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It has been nearly a year since Shen had taken Tien away from the Crane School in his attempt to find Chiaotzu. In that time, the pines around it had grown thick and wild: needles thickly blanketed the ground and branches crowding close to the stone building. The door was just as big as Chiaotzu remembered it. Huge and wooden. Wrought iron detailing. And a massive log sealing it shut: a new addition since he had last seen it.
“Are you okay?”
The voice came from a huge distance. Echoed in the depths of his brain before registering. He turned, and forced a thin smile onto his face. “Yes, I’m fine.”
Tien didn’t look convinced. He, like Chiaotzu, was wearing loose-fitting, second-hand clothes that they had bought a few weeks after leaving Nutmeg Village. In the bag slung over his left shoulder were more outfits, and a few scrounged Zenii. His hair had grown out in the eight months they had been travelling, hanging into his eyes. Behind him, Papaya—the young woman who had been present during their final stand against Shen in her shop and who had insisted on joining them in their journey—stood, open mouthed, staring at the building.
“It looks so…small,” she said in a low, disbelieving voice.
“What were you expecting?” Tien asked, turning away for a second. Giving Chiaotzu time to recover and come back to himself.
“From the infamous Crane dojo?” Papaya gestured with both hands at the high roofed stone building in frustration. “I don’t know: a moat!? Crocodiles?? Yeah it’s a big door, but where are the spikes!?”
There was a brief moment of silence, then Tien started laughing. A rolling belly laugh. Tears squeezing from his eyes as his knees gave out and he sat heavily on the ground.
“I’m just saying!” Papaya continued, either ignoring Tien’s outburst or pointedly feeding into it. “I wanted parapets and boiling oil and…you know…heads on stakes!”
This image hit Chiaotzu’s funny bone too, and he snickered into his hands. Tien slumped to the ground, kicking his feet and slamming his fist into the ground.
“You’re killing me,” he wheezed.
Papaya pressed on: “Where are the flayed skins of their enemies? Where’s the lava waterfall?? All I’m asking for is a bit of gravitas and villainy, you know!?”
When Chiaotzu turned towards her, he saw the grin on her face, the softness in her eyes as she looked at Tien. Though he was mature beyond his years—funny how trauma can do that to a kid—he was still only eight years old, and, though only seven years older, Papaya had become something like a mother to him. Or an older sister maybe.
Considering the gleeful way she continued prodding his laughter along, probably the latter.
Her words had had a soothing effect on Chiaotzu as well. Now when he looked at the big wooden door, the heavy log, the tarnished iron embellishments, he didn’t feel the same swooping fear that he had initially. The fear he had felt in years past. Until he was standing here, he didn’t realise how tangible those memories were, how powerful. But Papaya was right. It was just a door. A big one, sure, but it held no power or malevolence on its own.
Using his telekinesis to slide the log aside, he stepped up to the door. Pressed his hand to the wood. It was varnished, smooth and irregular beneath his fingertips. Stained so dark it looked almost black beside his white skin. He became aware that the laughter behind him had stopped, and he glanced over his shoulder.
Tien was sitting on the ground, his legs crossed and his right hand holding his left elbow so tight that his knuckles were white. Beneath the black mop of hair, his three eyes were wide and nervous. Papaya was standing silently, anxiously chewing on her lower lip, hands twisting in front of her.
“Were you the only student?” Chiaotzu asked, his eyes meeting Tien’s.
A wordless little shake of Tien’s head in response.
Other students. Other members of the Crane. Maybe more loyal to the creed of the school than Tien and Chiaotzu had been. Fear cramping in Chiaotzu’s gut, he turned and closed his eyes. Concentrated. Stretched out his mind. It was possible to suppress ki, to quiet one’s mind, to the point of being undetectable. But it was incredibly difficult, and Chiaotzu was by now skilled at seeking out those who were hiding.
The dojo was empty. Of people anyway. There were rats nesting in the former pantry and some birds nestled in the rafters. Small animals, seeking shelter. Not unlike how he felt.
“There’s no one here now,” he said, with a confidence that he didn’t quite feel, and pushed the door open with a decisive shove. The hinges let out a rusty, mournful shriek and Chiaotzu winced, cringing backwards. Behind him, Tien took in a sharp gasp of air.
