shook his head out of habit, "You mean out of it, and oh no! You've got it all wrong. That's not what I meant," Raimundo started down the hall again shoving his hands deeply into his pockets. His strides were long and quick, and Omi had to jog just to keep up with him. "When you say that someone is in a nutshell..." Rai attempted to explain, "it means more like...that's their personality wrapped up in as few as words as possible."

Omi thought about it for a second, carefully processing the short description. When nothing came of it he brushed it off completely, if he didn't understand it now, he probably never would. "I still do not see what that has to do with saying I'm in a nutshell."

Dropping the matter the taller just clicked his tongue in annoyance. He changed the subject with similar thoughts to Omi's, "Anyway, wasn't that test horrible?" taking his hands out of his pockets he drew them high into the air stretching them with a horrible, 'pop' of his joints, "I don't think I want to be in another box with spikes ever again, let alone see one."

Wobbling on his feet the roundly headed boy agreed with a nod, "That was most definitely not a pleasurable position." In another attempt at distraction Omi absorbed himself deeply into the conversation. "But let us hope that we learned something from this experience so that when we are actually going on our assassinations, if we ever get caught we can last longer in such confinement."

Raimundo almost tripped when he heard his friend say that. He seriously didn't know enough about torture. Attempting to approach the matter gently he began, "Um...Omi...you are aware that that type of torture is a last resort, aren't you?" Raimundo waited a second for the comment to sink in before he continued; he had stopped looking ahead and was concentrating sourly on the littler. "After they finish with all whatever they feel like doing, if they have got the information they need and their bored of you but you're still alive they put you in one of those boxes and leave you in there until you die." Clearing his throat he finished, "If you are ever in one of those boxes, the only reason that you wouldn't throw yourself against those spikes in the first place is if you know someone is coming for you...if not...well...I think it would be best to get it over with...it's better than dieing of starvation or dehydration." If it were at all possible Omi's sickly skin tone dropped three shades lighter. Opening his mouth to say something on that subject, he was interrupted by another topic change. "Oh, look. We're here..." Raimundo said oddly pleasant as he gestured limply to the door-less room that ended the hallway.

Omi was grateful that the walk to the room wasn't a far one; if it had been only a couple of more minuets he might've collapsed. He couldn't say that he wasn't pleased to the conversations end either...it wasn't an easy matter to discuss.

As far as the room went it was nothing special, like most rooms in the temple it had a foundation that was of the bedrock that made up the entire cave it was built in. This room, unlike many others that's walls were completely stone, actually appeared to be a room. It had a distinctive ceiling and walls, smooth and painted like a room should be. Though the chamber had intricate designs covering the base and top of the wall, it was still very plain and simple. A single wall-scroll on the far side of the room just above an oak desk and chair was all there was on the walls. Though the picture –if it could be called that– itself was about as interesting as the room, it was a bare Chinese styled catfish done in long curling strokes, with matching styled water, dull colors, and a square black calligraphy signature in the corner. And if the other details of the room weren’t insipid enough there weren’t even windows to add whatever color that natural light could gather from the lifeless darkness that veiled it. Though no room in the entire place contained such a superfluous thing. Throughout the rest of the room there was only a single mat and pillow. At one time both had probably been white, but like everything here, it was old and had dulled with time, now it was a sickly yellow color and more than likely reeked of mildew.

Once inside the room, the two didn't bother with looks or side-glances, they had seen it a million times before. Instead they took to turning their attention to an elderly monk –like most people in this place the word 'old' and 'wrinkles' normally fell somewhere into their description– with a head oddly comparable to a squash as he greeted them with a respectful bow. "I see you returned with the young Water Dragon...very well then, you may sit at my desk as I work. This shouldn't take very long, he looks far better than you did."

Raimundo's cheeks flared red as he rushed over to the chair and sat down, intent on staring at the wall until the embarrassed color drained out of his cheeks, but no one took any notice to the teen in his moment of conflict.

"So then, Omi...if you will..." the gourd headed man gestured with one arm to the yellowed mat. Without needing him to elaborate Omi obediently obliged to the request and sat swiftly on the mat looking expectantly to the elder who sat slowly on the pillow beside him. "Now tell me...how do you feel?"

Omi looked at him respectfully and didn't hesitate to go into details. "I–" he began, he couldn't think on how to form that particular sentence so instead concluded with a painfully simple, "not well. Just before they unlocked the chamber I was having a pounding headache...and very strange thoughts...it was as though I wanted to through myself against the spiked walls, which is most defiantly something I would not like to do. Right now, my body aches...I feel week and I have a very painful head." To support what he said, the Water Dragon proceeded to moan and hold his head. His vision was acting up again and had been since a little before their arrival to the room. At this time Raimundo had shifted his gaze to the yellow skinned boy, gaze unreadable.

The elder monk proceeded to pet his chin in thought, "Ah...yes...and while you were in the box, you wouldn't happen to have gotten poked by one of the points...if not just slightly."

"Well. I–" Omi stopped and seemed to have a second though. "It never broke my skin," he defended sternly.

"–But it did touch your skin, did it?" The squash head pressed on.

Omi shifted his eyes to the wall. "Yes," dejectedly.

The elderly man nodded in approval and made several mental notes. Looking the young assassin over he thought silently as time drug on. With his practiced patience of two days without moving, Omi sat still waiting for the next thought to come out of the man's mouth. Suddenly the gray eyes looked him slowly over. Turning his thoughts over slothfully like he was thinking over the details of a pebble. He didn't move as his eyes wandered either, giving Omi the strange sense that the man's gaping did not want to be detected. Brushing this feeling under the title 'paranoia' he grew annoyed by the increasing silence. He took to counting his breaths. It seemed as though he was getting used to finding distractions for himself, as no one seemed to want to get things over with. Too bad...he actually wanted to get out of here in less than an hour. At this rate...it might take two.

"Is that all?"

The sound came so suddenly Omi almost jumped. It took him a bit to reorganize his thoughts but when everything was in order his mouth moved on its own accord. "No, I suppose it is not. As soon as the box was opened my mind flop-flipped and I could not understand anything that was going on around me. The light hurt my head, sound hurt my head, thinking hurt my head...actually everything hurt my head. Well, maybe not breathing...but it might have...I am most definitely not certain as I was so very disoriented. When I tried to get up my vision was acting in a most peculiar way, and then after that, well it wasn't very pleasant...but I vomited." Omi blushed in embarrassment at his own actions, but then when he thought about it...it was possible that he might not have. It could have been a strange hallucination from his unstable state. Now doubting him self completely he added, "I think." He didn't realize that he had been ranting as he now fiddled nervously with his fingers. He didn't like not knowing the answers.

The monk smiled almost pleasantly and Omi frowned as he realized the man saw his nervousness and was trying to help calm him down with smiling. He really needed to work on regulating what emotions people saw; nervousness was a weakness. Strange, the smile was not very pleasant and left him more nervous in the end concerned for the man's intentions. Most likely this was due to what his training had taught him, everyone has alternative motives, but not being able to accept a kind smile seemed to go against his nature and left him feeling a tad bit nauseous. "This is understandable," the old man's raspy voice sent shivers down Omi's spine. "What you felt when you were in the chamber is connected to what you felt outside of it. The spikes were drugged, all of what you experienced were side effects. Your vomiting was probably the symptoms of a simple migraine. Migraines are irritated when in contact with bright lights, loud sounds, large sums of people...usually they cause peevish mood swings, constant headaches, and in some cases vomiting. Your migraine could have also been caused by the fact you have yet to eat or drink in two days time. My assumption is that the light was just too much because you were in such a dark space." Omi's head was pounding again and he tried to absorb all of the content spoken but only managed so much before he gave up on it. All he got was that he vomited because he had a headache...that was nice. Omi smiled at his use of sarcasm. Who said that he would never understand the meaning of such things?

Too engrossed in the process of self-praise Omi didn't notice the man as he returned to his feet to go over to the desk that Raimundo sat. He didn't even hear him as he rustled about grabbing this and that. It wasn't until the monk had all he needed from the desk and had returned to his sitting position on the pillow next to Omi that he notice the man had gone in the first place.

With a needle in hand, the elderly monk pressed its tip into a bottle that contained an unnamed pink liquid, withdrew the liquid into the needle, and removed it from the bottle when he was satisfied. Turning it so that the tip was facing up he shook it lightly, flicked it, and then squirted it so that there were no air bubbles in it. Setting the needle down onto a cloth he had acquired from the table, he took a cotton ball and poured something onto it. What, Omi did not know because he wasn't paying attention. He focused his concentration on a spot on the wall uninterested until the elder cleared his throat to gain his attention. "Please pull up you sleeve," the man said in kind as Omi obeyed and now focused on what the man was doing even though it didn't peek his interest in the least...as the man cleared a spot in his elbow pit with the cotton ball, took up the needle into his old shaky hand, sunk it into Omi's arm...he watched almost bored by the action. Once the liquid was injected he removed the needle and placed it to the side. Picking up another clean cotton ball he turned his attention to Omi. "This is very important, where did the spikes touch you? It wont hurt if you tell me it was in places it wasn't, but it will hurt if you don't tell me where it really was."

Omi automatically gestured to his head and leg, "Here and here..." he said simply as he proceeded to roll up his pants leg.

"Good. This will hurt a little but it's all for the greater good." With that he took the cotton balls, dipping them into unpleasant green goo he proceeded to clean both areas that were said to have touched the spikes. Omi completely ignoring the stabbing pain that the goo left behind, watching now with fascination as a new wonder hit him. The way the old hands moved surely and elegantly across his skin proved a most interesting thought. Even though all their years...they shook a little, but still they moved with such skill. How could anything so old move so well?

After another few minutes of pointless banter, pointless checking up, and other such business Omi was relieved when he was finally able to leave. He never did like this kind of stuff...the plain formality of it all.

Sighing heavily as they left the room Raimundo and Omi shook their heads to each other. "What a waste of time..." Omi huffed.

"Glad that's done with," Rai said after stretching a little ways down the hall. His stomach growled hungrily. "Hey Omi," he elbowed the younger boy a vicious smile wide on his face. "I'm starving. Wanna go raid the kitchen?"

