FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

In retrospect, Wairu rarely ever had the desire to visit the temple and the Pool of Serenity. In his many years at the temple, he had been given the chance and the opportunity, but he never really wanted to. No matter how much he wanted to learn and advance, his idea was to grow through his actions, not meditation and peace. For that reason, he spent most of his youth in his home or training. Aside from that first time with Master Bouzhung, Wairu only entered the temple a few times each year until his adolescence.

Now, he was alone on the mountain overlooking the valley and the village below. The clouds were growing thick as the night wore on, blanketing the land and making it difficult to see the details of the settlement below. He stood up straight, fur and whiskers whipping in the never-ending wind. This high in the mountains, the air was thin and always moving; that was probably why they were known as the Whispering Cliffs.

Though he was happy to subside himself on meditation and relaxation, Wairu needed food. He had to chomp down on some of the pressed fruit that he had brought with him. He turned away from the openness of the valley to slip into the cave that accompanied his little grassy outcropping. After grabbing his pack, he sat back on the ledge of rock that was functioning as his bed as he grabbed a small paper bag.

One of the great delicacy items of the region was this pressed fruit strips. They would take the flesh of the fruit, and dry it out before squeezing it into strips about 10cm long and 5cm wide. It took up very little space, was packed with nutrients, and kept edible for weeks even out in open air. Perfect for anyone looking for a snack or monks on spiritual journeys. The same couldn't be done with vegetables, the flesh wasn't as malleable. Nor was it as tasty.

Wairu grabbed a yellow and red swirled strip and took a bite. It was banana and Strawberry. Not his favorite, but very good. He closed his eyes in the dimly lit cave to focus on the flavors, chewing as he rolled the pulp over his tongue. A single strip filled him happily, even though it didn't look like it would do much. In fact, a single strip, accompanied by a healthy serving of water, would sustain him for the entire duration of the day.

"Well, I guess it might be time to return to meditation." He said to himself before standing back up and walking the five steps to the end of the platform and sitting back down. There really wasn't much room on the plateau for him to sit or move. Just one tiny outcropping covered in a grassy surface, a cave at one end, and a steep, rocky cliff-face next to it leading down to the path that weaved through the mountains.

He could have immediately returned to his vision of the past, but instead he wanted to reflect more thoroughly on the first flashback he had. More importantly, he wanted to know what brought his mind to that part of his life, as well as how he could have possibly seen things that he himself did not see as a child. The memory was so vivid and clear, but it wasn't exactly a memory since his viewpoint kept changing.

Was it the spirits talking to him? Were his ancestors offering him knowledge that he could only access by listening to the whispers of the mountains? Was it just an hallucination due to the potent tea and incense mixed with the thin mountain air?

It didn't matter what the reason was. He saw what he saw, and that was what mattered. He saw his foolish behaviour as a cub, his impatient immaturity, and his disrespect. He had certainly grown in the years since that first sincere interaction with Master Bouzhung by the Pool of Serenity, but it didn't really sink in until years later just what he was saying.

Kids are impatient. Everyone knows that. It's not a secret the children have a hard time settling down and focusing on the task at hand, and Wairu was no different. He wasn't like other kids in many ways, but in regards to his ability to sit patiently in place, he was the same. In fact, that was one of his most damning traits and the prime source of his frustration.

While gifted in martial arts and wind bending, he got frustrated easily. Even though he was ahead of others that were older or had been training longer than he had been, he still grew irate when he couldn't figure out the proper moves or match the highest level monks in sparring matches. He was just so used to picking things up with ease, learning new moves and abilities with minimal work that when it came time to put in actual effort towards picking up a new skill, he completely lacked the patience.

As time went on, he did get better, learning better ways to vent his anger and frustration without causing damage or harming anyone, but that frustration never quite went away.

One time, when he was about ten years old, he was practicing wind deflections with a friend of his when he missed one of the discs and it hit him on the horn. He got angry and tried extra hard to get the next one with a gust of air, hoping to knock it so far away that it would get lost in the surrounding mountains, but he missed and knocked his friend off his feet, forcing him to land on his rump in a heap of practice discs. Rather than apologize, he demanded his friend keep helping him train.