“Come on, boys,” Papaya said. Voice clear and bright. No sign of the anxiety Chiaotzu had seen just a moment before. Her spine was ramrod straight, her chin held high, and when she strode past Chiaotzu and into the darkness of the dojo, she did not hesitate. “There’s no such thing as ghosts.”
Chiaotzu and Tien exchanged a glance. They were not so sure. There were bodies here, no doubt, lives that had ended too soon. And even if none of those spirits remained, it was hard to imagine that there was no trace of the malevolence that had lived here for so long. That the venom and hatred hadn’t seeped into the walls and stained the foundation.
“We’ll go together,” Chiaotzu said, holding out one hand. Tien smiled and grabbed it, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet. Keeping their hands tightly linked, they stepped through the door.
It was like stepping through a veil. Memories brushed against them like spider webs, years of pain and loneliness and betrayal. There was happiness here, for Chiaotzu at least, but it was minuscule in comparison.
The intensity of the feelings that stirred almost brought Chiaotzu to his knees, but the firm pressure of Tien’s hand around his, the sight of Papaya’s pink hair glimmering in the gloom ahead, the scent of air that was dusty but fresh and cold, kept him stable. Papaya stood at the end of the foyer, watching them walking inside, a soft smile on her face.
“I think there’s a lot of potential here,” she said. Chiaotzu’s stomach twisted as she pointed towards Shen’s quarters. The corridor that way was dark, and Chiaotzu wondered if he would be able to navigate it from memory. His feet finding the well worn stones until he came to the heavy door of Shen’s office. Papaya, pushing on despite the grimace on his face, continued brightly, “I see that whole area as…a big kitchen and dining area. Open up all those rooms into a big communal space for all of us.”
The idea of those rooms, the site of all that sadness and fear and rage, being repurposed not just into something useful, but something that brought Chiaotzu actual joy, made tears prickle in his eyes.
Without turning, Papaya continued, “You like cooking, don’t you Chiaotzu? You bought enough supplies from my little shop over the years.”
“You like cooking?” Tien asked.
Chiaotzu flushed and scuffed his feet. “It’s something I’ve been practising. It was hard in the cave: I only really had a fire to work with.”
“And some excellent cookware,” Papaya said with a wink. “Speaking of, I’d like to set up a little smithy towards the back, if that would be okay. I would like to keep up the metalwork. Maybe we can get dad up from Nutmeg Village on and off.” She hooked one hand onto Tien’s shoulder, jostled him slightly. “What about you? What sort of thing would you like?”
Tien’s face turned a vivid red. From his neck all the way to the tips of his ears. He ducked his head, letting his hair fall forward to shield his eyes, and started fiddling with the hem of his shirt. When he spoke, his voice was so soft and mumbled that the words were almost indistinguishable. Papaya crumpled her face, tilting her head to look at Chiaotzu. Knowing, perhaps, that he had no trouble understanding.
Instead of asking Tien to repeat himself, Chiaotzu clarified for him: “A garden? Are you sure? We could build anything. More training grounds, a pool, a library. Anything you want.”
The blush on Tien’s cheeks intensified to a bright beet colour. Chiaotzu thought he could feel the heat radiating across the room. “I like plants,” Tien said. Voice ever so slightly clearer. “It’s good practice. Caring for things.”
Chiaotzu smiled. Stepped forward and gently untangled Tien’s hand from his shirt before he could unpick the hem, holding it tight. “Did you have a garden here before?”
“Not a garden.” Tien wouldn’t meet Chiaotzu’s eyes, keeping his head bowed. “Shen wouldn’t let me have a proper one.”
“That sounds like you had something,” Papaya interjected. “Come on, Tien, show us the plants.”
Still blushing, still keeping his head down, Tien stepped out of the comforting circle of Papaya’s arm, pulling Chiaotzu by the hand towards the dormitories. He’d been moved, perhaps shortly after Chiaotzu’s exile, and led them to one of the formerly empty bedrooms. There were windows, but they were small and high in the wall. Not barred, necessarily, but made of small squares of thick glass squeezed tightly into solid metal grates. So different from the low and easily opened windows that Chiaotzu remembered. Clearly, Shen had not wanted to risk Tien bolting in the middle of the night.