Omi rubbed his head, glad that the pain seemed to be minimizing. An answer didn't waste any time coming from his lips, "I am famished. Food sounds good, but I think we might need to be most careful...Master Fung does not like it when the supplies in the kitchen vanish without a trace on their own accord."

"Glad you see it my way. I'm sure that we, and every one else in this joint, wont see how the food got up and left." Rai's smile widened, "Last one to the kitchen has to make something delicious for the other!" he taunted before he dashed away with a head start.

"But you don't cook well!" Omi whined impatiently behind him, gaining on the other with eager ease.

Scene Two of Five

The distance to the kitchen was a great one from the infirmary. One that required quite a bit of knowledge of the structure of the temple as most passageways were endless hallways that lead to nothing but empty walls deep into the mountain cavern. Some halls you would have to cross twice to get places, and it didn’t help that every walk seemed identical to the last, with the same amount of doors, with similar spaces between them. Though an attribute when intruders were involved, for the occupants it proved a bit of a problem wandering for hours trying to get places. The only way you could really know where you were was by counting the intersections and doors you passed, but even so, one faulty turn could lead you somewhere you weren’t supposed to be. Most people had only one route to get somewhere, and would never bother taking another way, out of fear of being truly lost. Raimundo and Omi were no exception to the rule. In some sections on their way to the kitchen, they actually separated momentarily so as not to lose their normal route. It is to say that when they had finally made it across, their minds were racing and they were sweating up a storm, completely dead beat.

As far as winners went, it was no big surprise, really. The one who had the most efficient route, always won. And as Omi had lived in the protection of the building nearly his entire life, actually taking the time to record the distance and time from each passageway –at one time he had even taken to writing a map, but disposed of it after further thought of the enemy getting a hold of it– had won the race by default. But as the two were opening the door, Rai didn’t seem too upset about the loss, as Omi would have to eat whatever he made him.

The contrast from the kitchen and hall was a big one. The halls were designed to be simple and insanely intimidating at the same time. By the objective, this was meant to make the intruder feel they were going in circles and eventually have the thought in their mind that they would never escape the hallway, eventually causing them to do something drastic and barge into a room that most likely had people in it. With this concept in mind, a sense of claustrophobia had to be put into effect, and making the hallways narrower usually had that consequence. Helping an intruder feel trapped in a small space would up their nerves and make it harder to hide on short notice. But convincing the person that it was the same hall was a must, and to say there were no minor difference in the hallways was a lie in itself, so it was important to make the lights just bright enough to barely see your way through. This would make it so that the differences were unnoticed.

But as the kitchen wasn’t a place to confuse the enemy, small spaces and dim lights weren’t needed.

The room itself was expansive and housed dozens of cupboards and drawers. Compartments that were filled with a story of different utensils and food related items blended into the closed doors and flickering shadows cast by the open lanterns. Easily, there was a year’s supply of food within the confines of all the little nooks and crannies that made up the room’s foundation. Unfortunately, it was flawed by its unalterable size because within its vast reaches, it was hard to decorate with small intricate details like the other, more intimate chambers. Due to its size there was no use for it to have even a single wall-scroll or mural on its pale, lonely walls. It was just a colorless room that held food, means to cook it, and places to eat it. That was all.

As the duo looked in with hungry eyes, they were dumbfounded to see that they had been beaten to the punch line, so to speak.

A lean girl in red robes accompanied by another. Her long, dark hair was tied and braided with beaded string, making the colored beads appear that much more vibrant. Her narrow face was complemented by the way her bangs hooked around her cheeks. When she saw who had arrived, her bright blue eyes turned to her companion, a rather bulky blond boy in matching attire, with a very oddly matched cowboy hat perched upon his pale head.

The two smiled at their counter parted elements, meeting their starving gaze. The table was already set with quite an assortment of foods arranged before them.

"Hey!" Raimundo's emerald eyes flashed with malice as his voice came out oddly with a gripe. "How did you guys get here so fast?"

Parallel to Raimundo's glower, Omi's face glimmered in unending glee, "Oh! My friends!" he sparkled before running over to the food-covered table.

"Hey there little fella', what took y'all so long to get down ‘ere?" The blond nodded his head and patted a pillow next to him, a gesture for Omi to take his seat.

Raimundo forgotten, fumed at being beaten to eating, but he quickly joined the short table. Sitting next to the lean girl, he began inhaling anything and everything he could get his hands on.

Following suit, Omi went to his offered seat. It was apparent that he was happier to see the food than his friends as he quickly sat down and found his hand reaching out for more before they had even gotten their firsts. "I had to get checked for wounds,” Omi answered lightly, “Something that proved to be a most time-consuming feat. Anyway Clay, how did your time in the torturing box go?" Omi smiled up at his tall friend as he began to pick about his covered plate for what to eat first.

"I 'reckon I did alrigh’,” Clay sighed as he began to pick discriminately at his plate and finally setting his fork down in defiance, “I didn't last the entire time though. That box was smaller then the tip of a cactus's needle. I swear a chick would a' had more room in an egg then in that there box." The blond shook his head using the tip of his thumb to flick his cowboy hat a little higher so he could see better.

Deciding to fill more than his hunger, Rai slurred through a mouthful of potatoes and something green, "How'd 'ou do 'imiko?"

The girl crinkled up her face as she was attacked by half eaten food in unfriendly chunks, but didn't comment on his eating habits, "I did fine. Better than you it seems. Looks like you went rolling around in–"

"–A needle stack searchin' for a piece of hay...woo wee...Rai! What happened to you?" Clay interrupted looking on with wide blue eyes.

Raimundo snorted at this but continued to shove his face; man, after two foodless days...food did wonders. "No' far from 't actual', those 'upid blades 'ad poison on the 'ip of 'em, if you get 't on your skin it 'inks 'rough and ge's into your blood stream. An’way, I brought my wa'ch with me an’ when I 'ad like five minutes lef’ I started gettin’ restless and…" food squirted out of his mouth so he stopped talking and swallowed. "Sorry about that, I'm starving. Anyway I get poked by one of those stupid tips and the next thing I know I'm under the influence of that dumb drug and purposefully ramming myself into those points. I swear I never want to be in a box like that again." Raimundo started to eat again with his ravenous mouth.

Omi frowned and set down his now empty plate, "That's not what you told me Raimundo."

Raimundo shrugged and tried to speak through a full mouth again, "Mufufmmm... awahaaa...goer-af!" This time no one made heads or tails of it. Omi’s eyes lingered on Rai’s for an answer, but when the other continued to go about eating instead of elaborating, reluctantly he accepted the inaudible answer. He ignored the pestering irritation that crawled under his skin knowing that his friend had openly lied to him.

The rest of the meal went by in near silence, it seemed as though everyone wanted to catch up on the lost meals, all except Clay who always ate like that. It wasn't another ten minuets before every serving plate was empty and every occupant at the table had finished their third or fourth helping.

"Ahhh...if feels so good to eat again.... I think I will never go another two hours without eating again," Raimundo smiled contently as he leaned back merrily flopping against the floor, legs still folded neatly on the pillow.

"Yes, I am surely delighted to have food once again in my once empty stomach... I am glad it will be the last time I have to go through that again." Omi smiled emptily and sipped his lemon grass green tea.

"Hey Rai, why didn't you go ter get changed or eat after you finished that training session?" Clay said eyeing the gay boy, wallowing in his own merriment.

Raimundo didn't bat an eyelid at the question; nothing would disturb this moment of being full of food for him, nothing! He drawled lazily with the answer, "I dunno...it took a good thirty minutes to get bandaged up...they jammed like forty needles into me –I'm lucky I'm not afraid of needles– by the time they fixed me up I knew that Omi was going to be out of his solitaire confinement soon...I wasn't about to let him get out of there like I did. I wanted to see if he was still in one piece, I guess you can call it paranoia after what I went through...or–"

"Just leave it at worry Rai," Kimiko interjected with a shaking of her head. "Seriously, what's with guys? What's wrong with saying you’re worried?"

Raimundo snorted from his place on the floor but otherwise didn't stir, "Whatever, that's what I was just about to say."

Omi smiled big headedly at this development, it was good knowing that someone cared about him. Really, these three and Master Fung were all he had; it made him glad to know they cared so much. "Ah, yes...it is a most generous thing you did. I was in very poor condition when you came upon me."

"Oh?" Raimundo sat up and looked across the table to Omi, he was going to milk this praising for all it was worth.

Glaring in knowing, Omi nodded his head, he hadn't wanted to go into description about this. Sighing in exasperation he swallowed his complaints and continued, "Most definitely. I think I only touched a spike once, but right when you opened it...I was going to stab my hand through one. It was most unpleasant. I probably would not have been able to take hold of my disoriented self, had I not looked up and met a friendly face."

Rai clicked his tongue, "Omi...can't you get a saying right when you’re flattering someone? I mean come on...it makes it sound funny when you say it like that and it ruins the entire thing. It's ‘get a hold of yourself.’ –On such an easy one too." Shooting Omi an appreciative smile he stopped short. Backtracking he covered his hand over his eyes and recovered, "Oops! I almost forgot! Master Fung wanted me to tell you something."

Omi lifted his delicate brow in question. "And what would be so important you would forget to tell me?" he asked lightly.

"Just that you did well in you confinement to a box, –very well actually. He said you didn't even twitch until you had seven minutes left; he seemed pretty impressed when he was telling it to me. But also that you need to learn when to shut up. Not in so many words of course..." Raimundo slicked his hair back with one hand, and crinkled his brow, then continued in an imitation of Master Fung, "Blah blah blah...Omi has much talent in these things, but he really does need to learn the meaning of torture, under most circumstances there is reason behind the acts. There should be no reason to speak of things that they want to know or ways to better get into your head. Omi is too trusting in this area, he's been telling his life story in there–" snorting a laugh Raimundo's composure fell back into his own. The others joined him at this, only greeting Omi as he looked on in confusion.

“I do not understand...I was trying to keep my concentration off of things like my surroundings. My meditation was beginning to crack...what is wrong with telling my life story?” Omi cocked his head to the side, his expression the perfect example of ignorant innocence.

Between laughs Clay answered his question, “Lit’l partner, everyone knows the point of torture is to get you to talk. What were you tryin’ to do, bore them to death?”