Of course, his friend got angry and stormed off.

Another time, when he was thirteen, he got so angry that he punched at one of the pillars lining the valley, using all of his power of wind to aid the force of his strike. That pillar has had a spider-webbed crack ever since and Wairu never bothered to fix it, like he should have.

A question popped up in Wairu's mind as he slumped down, looking over the cliff. He wondered to himself if that was why he was sent here. Of course, he quickly dismissed that question because the answer was blunt and obvious. Of course he was sent here to learn the value of patience. He knew that before he left the village.

So, with that in mind, he quickly returned to his personal cavern for another bout of tea and incense.

He used his elemental magic to heat the mug, just like before. And, just like before, he stabbed the incense into the ground in front of him before sitting cross-legged in front of it. His eyes fluttered as he paused to focus on the sound of the howling wind. Just like the first time, he quickly found himself descending into a sort of dream-like state - a surreal blend of the real world and the hallucinations of his own semi-consciousness.

When his eyes opened up, he could see the valley strewn out behind him, but the mountains were wiggling like jelly, the clouds dissipating a little bit at a time. It was odd and he quickly found his eyes naturally focusing on the village below. There, he could see Zephyrue looking directly up at him.

He flailed, his motions causing him to fall off the side of the cliff; only, rather than fall to the rocky mountains below, he hovered in the air, eventually being tossed up in a ball of cotton-like cloud and smothered to the point where everything went dark.

===============================================

By the time his eyes opened up again, he was back at his own personal hut in the valley. There, he quickly shot up, throwing his sheets off his chest. He heaved his chest in and out, breathing heavily as he patted himself down. Something was wrong. As he looked down over his body, he could see that he was no longer the adult he was back at the cliff, but an adolescent.

It was another vision of a memory, only this time he felt like he had a bit more control, only he felt compelled to do certain things. Wisps of thought entered his mind, guiding him. Rather than mess with it, he went along with his urges and allowed is instincts to guide him. It was like letting the wind fill one's sails rather than paddling.

Before he could get out of bed, there was an excited knocking at the door.

"Hey kitty! Time to get up!" It was Zephyr, waking him up to prepare him for the semifinals of the tournament. Yes, Wairu remembered this day well, a memory that even he couldn't have forgotten.

He groaned and rolled to his feet, head resting in his palms. "You can come in." He mumbled.

"Are ya decent?" She asked as she slid the door open just enough to peek a single eye inside.

"Nope. You better come in anyway, though!" He was joking with her, but it was true. Even when naked, he was still modest. His race - same as Zephyr's - remained modest unless doing their business. It was a sort of in-joke between the two of them; he also used it to flirt a bit with her.

She slid the door open fully and hopped into his quarters, sidling up next to him on the bed, nuzzling up under his cheek. "Are you ready?"

There was a slight pause as he puffed out his chest to look bold and intimidating. "Of course! I'm always ready! Gonna kick some tail!" He balled up a fist and used it to blast a cool chilly air around the room, showcasing his skills.

"I know you will! You're my own kitty fighting beast! None of the other boys stand a chance against you!" She gave his chest a playful pat before getting back to her feet, the gem on her forehead and shoulders glowing in unison with her heart beats. "Now get up. They are already up on the plateau, preparing the tournament for the young monks. Get something to eat and meet me at the base of the thousand steps." She leaned in to rub her nose playfully against his before getting up to leave him alone.

Wairu blinked the crusties from his eye and got to his feet, stretching out and yawning. It was still early, but the monks of the Temple of Whispering Spirits often rose with the sun, and he was expected to do the same. In fact, he was quite shocked that Zephyr actually woke before him early enough that she could trek up the mountains from her home in the village before he was awake.

When he walked out into the cool morning air, he got a glimpse of sunlight reflecting off the dew of one of the white lotus flowers outside of his little hut. While distracted, Zephyr hopped out from behind a bush to pounce on him, biting at his neck playfully. If it were anyone else, he'd have flipped her over his shoulders and stomped on them, but Zephyr was always playful, so he played along.

"No! I have been caught!" He made exaggerated hand motions, pretending to fight her off until he fell onto his belly with her on his back.