Tien released Chiaotzu’s hand. Dropped to his knees, then his stomach. Wiggled under the bed. There was a long moment of silence. Papaya glanced at Chiaotzu, who responded with a smile and a finger over his lips. Reassured, she leaned back against the door jamb and waited.
Eventually, with the scrape of porcelain on stone, a small pot was pushed from the space beneath. It was cobbled together with the curved fragments of a shattered plate, glued together with a makeshift concrete the same red as the clay in the river below. The dirt inside was pale, dry and ashy, but the little cactus inside was still bright green and upright. Tien followed shortly after, pulling himself with his elbows until he was free.
“Wow, look at this,” Papaya said. She sat on the floor and tapped the tip of her finger on one of the spines framing the cactus. “That’s amazing, Tien, what a great job you did with that pot!”
“He’s alive still,” Tien said. Tears were glimmering in his eyes and he scrubbed viciously at his face with his fist. Chiaotzu caught a hold of his hand and gently pulled it away from his eyes. Tien glanced at him, almost accusatory, then softened when he saw that Chiaotzu also had tears streaking his cheeks.
No more hiding, Chiaotzu sent telepathically. Privately. Knowing Tien would not want Papaya to hear. There’s no shame in tears, Tien.
Tien nodded. Smiled widely through the tears spilling onto his cheeks. Squeezed Chiaotzu’s hand. His telepathic voice soft when he replied, Okay. No hiding.
“I’ll get you some water,” Chiaotzu said. He straightened, glanced towards the back wall, then frowned. Lifted his hands. Concentrated. The tiny windows glowed bright blue with his power. Creaked, groaned. Were pushed out through the wall with a dry crack. The resulting hole was wide, taking up most of the wall, and sunlight streamed in. Bathing them all with warmth. “There. That’s better.” He turned to Papaya. “We’re going to need big windows. Lots of big windows.”
“Noted.” She grinned and lifted her face towards the sun. “Ah yes that’s much better, don’t you think, Tien?”
Tien squinted as he turned towards the open wall, lifting his hand to shield his eyes. A chill breeze drifted into the room, raising goosebumps on all of their skin, bringing with it the sharp smell of pine and the dark smell of earth, but a slow smile broke over Tien’s face and the tension that had wound them up since he had entered the dojo released with a low sigh. Shoulders dropping. The long muscles in his thin limbs relaxing.
Chiaotzu left them for a moment. Formed a bucket of telekinetic energy and filled it from the well. The water was clear and pure. The sight of it made him consider that perhaps this could work after all. Maybe the land wasn’t poisoned. The cruelty that had lived here for so long hadn’t tainted the air, the water, the ground.
Maybe they could fix it.
When he returned to the room that had been Tien’s, Papaya and Tien were standing by the window. Tien scooped two palm fulls of water into the makeshift pot, then dug his index finger into the dirt. A relieved smile broke over his face and he scooped the plant up, hugged it tight to his chest, careful to avoid the wicked spikes.
“Thank you,” he said quietly. Meeting both Chiaotzu and Papaya’s eyes in turn. There was hope there, burning like a bonfire, and Chiaotzu was heartened seeing it.
The three of them stood in the sunlight and looked out over the pines. In the distance, Chiaotzu spied a flash of purple as InoShikaCho pranced between the trees, his head held high and yellowed tusks showing in a wide grin.
“Do you have a favourite food, Tien?” Chiaotzu asked. “I think it’s lunch time and I can probably rustle something up before we get started on remodelling.”
“I like dumplings,” Tien said in a soft, embarrassed little voice. “Do you think you could make pot stickers?”
Chiaotzu grinned. Looped his arm around Tien’s waist—he’d grown even taller over their journey and with Chiaotzu’s feet on the ground, Tien’s shoulders were well out of reach—and hugged him tight. “I think I can manage that.”
They left the dojo. Crowded together around a fire as Chiaotzu expertly crafted some delicious vegetarian dumplings from their food supplies. As the dumplings sizzled away in the frying pan, InoShikaCho nosed his way over and fell into a blissful sleep beside the fire. Clearly happy to be home. Certainly more relaxed now than he had been when Shen had lived here too.
And they would make it a home. The three of them would rebuild the Crane School into a place of security and safety. Kindness and compassion. They would welcome weary souls and give them a place to grow and recover. The way they had helped each other. The way they would continue to support each other.
And they would do it all together.