Raimundo repeatedly slammed a fist into the table, pounding it as though it would stop his blistering laughter. Gasping for air he choked between laughs, “Yeah Omi... Is that what you plan to do when you're up against Chase Young?" Rai slapped his hands to his cheeks to minimize the pain of smiling. "He decides to torture you because he found out what you are, and what you do to keep yourself sane is tell your life story and give him all the answers to the questions he wants to know...and some he doesn't?" In some twisted way, that concept could be funny.

Omi just looked on with a shake of his head, he still did not understand.

That comment from Rai seemed to flare a thought within Kimiko's mind as she sobered up instantly. "Omi, is it true that you’re going soon?" she blurted out of what seemed like nowhere.

Everyone stopped laughing at that, and Omi faltered on his cup of tea, setting it down suddenly he looked sternly at the girl. Now everyone’s attention was directed unwaveringly at him. "I..." Omi paused, he liked it better when they were laughing and making fun of him; at least then the air around him was light and steady. Now it seemed as though the air itself had died and could not sustain him with his necessity, "Master Fung told me I still have several months until I go on my mission. I do not know if you would consider this short or not."

An uncomfortable silence shifted over the room like a veil of darkness on their light hearts.

"Er...Omi...I don't know if Master Fung told you something different, or if you misunderstood what he was telling you..." Raimundo finally began, sick of the quiet boring into him. "But he told us one month. You have four weeks left of training until he is sending you into Chase Young's lair. He already sent in the paperwork. You’re going to be one of his...beck and call servants. A personal servant–whatever..."

Omi opened his mouth to say something, frowned and stopped. He closed his mouth then tried again. "When are you guys going to be sent off?" he finally asked uncertainly, it was obvious he hadn't asked the question that he intended.

"Well, I'm leaving a couple weeks after you," Kimiko said looking intently at the younger dragon. "I'm going to be in your neighborhood too. Wuya is my target...but I still won’t be leaving for another nine weeks."

"I'm leaving in six months for some quick underling jobs," Clay looked down at his empty plate. "That is if you two succeed...if not...I'm already in line to be your replacements." Clay's voice was hollow and void of emotion, like his eyes that his hair always shadowed. "That's why I'll be leaving so much later. To give time for your failure."

Raimundo shifted, seemingly the most uncomfortable of them all, "I'm not leaving unless Omi fails...I might be next in line right next to Clay for your position...as of now...I'm in the infiltration department. I already go on some missions, but my main job will be getting information to and from the two of you. If both of you fail, I'll be the new Omi, and Clay will be the new Kimiko. Depending on how well I do at my job, if Omi..." his voice trembled as the whole concept caught up to him, "If Omi dies first, I'm doing well, and Kimiko doesn't die...Clay will be after Chase Young and I'll be doing the entire information thing for Clay and Kimiko...but because Clay never went through some of the extensive training for killing Chase Young specifically...so...I asked...and…his chances of beating him in your place is in the ten percent range. Omi, you’re about sixty...if you kill him the way that you’re supposed to...if you go head to head...you’re thirty percent...and Kimiko...they don't even have an estimate for you because Wuya has been so quiet about her strength for the past one hundred years...but if she hadn't improved...you might be forty...five head to head."

Everyone went quiet in thought; the only sound was footsteps echoing from somewhere far down the hall in one of the open stony corridors.

"Where..." Clay began slowly thinking carefully before lifting his gaze to Raimundo, "did you get that information?" He finished with his throat dry and his glove masked hands clutching tightly to his uniform black pants.

"I get information from point A to point B, why do you think Master Fung told me to tell Omi how he did in the box-thing? I'm not supposed to tell you that...but you have a right to know your chances. If one of you quit now...it would give you a way out before you get in over your head. Once you leave there is no getting out. If you get in too deep during the mission with no escape and you know something important...the order is death. Suicide is suggested...or people like me will be sent out." Raimundo looked to the ground and let the information sink into the minds of his friends. "I can't tell you any more than that."

Omi felt like he was in a dream, how horrible. To think he had been training his entire life to have a sixty percent chance of killing his target. Unconsciously he cleared his throat, "I'm not giving up. If I give up now I won't only be compromising this mission, but there will be people below me that will have to pick up the pieces.

“What are statistics anyway? They know nothing about real battle. That is if both parties perform to the full of their potential. What about making mistakes? What about the unknown variables? None of those are counted in statistics; it is just a guess that a bunch of old men get together and decide. I have been training for this my entire life. I'm not going to give up because I can." His voice sounded so sure and determined, surprising everyone in the room. Omi was still in a daze on the inside though; this mission was more than likely going to be his death, which was shocking. The words that came from him were his autopilot, his boundless confidence, and his big head, not him. Eyes sharp in determination he smiled the smile of confidence that left his comrades speechless. On the inside he sat, dazed, head down cast; he smiled the smile of a dead man.

The room was silent for a long moment as everyone took on Omi's waves of confidence like fish on land, drowning and gasping in shock of what had suddenly been pushed on them. Then finally, "I'm with Omi, I've been training all this time to give Wuya a run for her money, I'm not going to give up all my hard work for some men in an old-folks-home." Kimiko smiled and glared at an imaginary old-folks-home, it was like shining with confidence after drinking from the Holy Grail.

Clay smirked, after two people had said the saying, and decreed their decrees, there was nothing left but to follow the path and join the others, "Hey partner, what are the statistics for my job?"

Raimundo shrugged not surprised by this final outburst, but surprised at feeling rejuvenated from his smaller friend. He spoke with his silky voice, "It varies from person to person...average would probably be in the ninety percentile. I think your lowest would be sixty percent but that's not because of skill, that's from knowing and training to go against a specific opponent."

The mood lightened with the good news and adrenaline, Clay laughed, "Well then that answers yer question, I still have another six months an' I bet I can get those numbers to go up a bit in the meantime." Clay got to his feet and started gathering up the dirty plates. As soon as the move was made, everyone else joined him to their feet to gather dirtied silverware, cups, and such heading to the sink to clean up their mess.

“Hey Rai,” Kimiko teased, red lips quirking into a smile. "What do those statistics say about you in our positions?" Kimiko taunted with true interest.

Raimundo blushed, "That is a personal question, I don't feel like answering."

Omi smiled cunningly in knowing, "What's wrong Raimundo, cat in your mouth? I know why you don't want to tell us, it’s because yours is so much lower than ours isn’t it?"

The others laughed at that but Rai seethed, “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Screwing up that phrase defeats the purpose, don’t you think? And by the by it’s ‘cat got your tongue,’ not cat in your mouth. I do not want to get a hairball any time soon, thank you very much.” Everyone could see through his anger, and that only spread his or her smiles wider.

Piling their dishes beside the sink, the quartet moved to get into their positions, Raimundo and Clay washing while Omi and Kimiko dried and put everything away. Only the latter three paused a moment before getting to work. Rai on the other hand, thought it in his best interest to get to work, thinking maybe they’d give up and start working after they saw how efficient he was.

“Ah...com’ on Rai, ya know ya wanna tell us!” The cowboy pestered as he rolled up his red sleeves, stalling if just slightly.

“Yeah Rai, how bad could it be? I mean you already shared all of ours, what’s telling us a few more,” Kimiko glared in feigned anger.

"Urg! It's not that!" in his irritation the water from his side of the sink proceeded in splashing him with soapy water right in the face, pressuring him as much as the rest of the room to give up the answers that were demanded of him. "Gross...." he whined wiping the dish-juice off his face with his upper arm, "it's just–" Rai looked pleadingly at his companions and started as he saw that both Clay and Kimiko were pushing Omi towards him with the a classic puppy-dog-face, just begging for an answer. The worst thing was it was almost certainly the cutest puppy look ever. Raimundo quickly flashed his head back to the dishes. "NO! Now stop that this instant!" His complaint sounded somewhat like an angry mother when her kids kept pestering her for sweets, if only in the tone and words.

Feeling a light tug on his sleeve, Rai chanced a look down.

He jumped.

No, That was the cutest most horribly sad puppy-dog-face he'd ever seen. Even cuter and more demanding than the previous. Omi had the little pouty lips and the big eyes, but now they were watering and it looked like he was actually crying, or at least on the road toward it.

"Ack!" Raimundo couldn't look away. He set down his dish and dried his hands on a towel behind him, turning completely to Omi ignoring the light blush on his cheeks as much as he could. "No Omi, now stop with that face!"

If at all possible Omi got cuter and had more tears. There was no way he wasn't crying now. Turning on Raimundo he ran over to Kimiko and Clay wailing loudly. "Aw! Darn it Rai! Now look what you did! You made the lit’le guy cry!"

"Yeah Rai! You should be ashamed of yourself!" Kimiko chimed in.

Oh, so it was the guilt trip they were going for; now it was his fault that Omi was so fucking cute! Damn it ALLL!!! Just then Omi turned around and gave him his stupid face...and Rai gave in. –So much for his reserve.

Running over to Omi he scooped up the little one and squeezed him for all he was worth. "Fine. Fine. Fine. Fine. FINE! I'll tell you already just stop looking at me like that!" After one tight squeeze he let the Water Dragon fall and let everyone’s expectant eyes meet his own. Omi's surprisingly dry...

Crossing his arms he sputtered the answer in a mumble, "They said they couldn't tell because they trained me to know when I was a goner and when to run with my tail between my legs, that the statistics were for death matches only, and that counted for both sides." Rai averted his eyes but caught everyone’s hands over their mouths out of the corner of his eye, trying their best to keep from laughing.

It didn't work. Within a minute Rai was back to doing dishes ignoring as best he could the laughter that erupted behind him.

Scene Three of Five

With a little bit of coaxing of his friends, Raimundo managed to get everyone to help finish up the dishes. But from that point, much to the young group's exasperation, it was back to the daily routine of things. Omi was exceedingly adverse to the change back to normalcy as the foreboding nature of time still haunted him. He could feel the pit of his stomach churn with nerves as he only had four weeks of this life before he would be alone on his mission. Suddenly he really didn’t want to do much of anything today, and instead he simply wanted to go into his chambers and stare off into the nothingness of his room. But his engagements mocked him, even as they would help him get closer to what was soon to be. It seemed as though they would never be allotted time to recuperate, especially now that time was of the essence. Though to his friends’ relief, training was the first thing on the agenda.