"Kittykittykitty!" She mumbled into his cheek as she nibbled. After a moment, she stood up, leaving a moist spot under his chin. "Alright, time to get up for real this time. Let's go, bum." She poked at him with her toe before walking away.

Wairu dusted himself off and hopped to his feet, darting forward until he caught up. The both of them walked up the steps alongside dozens of others that were heading to the tournament. They avoided the crowd to go near the prime temple, where the Pool of Serenity was housed. At the time, Wairu didn't think twice about it. However, the adult Wairu who was looking back through his own eyes was nearly begging him to stop there, having remembered what happened at the tournament.

To adult Wairu's surprise, adolescent Wairu stopped for a moment to stare in awe at the tall spires on either side of the gate.

"Is everything alright?" Zephyr asked, grabbing his hand as he lagged behind her. One of her ears perked up and she trilled a bit, acting cute.

Wairu shook his head free of the thoughts of the temple and quickly returned to her. "Yeah, I'm fine. I was just thinking about Master Bouzhung and the Pool of Serenity." He shrugged it off, and they kept walking up the steps, discussing the tournament they were heading towards and the implications of training that were involved. In fact, the winner would automatically advance to the next level towards true monkshood.

Problem was, that wasn't how Wairu remembered that. When he was young, he never paused to think about the temple or the pool, he thought only of impressing Zephyr and winning the tournament. That was all that mattered to him when he was in his teenage years. Clearly, his modern thoughts and reflections were somehow impacting the memory, but he didn't want to interfere with the purity of history, so he opted to watch himself without letting his emotions guide his reflections.

"This is round three of the tournament, which means I've bested at least twelve others, and only three remain! All I have to do is beat Jurmin, then the winner between Hajer and Alzour! I've already beaten both Alzour and Hajer in previous sparring matches, so I know I can win this tournament!" He declared as they ascended the thousand steps to the combat plateau. There were also other families and spectators walking up the steps with them, some above and some below.

"I know. I've been watching the tournament all week. You don't need to tell me." She groaned. "Why do you have to boast all the time?"

Wairu stopped in his tracks as he found himself unsure how to answer such a query. "I-I'm not boasting, I am proud of my skills, is all. I was hoping you would be, too!"

"I am proud of your skills, Wairu. And you should be, too. Pretty sure humility is a key element in the quest to be a monk, though. I don't hear Master Bouzhung bragging about his victories over the Kelian tribe, do you?"

"No, of course n-"

"Or when he single hoofed fought the dragon of the Hueron Valley."

"Well, n-"

"Or when he held off the monkey ninja hit squad that threatened the village."

"Okay, I get it. I'm sorry Zeph, I just, I'm proud of what I do and until I ascend to the level of Monk, nobody will chant my name or praise my accomplishments, yet I've mastered the wind younger than anyone in this temple. I've fought and won in sparring matches against opponents three levels above and five years my senior. Yet who is going to praise me? I know you do, but I don't have parents to boast my skill to the other mothers of the village." He stopped as soon as he said that, knowing it might have upset her.

"I don't either, Wairu. I don't need approval from others to know that I have skills. The only person you should be competing with is yourself. How much better can YOU be. It's not about how much better than everyone else you can be. At least in life. In the tournament, kick some tail." She gave him a peck on the cheek and bounded away, now that they were at the top of the stairs, and the tournament area was laying out in front of them.

She disappeared into the crowd that had been forming while Wairu kept a steady eye on her swaying hips, and her spine down to the tip of her tail. Eventually, he lost sight of her and edged himself towards the group with the families that were prepping their sons and daughters for the tournament. There, he met up with Bouzhung - his substitute father figure.

"Good to see you finally arrived, Wairu." Bouzhung observed. "I see your journey to serenity let you sleep in, eh?" He wagged his cane tip towards the young ha'dareash.

"You have taught me well, master. I was so at peace with my own zen that I worried not for my punctuality, for time is eternal and live is as I decide it to be. Right?" He gave a respectful bow alongside his witty retort.

Rather than laugh or offer a counter response, the hoofed master conked Wairu on the head between his horns. "Don't sass me, boy. This is a serious matter. These fighters are two and three years older than you, and Hajier is a master of the demon's step, so if you end up fighting her she will be very unpredictable. Don't underestimate them."

"What do you mean, don't sass you? You made the joke first." Wairu complained, holding his hands over his head for protection.

"I sass because I care, young apprentice. As Master, I sass first and I sass last, you understand?" He nodded, eyes locked to Wairu's.

"Yes master."

The two of them took a moment to make sure Wairu had some fruit in his belly as the rest of the spectators from the village piled up on the stadium seats that lined either side of the platform on the east and west ends. The north end had the high wall with the ornamental archway atop the thousand steps, and the opposite end had the special shrines for the judges to observe. The entire plateau was lined with short, red fences comprised of hundreds of tiny archways. It was ornamental while also being functional.

After a few hours, when the sun was high in the sky and the shadows disappeared into themselves - a fancy way to say it was midday, noon - Master Bouzhung stepped forth onto the podium to address the spectators and kickstart the semifinals of the tournament, but Wairu was too busy scanning the crowd to find Zephyr.

He did catch bits about pride and growth and the value of self improvement, but his mind was focusing elsewhere. Eventually, he found her sitting in the second row on the west bleachers, waving at him. Once he saw this, he bashfully waved back. The two shared a moment hand-signaling messages to each other about fighting and winning the tournament, but were cut off when one of the monks smacked Wairu in the rump with his cane.

"Hey, what's that all about?" Wairu grumbled.

"They're waiting for you." The monk informed him, then pointed his staff up to Bouhung.

Master Bouzhung did not look impressed. He was staring down at Wairu, his eyes darting back and forth between the apprentice and one of the four podiums in front of the main podium. As he looked up, he saw Jurmin the monkey fighter that he would be sparring with first up on the podium, having already been introduced.

Embarrassed by his lack of situational awareness, he hopped forward to the podium and raised a paw to wave to the crowd.

"And here we have young Wairu, the youngest combatant to enter the ascension tournament here at the Temple of the Whispering Spirits at only twelve years old!" Bouzhung introduced him. "A Master of wind and the ki-vega arts, he has won his previous two matches in near unanimous decision by the judges!"

The crowd went wild for him as he waved, happy to show off his skills. To him, this was exactly the kind of roaring approval he longed for. Despite the rapturous adoration, he still found his eyes were edging towards Zephyr, catching her gaze time and time again. He nodded in her direction, trying to look cool for her before Jurmin made a lewd comment.

"When I beat you, I'm going to take your little girlfriend back to my Hut and show her what a real warrior looks like." The monkey mocked him.

Normally, Wairu would have lashed out at him in anger, but he was in front of literally hundreds of villagers who were all enjoying the festivities. He had no interest in causing an unsanctioned fight. Instead, he shrugged. "If you say so, Jurmin. I mean, you're not going to beat me, and if you did I doubt she'd let a filthy beast like you touch her. I'm sure she could kick your tail just as well as I could."

"Cocky little bastard, aren't you? Is that why your mommy ran off?" He laughed to himself as he stood tall on the podium, listening to Hajier and Alzour get introduced as well.

Wairu's expression hardened, his eyes glazing over as one twitched. Jurmin crossed a line, and the best way to get back at him was through beating the chi from his body. His heart began racing and the adrenaline was slowly starting to flow through his body, cooling his hot blood.

"Aww, look at the cub, getting all angry." Jurmin continued to mock.

Rather than respond, Wairu put on a fake smile and waved to Zephyr, nodding gently. In response, her eyes went blank. She knew that expression and what it meant. A look of worry consumed her visage, only to have Wairu shake his head, assuring her that it would be fine, even though the adult Wairu in his head was screaming to say something and to not let it get to him. He seemed to recall that when this went down, he argued more with Jurmin more, but mature Wairu's thoughts seemed to calm the adolescent version of himself.

He had to bide his time, sitting cross-legged on the podium as the first round of the semifinals began, pitting Hajier - the demon's step master panda - against Alzour - the more traditional Ki-Vega tigress fighter.