They arrived in an average sized training ground and immediately went to busying themselves with warm-ups. For Kimiko, Raimundo, and Omi this was a relief beyond relief; they had eaten to their fill for the first time in two days, and now they got too moving around. The feel of exercising all of their sleeping muscles got them free of the cage that was their body, the cage that had kept them captive for so long. As for Clay, he was just happy to have companionship to join him.

It would have been a lie to say their moves were not flawless, because their movement alone told the tale of perfection, but even so, this perfection was not limited to knowing and memorizing moves; their moves did not just speak a tale, they sung a burst of feeling and energy, something that the children sometimes lacked from the over use and boring patterns. Playing off their counterpart's moves with the grace and wisdom of a thousand years, it was a sight to behold; to see them perform with fluent ease, the moves that had for so long been barely acceptable and mind numbing with the flow of life was indeed a sight.

It wasn’t until thirty minutes into warm-ups though, that their ears were greeted by the frivolous fickle sound of warm and proud clapping. This stopped all movement on the playing board and had everyone turning their attention to a figure that arrived, masked in shadows.

A voice rose over the sound of clapping, "Well done, young ones." Master Fung stepped into the light, an eloquent smile tasting his ancient face. "It has been a long time since you have done so well..." Omi drew his gaze over the withered figure as he was washed in light. Breathing heavily from the exertion of their laborious warm-ups, Omi raised an eyebrow at Master Fung’s somewhat disheveled appearance. Even through the flickering lights the room provided, the glossy sheen of sweat was apparent over his balding brow. His usually immaculate dress was shifted and wrinkled oddly in several places. A weary expression was very apparent through his eyes, as the smile the man harbored just didn’t reach. Omi forced the thought to the back of his mind as Clay began after a deep breath.

"Thank you Master Fung," Clay huffed with his think accent and tipped his hat respectfully.

"I thank you for your praise most greatly," Omi bowed deeply his hands clasped together formally. Upon returning to his upright position, he used the back of his hand to wipe away a streak of sweat that had begun to gather down his cheek.

Master Fung, who seemed to be in somewhat of a rush interrupted the other two before their time permitted them thanks. Waving a hand in a half-hazard dismissal to their comments he continued, "There is no need for thanks, young dragons, it is all your own work that made your moves a dance. Maybe I should lock you in boxes more often?" The question was asked with a smile but was not greeted by one. Everyone’s face fell and darkened, though Clay also had that look one gets before they vomit as he turned his face away. Their Master laughed at this response and stepped forward, hands buried deeply into his red sleeves managing to straighten out most of the uncharacteristic wrinkles in his clothes through the simple gesture. "Or, perhaps not. It is a form of torture after all..." everyone’s face brightened at that, in hope more than anything else, though pleading was in there too.

"Don't get your hopes up kids," a mocking voice came out of the sanctity of Master Fung's shirt. Suddenly the green of a head poked its way out of their Master's shirt collar. "He didn't come to give you praise and be on his merry way..." The two-armed dragon slithered his way out of the confines and made his way to the ground. He did not look pleased and his seriousness lit flame and burned the previous carelessness setting a mood for something more morbid.

The elder elaborated with his calm voice, the explanation they expected, "What Dojo is trying to say is that I have a purpose for interrupting your warm-up."

Raimundo scoffed, "That much we could tell." The brunet casually crossed his arms allowing the droll story to unfold before him, whatever it may be.

Ignoring the annoyed jibe that meant no disrespect, Master Fung continued, "It seems that all the food that was going to be prepared for tonight’s supper..." looking for an explanation from his students he paused. When no one took up his sentence he continued, "was prepared and left on it's own accord..." no one said a word. "So you four will be going on errands for new ingredients."

"Awww," the assassins in training whined in unison.

"But, Master Fung, does the kitchen not have a most large supply of food?" Omi offered in hope of squirming his way out of the task, a large smile forcing itself onto his lips.

"Ah, yes...it most certainly does,” Master Fung agreed without a second though. Omi smiled and sighed thinking that saying that made the chore less necessary. “But,” his smile dissipated. “It would seem that someone at the temple was very much looking forward to the meal in question, and as it has miraculously gotten up and walked away, someone has to get the new ingredients.” Omi’s emotions furthered as a frown began to mollify his face, there was something in the way Master Fung said ‘someone’ that put him ill at ease. It seemed as though there was something deeper in the word, something that alone it did not infer. It was as though there was a somewhat sinister – more accusatory than anything else – inflection in the elders voice that drew into the statement. Omi furrowed his brow in thought. Perhaps Master Fung implied that he knew they had prepared the food once they had left their confinement, but there was something about it that made him think that it was something more.

Master Fung, seeing the change in Omi’s equanimity caught his nigrescent eyes and held them, he seemed to be attempting to convey something to the smallest boy. Omi hung on his words. “Seeing as you all are performing well on your daily exercises and just got out of one of the rigorous obstacles that furthers your training abilities but take a toll on your body, it would be prudent to get out of the temple and give you a little bit of a break while still having you be productive." Master Fung was smiling gently the entire time he spoke, and Omi immediately knew something was wrong. Master Fung never suggested without alternative intention that they leave the temple. In the past he had let them go out on errands, but quite a bit had been going on with the revolt recently and they hadn’t been allowed out in months. Catching something in the man’s cobalt eyes Omi opened his mouth to speak.

“–So basically you want us to go get it because someone has to and you and all of the other old coots here don’t want to have to walk the four mile trip into town and back weighed down with groceries,” Rai followed his master’s gestures dully as Omi turned and fixed him with a glare for interrupting him before he’d begun to speak. During this transgression Omi completely missed the exchange between Rai and Master Fung who, upon Rai’s accusations shot the boy a heated glare that clearly spoke otherwise. Kimiko and Clay immediately picked up on the unspoken words and the tension came in suddenly, a heavy mist of anxiety weighing a great burden down onto the shoulders of the three children who witnessed and confirmed that something far greater than missing groceries was going on.

Ignorantly Omi turned back to the pleasantly smiling master, “Say what you will Raimundo but the fact remains the same: supplies are needed and you four are available to get them.” Omi attempted to analyze some underlying meaning to the master’s words but seemed to be picking up on very little.

Raimundo’s rejoinder was admitting defeat; he scoffed and averted gaze as he turned around to face the other way. He said nothing.

Master Fung nodded, "This is a list of the things that you will need to get from the market." He handed a piece of paper to Omi along with a small bag of gold. "I want the change." Walking over to Raimundo Master Fung gave him a stern look and Rai half-heartedly returned the gesture. "This is a very important message Raimundo. I expect it to be handled with care, and do not get it confused with the shopping list or lost." Looking at the boy with a lingering severity he handed him the paper. "Do not read the contents under any circumstances until you have reached the secured destination. If someone tries to get a hold of it – make sure it is destroyed before that happens. The address is on the front of the paper."

Raimundo nodded his head curtly, "yes, Master Fung."

"Good. Now then, on your way, it is one in the afternoon now; we won’t be expecting you back until five or six. We will be eating late this evening." He bowed then added, "Dojo will see you off." With that he was swallowed into the shadows that licked him into the dimming darkness.

"He's sure in a good mood," Rai shot in frustration as he shoved the cumbersome note into his pocket. "He acts as though I screwed up or haven't been fulfilling my duties."

Dojo shook his head at this, "You don't know the half of it. He's just having a very stressful day; bad things are going on right now, I’m sure that you noticed. He is probably just sending you out on this chore because he doesn’t want you all to get involved in anything that is going on right now. Well, that and he’s being snippy with you because that is probably the most important message you've sent yet. He just wants to re-establish the importance of your position so that you take it seriously." Dojo shrugged as an after thought. "Anyway, you should really head out, the walk takes like an hour to get down the mountain alone. It takes even longer to reach town, and longer still to get to the market."

The group let out a heavy sigh, and started off to the entrance, going down another long hallway that was located at the back of the room. The heavy air lingered where Master Fung had left. Silently Omi worried his bottom lip in wonder, his feet slowing as his thoughts flew past him. What could have Master Fung so intent on getting them out of the building?

The walk was long and filled with silence. With Omi’s thoughts slowing him down it didn’t take long before he lagged far behind his other friends. Though it seemed that Rai was not as quick to run ahead. "Don't worry about it Omi," Raimundo said softly after they had lagged far enough behind the group to have their voices fall to indiscriminate whispers to any eavesdroppers.

Omi jumped a little bit at the suddenness of Raimundo’s voice and shot the emerald-eyed boy a questioning side-glance without saying anything.

“It doesn’t concern us,” Rai elaborated. “You shouldn’t worry about whatever is going on here, there is always something going on that they never tell us and always figure it out.” Raimundo smiled, “Just let it go for now. You look as if you think anymore you’re head is going to overload and explode.”

Omi blinked and frowned. “If you think too much your head explodes?” he asked suddenly, quite surprised.

Raimundo opened his mouth to say something and stopped himself. Turning his attention forward he smiled. “Yes Omi. That is exactly what I meant,” he said sarcastically and ran ahead to catch up with their group. All Omi could do was gape after him and try not to think too hard.

The way to the front door wasn't too far from the training room they had been in and it wasn't long before the nook that held the door on its other side came into view. Omi had finally caught up with his friends and in an attempt to think less turned his attention to their dragon companion. "So Dojo, are you going to join us on this quest?" he asked the little reptile.

Looking skeptically at the equally little Water Dragon he snorted, "Not this time sorry. I do not want to travel in someone's clothes or a handbag; it's hard to breathe and very uncomfortable. I'll get back to you on that offer when Chase Young retracts the law that any and all dragons have to be sent to his sorry ass for 'inspections' and whatnot. I know a lie when I see one, and that is a whopper. He doesn't inspect them. I'll be damned the day that he follows that law. Once a dragon is sent to his doors, they are doomed to never see the light of day."

Omi shook his head at the falsification but sighed in defeat, today was becoming tiresome and he really was not in a mood for an argument, "Alright Dojo, I'll be sure to hold you to your word."

Just then, they came upon the front entrance.

Two large doors that went up to the ceiling greeted them with extravagant details. Looking to the amazing marksmanship, it held an air of apprehension presence and age. It was carved form the stone of the mountain and with a trained hand sanded flat. If the size of the door was anything to go off of it was a godly creation, but the intricate detail was even more intense. Curls, lines, jagged marks, smooth waves, texture that was alive wove and winded over the whole of the doors, stopping where the defined crease was from one door to the next to continue and finish engraving the imprint on to the surface of the stone and into any awaiting mind. But those small lines on that extending surface came together to create true art as a picture surface formed on it. The detailed picture was made for sending shivers down the spines of onlookers. The design itself was so elaborate it had to have taken months to perfect, years at least. Four elemental dragons molding to their nature swirled across the surface, each one, with its talon hands grasping an orb at the center of the two doors. On the carvings a thick paint was brushed with the smallest tip to get in every single detail of the dragons, every shade of darkness and every highlight. It was only with this extraordinary amount of colored detail that you could see the orb at the center of the Earth in all its glory. One rather interesting aspect of the carving was the dragons themselves, each colored with a shade that went along with their element also blended into their element at their long tails, arms, and whiskers. But more interesting still, was the color of their eyes. The artist had decided rather than carving or painting the eyes, a different kind of crystal was embedded into its socket, giving the eyes a more deep and lively detail.

The first time Omi had seen the eyes, it had given him the impression the dragons themselves were alive, and looking into his soul. It was undoubtedly the most detailed anything throughout the whole of this temple. Omi frowned as the Old Master’s words once again began to fill his mind at the story behind the door and an important secret that few knew about it. But he quickly pushed the man from his mind, not caring for whatever prophecy the story told. He was growing angry with himself that everything seemed to remind him of the fallen figure.

The group didn’t make note of Omi’s inner turmoil as they sighed together and went about gathering their cloaks and outdoor shoes.

"Get back in one piece!" Dojo called to them as he continued down the hall not wanting to spend a moment longer than he had to at the door to the world beyond. He was answered with inaudible groans before he continued down the hall and could hear nothing of them but their echoed rummaging, it sounded lonely to the empty halls as he fell into the darkness of the fortress.

At this temple there was a door less closet to the left of the front door. Inside it was a quaint arrangement of outside shoes and traveling cloaks lined up neatly on shelves that composed the closet. Everyone in the building, if it could be called that, owned only a single pair of each, positioned perfectly in the cubby labeled with their name. Most of the time though, everything in the closet remained out of use as going outside was a rarity for all. Everything in the closet was in uniform likeness, and dull with drab colors. It didn't take long to change from one set of shoes to the other, and took an even lesser amount of time to return the shoes they had been wearing to the confines of their shelf. Like their plain black shoes, their cloaks were equally as plain and uninteresting, a pale brown that looked of dirt – for the sake of saying so, they smelled like it too – and was made with a thick and heavy material that extended to the ground brushing lightly against the surface. If worn correctly, the extra cloth at the top was used to wrap around your head and hide the wearer's face in the shadows of the hood.

Due to the fact that the four of them rarely traveled anywhere, the elders insisted that it was a necessity for them to cover from head to toe, especially when they went into town. It would have caused the town's folks to question why a group of children where going shopping when they had never seen them before as the towns’ people seemingly memorized all of their regular customers. The attire was very uncomfortable and very hot, but it would do them no go to be recognized in the profession they were in, so they were supposed to always dress bleakly and go under the preface of travelers that just so happened to be in the neighborhood.

After a couple of minutes of arranging and rearranging their cloaks, they were ready to go.

Now the main door being a big stone door weighing over two tons had two ways of opening, one: a crank that connected to a system of chains that connected to a system of gears that slowly slid the doors opened or two: Clay, also known as the Earth Dragon. At the Xiaolin Temple there have always been four masters of the elements water, wind, fire, and earth. Just like the dragons carved into the door, they were in-tuned to their specific element, the element itself was in their soul when they were born and there were only four in all the world. In this case, there was Omi-Water Dragon, Raimundo-Wind Dragon, Kimiko-Fire Dragon, and Clay-Earth Dragon. Each of them was a part of their element and their element was an extension of themselves. All of their moves in martial arts had their elements' embedded into them.

Clay stepped forward as the other three spoke quietly amongst themselves, as it turned out no one was all that eager to go on this trip and it was proven as Clay unceremoniously slammed his foot to the ground and inwardly commanded the door to come apart. If that wasn't enough, the dragon's proceeded in whining about going on this journey as they stepped out into the burning sun. The moments following their complaints were of the collection adjusting their eyes to the light; it had been many months since their last encounter with day. Most of their outings were at night with the only light to brighten their path the moon, this of course was to bathe in a lake a little ways up the dirt road, but even that wasn't recent; lately they had been using the springs that went through the mountain to bathe. There were several places throughout their building that water traveled allowing them to do so.

On a different note, today was a beautiful day and it had been so long that they had seen the wonders of the world that extended beyond their cavern's walls, that the power of day seemed to be an unreal quality with the abundance of light that seemed to never cease with the suns fiery rays. Despite themselves and their complaints about the task they were being forced to complete, the children took in all they could with a deep breath and sigh. A powerful gust of wind swirled about them in welcome as Raimundo let down his guard to be able to feel his element brush fondly against his shoulder. The heavy-set cloaks ruffled softly in the forceful air, but otherwise didn't move much about.

Raimundo was the first to speak after their vow of silence to gaze at the beauty of the world, “enough gawking, let’s get moving...this is going to be a looooong walk.”

No one responded, but everyone silently obeyed, taking in everything that they had been missing out on in their absence of the outside, they slowly trudged toward their goal.

Scene Four of Five

The walk down the mountainside was long and strenuous; however, it wasn’t until they had made it to the market, that they had reached past the point of sweaty and beat. The assumed hour and a half journey had actually made it up past two hours by their internal clock. The sun set high above their heads in the sky, hot. Painfully hot but well past the insufferable time of day. The fact they were dressed so heavily only added to the uncomfortable stickiness of their bodies, and worse yet was the fact that they still had to go back up the mountainside after shopping through the list Master Fung had given them.

“Carrots...salt...onion...garlic...tomatoes...fishR 11;” Omi lazily read down the list of necessary items and stopped walking suddenly frowning slightly. “–Fish?” he repeated in confusion. “This is most interesting...do any of you remember eating fish earlier this afternoon...?” he queried, staring transfixed at the little piece of paper.

“No…can’t say I did, partner,” Clay frowned and leaned over Omi’s little shoulder, having to bend down just to get close enough to see the list.

“Then that means we’ve been tricked!” Raimundo scowled furiously, not that he hadn’t already figured that out. “Those geezers just wanted us to do the shopping so that they wouldn’t have to do it later.”

“Would seem so,” Clay sighed. “He just gave us a list of some of the things we're out ‘a...not the stuff we ate.”

Omi’s sharp eyebrow quirked suddenly in annoyance, “That was a most devious trick that Master Fung passed on us.”

Kimiko shook her head; “Well we’re already here so lets get this over with in a timely manner. The sooner we get it done, the sooner we can get back to argue with Master Fung.”

The group of Dragon assassins grumbled hotly as they fidgeted with their heavy cloaks. They watched as people passed by them merrily in thin red, brown, or blue robes out of the corner of their eye. Wishing they could be among them instead of under the heavy cloaks that donned their backs as they slowly melted beneath the thick fabric.

Omi’s eyes skimmed over the scurrying crowds, lightly noting any possible threats. If some of the guards came they would have to be quick on their feet. Though they wouldn’t be easily recognized through the haze of faces, cloaked figures might appeal to at least some sense of curiosity or suspicion. Relaxing slightly as there didn't seem to be anyone out today above a blue robe, he stored the fact away for later reference.

Without choosing his mind to wonder, he drifted off into a silent daydream, eyes attending only to the people around them. The status of social presence in this day and age was most bothersome; he almost wanted someone to walk down the street in a rainbow shirt. Omi shifted under his hood; depending on how high a person is on the social ladder directly relates to the colors that they can wear in public. Originally, this was a system produced simply so that if anyone of governmental stature decided to go on a killing spree, they'd be able to easily tell who was important in producing vital goods so that they would know who to avoid killing–but from what Omi had heard on the subject, the government rarely paid attention even to the color of the clothes they killed– however, now it seemed the only use left in the colored system was in helping decipher an argument of the towns people themselves. It was presently used only to minimize unrest among the people so that there didn't have to be bothered trials and arguments and random fighting. The rules were simple, if you got in a fight with someone in a higher class, they were always right and you were not; it was as simple as that.

Though the four of them did not come to town often–lesser recently than ever before–Omi knew that it wasn't odd that there were only blue robes out. Actually, it was to be expected that only the commoner would run around like ants out of a hive every morning, noon, and night. That was why they had the lesser in their staff, so as they would not be bothered with the trivial details of daily life. So again, there was no surprise to be had over those who seemed to be roaming the streets, he was sure if there were higher-ups that it would be plainer to see that something was amiss in the day if they, too, were roaming for whatever reason. Even so, it is to say that he also knew the difference between not seeing something and something not being there, it was a different matter entirely and was not well worth the risk. Nothing was ever definite enough to say for sure if there weren’t some higher-ups looming in the evening shadows somewhere, just waiting for a revolting figure to take down once they took their stand.

Omi fought the urge to sigh deeply. As much as he enjoyed coming to town and missed seeing the daily events that he had often failed to see from living at the temple, something seemed extremely odd about today, excessively so. Everything seemed so painfully commonplace; he'd hoped to see something new that warranted a better feeling of excitement. It was as though the essence that made differences from day to day had slipped somewhere and everything was ordinary. A strange sense of foreboding slipped under his skin making it crawl. It seemed much too normal here–a tenseness in the air made itself know with its heavy pressure on his agile body and it was all he could do to ignore it by worrying his bottom lip with his teeth–but through all the normalcy there seemed to be something missing, something big and gaping that should not go unnoticed. He skipped through his thoughts again in search of a possible answer he had overlooked. When none came to him, he choose simply not to think about it. Maybe there was some merit in thinking too much being a bad thing. Looking over the hooded faces of his friends he let the lone thought slip as to whether or not they noticed the difference as well, and if they hadn’t would it be imperative to inform them of the matter? It seemed that they were being oddly quite since the start of the walk, everyone preoccupied with something distant from the surfaces of their minds.


Omi sighed though his cloak, whipping his brow with his arm. He seemed to be getting overheated because of the cloak...that was most annoying.