The first round of that fight was five minutes of the two of them circling each other, with Alzour keeping her head high and paws up, ready to fight while Hajier danced and flipped around. The two barely came into contact with one another aside from a few punches, kicks, and tail-swipes. The chubby Hajier surprisingly nimble for her size.

After the first round finished and the whistle was blown, both fighters took a few minutes to relax, drink some water, and get advice from their friends/family before going back. It was an odd ritual, more akin to glory fighters and mercenaries in arenas, but it worked and kept things entertaining while the crowd waited for them to get back into fighting.

During their first round and the break that followed, Jurmin could be heard talking to his friends, idly glancing over to Zephyr while pointing and laughing. Wairu did all he could to ignore it, crossing his legs in a state of meditation as he remained alone on the podium, focusing his mind on the fight before him.

Hajier and Alzour went into their second round, then their third and fourth and fifth. Each round got progressively competitive, with Alzour growing more aggressive and Hajier getting even more tricky to hit. Eventually, in the sixth round, the dancing panda got a series of impressive hits, eventually winning by judges decision.

That was how these fights worked, by a point system. Knock Downs garnered three points, direct hits got one each, and a successful hold received two points for every five seconds they were locked in for a total of one minute if they didn't tap out before then. Each of the three judges counted together, one for strikes, one for holds, and one for takedowns. At the end of each round, the judges would come together and add up their scores. It was civil.

At the end of the sixth round, they announced Hajier the winner by a point lead of over 100. That didn't surprise Wairu at all, since Hajier was a formidable fighter as well as an accomplished Zen artist.

The young ha'dareash got a smirk pulling at the side of his face as the arena cleared for his fight. His patience had run thin with his cocky, rude opponent, so he didn't even wait to be called up to the stand to take his place beside the ring. On the way, he blew a kiss to Zephyr, who gasped in shock. She looked like she was about to dive over the crowd to get at him, but it wasn't for the flirty affection, it was because she saw something in her eyes that she feared.

Wairu's irises were usually a golden yellow, but when he got angry they darkened into orange, then a deep blood red. The last time Zephyr had seen those eyes, Wairu had nearly punched a stone pillar in half. She knew he was about to do something violent, but given the nature of the tournament and the fact that it was a competition, she stayed back, assuming it would be fine. At least that's what she told him years later to explain why she didn't stop him.

He waved to her and nodded with eyes closed, assuring her it was fine. Mature Wairu screamed at himself to not let anger best him, but he knew nothing he said would change the past.

"Well, it looks like Wairu is a little excited, isn't he?" Bouzhung announced. "Our third fighter of the afternoon, Wairu is twelve years old and weighs in at ninety eight kilograms. His opponent, Jurmin, is fifteen and weighs in at one hundred and three kilograms..." His voice kind of trailed off as Wairu turned his attention back to Zephyr for a moment.

He offered only a brief sinister grin before turning to his opponent, red eyes glaring into Jurmin's very soul. He didn't blink, he didn't turn away, and he didn't move until one of the ring-keepers came to him to urge him to come to the middle of the fighting area in order to bow and touch fists.

"Alright you two, this is for the second slot in the finals against Hajier. Now, fight with respect and honor. Touch knuckles, then bow." The ref instructed.

Both fighters extended their bare fists to each other, touching. Jurmin - the taller of the two by a head - bowed in respect, but Wairu did not. Instead, he kept his gaze trained on his opponent.

"Come on, Wairu, no need to be disrespectful." Jurmin chastised.

"I respect those who earn it, Jurmin. You won't make it through the first round." Wairu warned.

That's when Jurmin noticed the red in Wairu's eyes. However, it was too late to say something because the ref whistled and separated them to their respective sides of the arena, Wairu walking backwards the whole time so that he could keep an eye on his opponent every step of the way.

"Apprentices, ready yourselves. Three. Two. One. Engage!" A whistle blew and the match was underway. Mature Wairu practically screamed at himself from across the years to not carry on, but at this point his past self was so ingrained in what happened next that even his own lucidity couldn't change the truth.

Jurmin kept his body low, paws out forward as he side-stepped into the middle of the ring, Wairu standing tall, not assuming any position for combat. He blinked, eyes still red in anger, a temporary opening meant to lure Jurmin into an attack.