Looking for a matter to distract him from the unease at hand, he wondered back to the colors for the social divider; from memory he could assume there were about twenty total. There was an average of three colors for each group, but most importantly there was one deemed casual and one special occasion in each group. The casual clothes order was: brown, red, blue, green...and from there it was divided into colors and styles. Anyone above wearing green clothes in public was generally of governmental status, or appointed to it from important connections.

Omi looked pointedly at the paper before him, the entire idea that your social standing be shown by the clothes you wear seemed stupid to him but there were more important things to attend to, like getting this stupid list done and over with. “I think we should divide into groups, and split up so we can go through this list faster,” Omi mumbled as he began to organize the list into the items.

Rai looked to Omi through the shadows of his hood, “Sounds good to me, I’ll be having to split up eventually to get this stupid note delivered.”

Omi looked to the other two, and was pleased when he received a nod of consent, “Well, Raimundo and I can get all of the main ingredients, and Kimiko and Clay can go spice hunting,” Omi reached into his cloak and pulled out the bag of gold, giving a little more than half to Kimiko because the price of spices seemed to be steeper than that of regular meat. “Anyway, after you two get all of the spices, you can head back. I shall stay with Raimundo to make the quick delivery of the note."

Rai frowned in his hood, a pointless expression as no one could see it, but it didn't hurt so it didn't much matter either way. "Um…Omi…I don't need you to come with me. I'm fine on my own. This job is literally nothing. We can just set up a meeting place and–"

Omi proceeded in making a most displeased noise, "No, I must insist. As long as we are all together I will go with you. I promise that I will not interfere with your mission, but at least let me accompany you."

Rai was about to make a move of protest when Kimiko interjected, "Are you kidding me Omi? We can all just meet at the base of the mountain when we're done. You can go with Rai on his mission," she shot him a glare he couldn't see, "but we will all meet up on the way back. The way home is much too long and boring for two people; it'll be more fun if we travel the majority of the walk together." Her voice was stern and left little room for argument, so Raimundo didn't feel too much into testing the young girl's short fuse.

"Fine, but only if Omi promises not to interfere no matter what, leave if trouble comes, and not come in with me when I make the delivery. I'm not about to have the guy I'm to give this note to think I couldn't have handled it alone. I'm a professional, and I'll be damned if I’m not seen me as one." Crossing his arms defiantly he awaited Omi's promise.

"Alright, I promise," Omi sighed exasperatedly.

"Promise what?" Rai shot back, there was going to be no misunderstanding.

Omi was tempted to pull his hood back to show his skeptical expression but held firm on the urge, "I promise," he repeated "That I will most definitely not join battle, get in your way, run when you tell me to, and wait most patiently outside for you to return after completing your mission." Omi huffed, "Why not just say, I promise to do whatever you tell me to?"

Raimundo smirked, if only he would do whatever he told him to…now that would be most interesting. "Good. That's all I ask. Now then, give Kimiko and Clay their list and lets go shopping."

Omi barely had two seconds to rip the list in half and give the others theirs before Raimundo had snatched his collar and was literally dragging him off to go shopping. Omi waved at his to cloaked friends before the crowd of people in the marketplace had swallowed them with the whole of their mass. Squirming immediately after the two were out of sight he tried to regain his stolen ability to walk.

"Raimundo...it is most difficult to attempt walking backwards when someone is pulling your collar," he protested as he tugged at the front of his cloak collar. Rai stopped suddenly and let go so unexpectedly, Omi lost balance and fell with a graceful 'plop' right on his ass. "Ow!" he mumbled as he got up to see what had Raimundo stopping so suddenly. Peaking over he allowed his hood to fall carelessly off his head. Omi frowned whole-heartedly as soon as he saw what Rai was eyeing. "Raimundo, not this again. We came here for necessities not games."

Rai pulled his entire cloak off, not caring for the bothersome thing anymore he draped it on his arm, "Not that Omi. The food stand next to it!" Omi followed his apparent gaze to a...pastry shop.

"Cakes?" he asked.

"Duh! It seems like forever that we’ve had any sweets. I think we deserve a little snack." Rai drooled lightly as the present smell of sugary delicacies filled the warm summer air.

Omi frowned and looked to the bag of coins he was now carrying in his hand. They would be cutting it close to snag a snack for the two of them...but if they got one for Clay and Kimiko...they would surely not have enough. Hesitantly he spoke, “Maybe after we finish shopping and you finish your mission...then if we have enough, on our way to the mountain we can stop there and get something...”

Rai's emeralds glittered with hunger, "That sounds great to me. Let's rush this stupid chore then!" Looking to Omi expectantly a new vigor joining his gaze, he asked, "What's first on the list?"

Omi half-glanced at the paper before looking around, "Well, seeing as the fish cart is right next to us...I suppose fish can be first."

Rai had already started to the cart covered in fish and ice, "Sounds good to me. What kind of fish we getting?"

Omi shrugged as they neared, "Doesn't say. I would expect that Master Fung wants a most inexpensive and quality fish. I wouldn't think that he had anything particular in mind." Scanning through the sea of fish the duo looked carefully at the assortment and their prices. After a few minutes of browsing Omi spotted a nice looking fish with a reasonable price. Reaching out to grab it, he most unexpectedly grabbed the fish at the same moment as another pale hand.

"Hey!" a voice snapped as the fish was almost tugged out of Omi's grasp.

Frowning, the small assassin held his grip steady and looked up to see who else had seen the fish, and much to his distaste it was someone he'd met on many other occasions. "Jack Spicer!" he shouted and gripped his fish tail with two hands giving it an unfriendly tug.

The tall, slender teen frowned when he heard his name, narrowing his red eyes on the owner of the voice. Shock spread over his expression momentarily before he griped the fish's head with two hands, mimicking the litter’s tug. "Well, if it isn't the midget," he spat disdainfully, as a new determination to keep this particular fish instead of hunting for a different one guided his actions. "I thought because you haven't been here in months that you finally could see that you'd never win, that or you met an untimely death. Oh well, I guess dreams don't always come true." Frowning he tugged on the fish again, allowing his fiery hair to jerk suddenly forward. "Anyway on to the present matter. I. Saw. It. First!"

Ignoring the insult, Omi began to play tug-a-war with his fish of choice. By this time it seemed as though Raimundo had caught on to what was happening as there was a pained sigh followed by, "Aww...man...not him again. I swear, he's got to be stalking us," before he was in a front row seat watching the brawl over a piece of fish. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the shop owner looking desperately at the scene before him. Raimundo scoffed. Poor fool.

"Hey I heard that!" the pale teen growled tugging a bit harder on the fish, "And I resent that comment, it's not my fault we are constantly after the same freaking food."

The Wind Dragon crossed his arms and rose an eye brow, "Oh really? Then why is it we run into you EVERY time we go shopping, when we only go shopping maybe once a month at most?"

Jack snorted, "How the hell should I know? Oh wait...I do. It's because I go shopping every other day! And maybe it's you that's stalking me." He suggested concentrating on the scaled fish.

Making an expression of pure revolted repugnance; Raimundo glared menacingly, "That is the most disgusting thing you've thought up yet. Why would we waste our time with a loser like you? Anyway, that would only be your sickest fantasy."

Jack just snorted and took all his energy out on the fish before him.

Omi frowned and was using all his tugging power to keep hold of the flipping fish, "Jack Spicer, I order you to drop this fish this instant, as it was I who saw it first."

"Over my dead body!" was his angry retort, and the next moment both Jack and Omi were rolling around on the ground wrestling over the fish.

Holding his face in embarrassment Raimundo gave a painful sigh: all of this over a fish. Why did this happen every time they went shopping?

It seemed as though this little dispute was gaining attention as people stopped their daily shopping to take a quick peak at what the battle was over. Soon, a large group had gathered with giggles and whispers about the two rolling around on the floor with a fish between them. Raimundo did his best to blend into the background as he rubbed his temples with soothing circles. If someone didn't intervene soon, there might not be any fish left to buy.

For the most part it seemed like Omi was winning the fight, but as usual, Jack was annoying and didn't back down when he was already beaten. Tugging in an attempt to dislodge the fish out of Jack's surprisingly strong grip, Omi leaned over and bit Jack's hand forcing him to let go. The gathered crowd laughed as the skinny redhead proceeded to scream in a particularly high-pitched manner.

Omi smiled, and gave a triumphant wave of the fish as he proceeded to pay for it, while Jack nursed his bleeding hand with his tongue and mouth. Seeing that nothing else interesting was going to happen anytime soon, the crowd dispersed and Raimundo returned to his friend’s side, by that time, the fish wrapped and ready to go.

Rai took the wrapped and bagged fish from Omi and frowned, "You know, you could have just dropped the fish and found another one."

"Yes, I am aware of that. But I most undoubtedly found it first, it is only right that I should have it." Omi brushed the dirt from the ground off of his clothes, realizing but choosing to ignore the heated glare aimed at the back of his head.

Raking a hand through his hair, Rai sighed, "Sure thing Omi..." he agreed as they continued on their way of shopping.

Scene Five of Five

The rest of the shopping went about in its usual fashion for the two assassins. They looked down their list, went to their required shop and searched for good prices. As they found them, Jack Spicer would appear out of absolutely no where and claim that he 'saw it first,' from there they'd get into a fight and sometimes they won, and sometimes they didn't.

'And he says he is no stalker,' Omi thought imperturbably to himself. Altogether it was a painstakingly long process that made shopping take twice the amount of effort and time, but there was no helping it. It was normal. Not the unusual kind of normal that seemed to have befallen the market either. And from this Omi assumed that he should be somewhat grateful.

By the time the two had finished shopping completely, an hour or two had passed by. The crowds seemed to have diminished with the time and those that were out seemed more somber than before. Their faces only showed the tiredness of a long day and lacked the friendliness of a new one.

Omi sighed as he and his companion fell into step. The light sound of tapping shoes on paved streets took up a majority of what was usually used for casual conversation joined them, as they made their way towards the given address together, both weighed down heavily with bags of food. Lightly, Omi's mind wondered on the area of 'Jack Spicer, Evil Assistant' as he called himself. He sure was someone to contemplate. He wore any color that he chose – usually blacks and oranges – screw the system. He clearly did not care what a color meant when all he wanted to do was wear it. When asked why he wore the colors he did, he would say it was his right claiming right and left that because he worked directly under Chase Young he could do as he pleased. Whether this was true or not, had remained a mystery as Chase Young, his only defense, never came out of his palace unless he was on one of his mass killing sprees, and the only time they ran into Jack was when he was shopping, alone.

Chancing a glance to the left, Omi looked pointedly to the palace that shot out over the city, the same palace that most likely held his target at that very moment. It was built on a hill to the north of the city, and was surrounded completely on all sides by a high mountain range that dropped to a cliff on the far side; there were tall tales that these mountains had been developed by Chase Young himself to have a cliff like that on all sides, at the start of his reign. It was said that he wouldn't live anywhere unless it was undefeatable, so he went to the far side of the ridge and with unrivaled power shattered the surfaces so that it would be impossible to climb from the sides. After that was said and done, on the tip of each mountain he had military bases built so even if someone managed to get up the mountain, they surely couldn't get back down. It wasn’t until after these security measures were made that he had had a million men build his castle on a platform that was three miles in every direction, and when it was finished ten months later...they were all killed so no one would know the interior designs but himself. This was done to ensure his safety. But so said the story that it was his cruelty and blood lust that drove him to kill them all. –Of course the entire thing sounded like myth to Omi who had been forced to study any and all folklore and rumors that pertained to his subject of growing expertise. Frankly there was no way to tell whether it was true or not as the start of Chase Young's reign was nearly one hundred years ago. He couldn't remember the exact date; it was more accurate to say it was in the seventy to eighty year neighborhoods. The old Master, Master Guan was one of the only left of that generation of war who might know, but he was one hundred and three now – though he didn’t look it in the least – and he had never broached the topic of that time, as had the previous master. He surely looked as though he wasn’t going to approach the matter any time soon, either, as though the matter was some taboo never to be spoken of again.

Whether the story was fact or fable, it didn't really matter because there were some facts in it. It had taken a long time to weed though all the nonsense he had studied over the years, but the facts of this particular story were plain and apparent. The fact of the matter was that the other side of the mountain did have a ninety degree drop, there were military posts at the top of the mountains, and no one was alive that helped build the palace. To this day no one has been able to successfully breech the fortress, and it is to say that even if someone possibly wanted to and managed to make it over the mountain, and past the bases, every single entrance and exit would be completely guarded by Chase's army. No one that had attempted breaking in lived to tell the tale and all evidence that was around that area of protection beyond the bases for the castle itself was completely circumstantial, or pure ludicrous. The only reason that there was even things to be said about the palace was because all there was involving information, was insane passer-bys that had never actually been in the place and had only gotten their information on account of the things that they claimed to have seen. The only inclinations of the interior protection were the rumors of people passing in the neighborhood. Everything else that could possibly be accurate had been withheld as Chase Young was all about privacy; because he was a private person though, he was always the top choice for starting rumors. No one knew anything about him, so naturally whatever anyone could gather was everyone’s business – even if they had just decided to make something up; obviously in the mind of the people everyone should know. Nevertheless, the word continued to spread and it was said that the army wasn't the ones guarding his home, that he didn't trust them enough with the position of his personal guard, so he used his private bodyguards. One of the most interesting things about this theory was that the bodyguards weren’t human.

Omi scoffed to himself at that belief, but let his eyes roam over the white marble that glittered in the distance. He was a good thirty miles from the base of the building, but it seemed to shine as though he were two steps from it. Everything about the building was beautiful; it was ironic that such a vile being like Chase Young lived within its pure white walls.

The fact that the building's defenses where so high was the major reason that Omi was training at the temple. They knew no man could get in and live, so the only way to defeat Chase Young had to be under cover, working for him. Involuntarily, Omi's body shuddered. In a month he'd be in that building in that position...

Realizing that his mind had begun to wander, he returned to his thoughts on Jack and looked away from the enticing palace. Frankly, it seemed impossible that such an idiot would work for Chase Young, a man that killed because he could. Omi smirked, if he was Chase Young, Jack would have died a thousand times over. But still, he seemed to be loyal enough to the Prince of Darkness to be one of his lackeys...it was possible that Jack was a cook or something for him.

Omi snorted, and slapped his hand over his mouth as a thought struck him, fighting the urge to laugh and still hold his grocery bag.

Raimundo, who had been watching the expressions on Omi's face change like a chameleon flipping through its colors for quite some time, raised an eyebrow. A smile tickled his lips as he shifted the bags to a more comfortable position in his arms. "Hey Omi, what are you thinking about?" he asked finally when he couldn't contain his curiosity any longer.

Omi snorted again, then with a hand still covering his mouth, a chuckle escaping his throat he smiled, "Jack Spicer...in a pink apron." He said simply before laughing out-loud.

At that point in time, Rai made it a point to not ask why or where that thought came from...in the long run he'd more than likely be better off not knowing. Sighing he let the silence take over their conversation.

Omi, resuming his thoughts then continued to consider the possibilities of what Chase Young could want from Jack Spicer. Maybe he was a spy? Frowning, he disregarded that proposition, Jack was definitely not someone that was trust-worthy for the Xiaolin side, but if he were a spy for the GREAT Chase Young, why was he getting groceries daily? Surely he would have better jobs than that for a spy. Maybe he messed up on a mission...and now was forced to do daily chores to repent for his mistake? Omi frowned, was he actually considering the fact that ‘Jack Spicer, annoying stalker’ might be a spy?

Omi tripped suddenly, on nothing. Efficiently he corrected his faltered movement and thought intensely on the matter. If he were a spy that would explain why he was constantly running into them. Maybe Chase Young was on to the Xiaolin side, and Jack watched for their movements, and then every time they came out, followed them using the pretext that he was shopping for the evil leader Chase Young. What if the face of an idiot was all an act to throw them off his tail?

Now that wasn't possible.

There was no way he was a spy – that – that was a ridiculous notion! Seriously, this was Jack Spicer he was talking about, not the big mean wolf! He may have called himself evil, but he wouldn't hurt anyone. He was harmless, maybe even good. If he didn't have such an obsession with Chase Young, they probably would have been able to recruit him for their cause. Omi licked his lips nervously and looked suspiciously over his shoulder, almost expecting to see Jack hiding most conspicuously behind a tree. It didn't seem that they were being followed; he couldn't sense anyone's presence. It was impossible to imagine that Jack could mask his presence completely too. If he tired, it would be more like he was an elephant skipping though a teashop. –Or was it a glass store?

Oh well, that was beside the actuality. He was thinking too much into too many things, Jack Spicer, was Jack Spicer. That was all there was to it. He needed to think about something else, again. It seemed now, that every time his mind began to wander, strange thoughts planted themselves into his mind. Giving up on understanding Jack Spicer, he turned his attention to his tall companion. For a second it looked like Rai was looking at him out of the corner of his eye, but Omi didn't even register the thought before smiling coyly.

"Are we there yet?" he asked suddenly with a transparent innocence.

Raimundo smirked and leaned over to Omi, doing well to balance his bags elegantly, "Wouldn't you like to know?" he teased before shifting all the bags into one hand so he could reach inside his pants pocket and take out the note. Looking at the address scribbled on the front, he looked around at the none-to-pretty buildings, most of which seemed to be falling apart or in poor condition – though that was putting it lightly. "Nope. We still have a good walk ahead of us." Shoving the note back into his pocket he evenly distributed the weight of his four full bags.

Omi frowned and looked contemptibly to his one bag that rivaled his size. "Maybe it would have been better to drop the note off first..." he offered out of nowhere.

Rai raised a brow, "Why'd you say that?" he retorted casually.

"Master Fung said the note was important, as did Dojo...it seems foolish to put off the note for buying dinner."

Rai shrugged, "He said it was important. Not urgent. As long as we're careful there won’t be a problem. If buying the food first makes it so that we can concentrate better on the task at hand, that is better than rushing in and dropping it on the way, right?"

That seemed logical, Omi nodded to himself in agreement. "Do you know where we are going?"

"If you mean, have I been there before, yes. It's a small temple that doesn't look like a temple on the outskirts of town. They gather intelligence from people on the street and are constantly recruiting people for the cause.” Raimundo explained, “We have about another ten minutes walk until there won't be any buildings. Then, there will be a beaten up dirt path that will lead us into a forest and we'll have another fifteen minutes to go. It's way out of the way but the Heylin side has never located it, so that's cool. Really it's the head quarters for all of the shops in this city that are devoted to the Xiaolin ways. In the city all of the walls have ears so it's the place people go to discuss...important matters." Rai yawned looking up to the sky dizzily.

Omi didn't like the sound of that. If it were such an important place, Raimundo shouldn't talk so freely about it in the city…especially not with hints to its location. But he had promised that he wouldn't interfere, or question Rai for that matter...so he remained silent.

"You know...I wish we could come outside more often," Rai said suddenly causing Omi to look at him expectantly. His face was upturned and he looked expectantly to the sky, almost as Omi looked at him now. Waiting for an answer that didn't come, but patiently just the same.

They continued walking in silence for a long time. Neither turned their gaze from where it was locked.

When it seemed that Rai wasn't going to elaborate, Omi pressured the conversation, "Why?"

The little piece of reality seemed to break Rai out of his trance; he looked at Omi in question, "Hum?"

"Why do you wish we could come outside more often?" the smaller reiterated.

Rai blinked before laughing, "Oh, I didn't realize I said that out loud. I was just thinking, what if we could train outside? What would it be like to grow with the world, instead of being trapped in our cave? It's like the box we were in for two days...it just wasn't right...it makes me wonder why we always have to grow in our box instead of with free reign with our elements..." Rai didn't seem to know what he wanted to say, he rambled on stammering over it all, but didn't seem to grasp it completely himself.

Omi waited as he fought for understanding, but he didn't know what the Wind Dragon was getting at so he too perused perceptiveness. "What do you mean? We must train indoors. It's the only way we can be certain that we're not being watched. If we were outside we would risk getting caught."

Rai shifted under the weight of his burden, "Yeah, I know...it's a silly thought, you probably won’t understand. It's like this...don't you think that we should have the right to be outside? I mean...I feel cheated that we can't even be able to feel the wind run though our hair...or the sun on our skin...Omi...think of it like your element...you're water...don't you hate to be trapped? Erg...I mean–water is trapped like in ponds and stuff, so not like that...I mean...wouldn't you rather be able to run with your current?" Omi looked at him skeptically so he gave up with an exasperated huff. "If you can't relate to it that's fine...but for me...I'm the wind. I want to be free to be able to go wherever my heart is content. I don't want to learn in a cave where all there is is the dark and the rocks.

"It's like I’m trapped in that damned box and I will never get out." Rai sighed and let them walk in silence as they passed the last building and entered into the forest. Omi began to mull over the facts of what Rai was tying to build to when his thoughts were interrupted. "Don't you ever feel like the good side is contaminated?" he said suddenly in a hauntingly small voice.

It took Omi a good minute to completely comprehend what Rai was talking about. But it still didn't make sense. In the very back of his mind, Omi felt a sense of foreboding wash over him. He could feel that something Rai was saying was true, perhaps more so than he would have liked…a sense of déjà vu hit him in a wave, heavy, and thick with an invisible pressure that almost brought him to his knees. He was suddenly very cold, though there was no chilled wind biting at him to pass the feeling off as. In the forefront of his mind he could see the tangibility of a memory lost into the depths of his mind. There, something teased him with whispers, soft whispers in his ear or inaudible words he couldn’t even begin to understand. Words that brought him no closer to whatever thought his mind seemed to be evading from him in the veil of fog that seemed to dull his senses. There was something important that he needed to remember…

Rai sighed, and just when Omi though he had had his hands wrapped around the thought, it escaped him. Looking to Rai, he saw the boy’s emerald eyes with a dazed look as they gazed blankly at the sky. He wasn't talking to Omi anymore, and they both knew it. "It's like we lost our purity and innocence. No one is completely 'good' anymore. I mean, look at us! We're freaking assassins, Omi, assassins! We go around killing people. That’s our job. Tell me, what's so 'good' and 'pure' about that?" Rai's eyes burned with anger and defiance when he said that. He paused and let the silence and wind roll over him in a soothing set of waves before he continued, he voice tired, and defeated...much like the old Master's had been... "I...don't think there is any goodness left in good. There is so much more going on here that we don't understand...everything we believe may as well be...” Raimundo stopped suddenly as though he’d realized what he had been saying but Omi could feel the words that had been left unspoken as Rai turned his head towards him, his expression suddenly hard and muted. His eyes locked with Omi and dared him, dared Omi to comment and question his loyalty. Demanding it as his lips stayed firmly planted together and his words were gone in the wind.

‘– a lie.’

Omi frowned and felt his thoughts shutting down on him, again a haze of thoughts blurred through his mind and he struggled to grab at them. Though it seemed the more he struggled the more they would slip through his fingertips and leave him, escape him far out of his reach – Raimundo’s hard expression helped little with its silence and demand – it was like, like he was reaching for sand like he could feel it in his hands before it slowly began to slip away – Challenging him for the form of Omi’s own opinion – no, not like sand, he decided – the opinion he didn’t really have – like water running out of his hands.

Omi frowned and fumbled for a response that had escaped him one that got stuck in his throat in the form of a large lump. He simply couldn’t force it out because then he would hear it too, and though he didn’t know why, he knew he couldn’t hear it. Omi swallowed the lump in his throat, and with it whatever comment was trying to surface.

Oddness took root under Omi’s skin at the soft caress of the air. He shivered.

Maybe it was just the strange of the day behind them. The uncharacteristic sweat on Master Fung’s brow, the tampering hitch in the elder’s speech, the feeling of wrongness he had received from the town. Perhaps there was a link between them all and the day was just wrong. Wrong like Raimundo’s words that had died in the wind, in the expression of challenge that uncharacteristically fit across his face, a challenge that was new and not like it had ever been before. Maybe it was in the dullness in his mind that kept him from thinking clearly; maybe they were all the same thing. If that was the case then he didn't really know what everything was leading up to. Maybe that was it. Everything was leading up to something. That was all.

Though the silence that answered said otherwise. And what was left not thought was this: maybe all this was, all this sickening fear, and wild thoughts that seemed to seep into everything morphing things to what they shouldn’t be. Morphing everything that was real beyond the temple walls was this: ‘–a lie’

What if Rai is right?

Not two seconds from when Rai spoke and glared, Omi smiled back. Before all he had thought was though his voice got ahead of him and spoke before his mind even had a chance to catch up, "You shouldn't say things like that Raimundo. There will always be a yin and a yang. You can't have only one."

Raimundo gave him a sympathetic expression one that went unnoticed by the other, still deep in thought, he whispered something that Omi missed. "…But that wasn't what I meant Omi. I didn't say there was only one. The world isn't as simple as black and white; I was just saying that nothing could possibly be completely one or the other. That –"

Omi interrupted, "It doesn't matter." He insisted shortly leaving no room for continuance. Rai shut his mouth registering something in Omi's voice that made him stop dead. Something that even Omi himself didn’t recognize. From there an uncomfortable silence settled over them.

Neither plied the conversation.

And the rest of their walk continued that way, all that could be heard was the rustling of the trees overhead, and the sweet songs of the mockingbird as their feet flew swiftly over the beaten path.

"We're here," Rai said suddenly as a building appeared behind the brush.

Omi who was still locked into the confines of his mind, missed Raimundo’s sudden speech completely; he walked straight into the other boy and dropped his bag, suddenly falling to the ground. Surprised by the intrusion, Raimundo turned around and made a move to catch him. Only the catch failed miserably. Losing balance himself, Rai dropped his own bags and grabbed for air as he felt himself stumble to the ground. In a mix of arms, legs, and fallen groceries Rai didn’t know what else to do and started laughing. Flustered by the embarrassing outcome of not paying attention, Omi fumbled to get out of the awkward position and gather up the fallen foods, all the while frowning at the hysterical Rai that didn’t seem to be much help at gathering the scattered material. After a prolonged bout of laughing and fetching, Omi had finally finished gathering and re-bagging the assortment of items.

Raimundo stumbled to his feet and over to where Omi was standing. “Talk about the domino effect,” Rai smiled moving to take up his fallen bags. “We’re here,” he repeated and made to move forward.

Omi, who had yet to realize that they had indeed arrived, allowed his eyes to widen at the sturdily crafted building that lay hidden in the forest. It wasn't at all like he had imagined; it wasn’t anything massive like the temple buried within the mountain confines, but it was the most unique building he had seen the entire day – next to the Dark Palace of course – it was made completely of stones like the palace was, but nothing as vibrant as white. The rocks were earthy colors and the way that it was composed was so completely natural it was like nature in house form: cozy and quaintly small.

Omi’s eyes scanned over it, immediately stopping upon what looked like a small man made pond just before the house. Once discovered, it was the first thing he wanted to see, perhaps there was something living in the pond to amuse him in the duration of Raimundo’s soon to be absence.

Raimundo followed the smaller’s gaze and seemed to read his mind. “The building is bigger than it looks. There are a series of underground rooms…and yes, Omi. There are giant koi in the pond.”

Omi’s eyes widened and gave the appearance of sparkling. It was the most – he couldn't think of an appropriate word – comfortable house he had ever seen. It was almost like a cottage...but built with more than one room, judging from the size there were three rooms on the ground level, and it had a basement? Omi scrutinized the area nearly believing the existence of such a homely place to be a joke. Behind the cottage with a stone that matched what the house was built was a desolate hill; it was the only thing odd that didn’t seem to fit perfectly into the scene. Other than that, it looked like a house right out of the little red hooded child’s story. It was a moment more before he decided that the landscape before him was most definitely real that Omi nearly dropped the bag he was carrying to run over to the pond. In a rush, he set his bag down and peeked into the water, startling the large fish enough to scatter.

Raimundo smirked to himself as he made his way over to the other, setting his cloak and bags next to the spot Omi was sitting by the bank of the small pond. "I don't know how long it will take, but I'll make it as quick as I can, okay Omi?" Omi nodded as he watched the fish swirl around in the water, awed by the clear of the water and closeness of the fish. "Don't move from this spot until I come back out to get you, alright?" Omi nodded again. "But most importantly don't make too much noise, and talk to no one. You understand me Omi?" Omi didn't even look up from the fish to nod his head. "Good, I'll be back as soon as I can." With that, Raimundo moved over to the house and went inside without knocking, he didn't look back at Omi once as the door shut behind him.

Amusing himself by the motions of the water against the dance of the fish’s fins, time seemed to trickle away in a reflection to the water that the fish pushed behind them, inconsequential and unnoticed. Omi had always like fish and water, preferably water but the way fish could exist in it so freely made him green with envy, so every time he got the ability to watch them so closely he jumped at the chance and did so with his unsurpassed childlike interest. The movements of the water to which he was acutely aware slipped though his mind with fluent ease. The way the water reacted to the fish’s smooth grace imprinted itself in his mind. Time was lost to the trance of the swirling abyss.

But no interest, even fish in water, could only last so long and soon the source of his amusement ran dry leaving him alone...and bored. Unbearably so.

Omi sighed not wanting to think about anything. The day had already been filled with unneeded thought, a vast amount at that. Sitting beside the bank he began to fidget, contenting himself with running his fingers through the cool liquid. A pattern appeared and he grew weary. Thinking nothing had the same effect had been his only prior source of amusement, and finally he stood up.

A toll seemed to have taken hold of him suddenly and he felt like a change of scenery. The comforting setting forced a sense of normalcy down on him that made the land seem, not peaceful, but too peaceful. The feeling made him anxious. He always had a strict schedule, one that was always in place. Time of leisure graced him rarely and when it did he was left feeling apprehensive, as he was now. He was wasting time and had nothing better to do. Raimundo’s parting words left him with little solace as to what to do now, and wanting to do something was all that mattered now.

He might as well look around a bit, lest his vision provide him with something less redundant to provide amusement with; he'd stay within hearing distance, and come as soon as Rai called out to him. That way he would be busy and not need to worry about the constraining hold of boredom.

Smiling, Omi got up and began to explore the forest. Raimundo would never know he'd gone in the first place.

There was no impairment in wandering if he didn't go far, right? After all, wasn’t exploring something completely harmless? –Or so though he as he made his way into the crowded trees and distant shadows, completely unaware of the chaos that had begun throughout this normal day.