Sure enough, the monkey fighter leapt forward to attack, only to have Wairu swish his hands around and aim them both up, forcing enough wind to knock Jurmin off balance mid pounce, leaving him to fall on top of Wairu.

He grabbed Jurmin's wrist in midair, flipping him over shoulder to slam him down on his back on the hard slate of the arena. With the opponent's wrist in his hand, he gripped tight and hyper-extended the elbow, driving a knee at Jurmin's ribs.

The monkey kicked up, then flipped over to release the torque on his wrist, only to get clocked in the face by Wairu's high kick, throwing him off balance. He tried to raise his hands in defense, but Wairu had already gained the upper hand, and that was the end of his offense.

Wairu flipped up after the high kick, spinning in midair to back-heel roundhouse at his rival's chest. He landed on all fours, pivoted on his one foot, then did a slashing uppercut, clawing at his opponent's bare, furless chest. He punched back and forth, offering elbows and backhands to Jurmin's face, using the hard scales of his forearm as a weapon. Jurmin tried to block and counter, but Wairu was too quick, constantly getting hit after hit in before leaning in, both palms hitting with a blunt impact on Jurmin's gut aided by enough wind power to make the monkey fly backwards and roll off the side of the stage.

A whistle blew, putting a temporary halt to the fight. When one fighter got a ring-out, the timer was paused and the two fighters were to return to the middle.

Jurmin coughed and got to his feet, shaking his head of the disorientation that Wairu had put in him before stumbling idly into the middle of the ring to meet. The whistle called again, restarting the match only one minute in. Jurmin crouched down and slithered, body swaying gently as Wairu descended on him. He swung right, only to have Wairu twist and duck under it. He swung left, only to have Wairu lean back and raise a single claw to manipulate the air around Jurmin, throwing him off balance.

Wairu dove forward and rolled, getting to his feet beside Jurmin, offering a spinning back-hand to the monkey's face, the momentum carrying him around to land another punch. Jurmin leaned in to grab, hoping to put a temporary stop to the barrage of hits that he was subjected to, but got a rising knee to the cheek as Wairu lifted up, grabbing him by the head for added leverage, making him stumble backwards.

He shook his head free of the grogginess, only to have Wairu get down on all four and leap at him, tackling him to the ground. Jurmin tried to turn it into a monkey flip, but Wairu rolled the both of them around until he was on top of him, hammering on his chest and face.

In a desperate act of defense, Jurmin bucked his hips and had his long, prehensile tail whip up between his legs to wrap around Wairu's neck, tugging him back and choking him backwards. He used the leverage to roll up and punch at Wairu's scaled chest. Unfortunately, it was thick scaled, which served almost as an armor.

"I told you, you won't last the first round." Wairu grunted as he strained against the coil of the monkey's tail. A moment later, an unfocused blast of wind erupted from Wairu's form in all directions, blowing dust and debris into Jurmin's eyes, making him squint and release his tail's hold.

Once the two had some separation, Wairu balled up both fists and toed his way forward, jabbing at Jurmin's face, his body a silken viper weaving back and forth between every movement that Jurmin fought back, unable to land a single blow. All he could do was push against Wairu, hoping for some separation between the two.

Wairu, however, cared only about beating his opponent to a tenderized pulp. He had made the mistake of making lewd, disrespectful comments towards Wairu's good friend, Zephyr, and that was not acceptable. Rather than pick a fight in the valley or down in the village, he would teach this brute some manners in a temple-endorsed sparring match.

"I guess this will make you think again about making rude comments, Jurmin." Wairu taunted as he hopped in, faking and dodging a few blows before a series of powerful uppercuts to Jurmin's chin and throat. The two grappled for a moment before Wairu jumped up and planted both of his feet square in the monkey's chest, knocking the two far away from each other so they were on opposite ends of the arena, but both still in the fighting ring on their backs.

Still nimble and alert, Wairu kicked himself from his back to his feet, ready to get back on the attack. On the other end of the arena, Jurmin was stumbling up to his feet, ready to get back as well.

Both combatants started running together, jumping up to attack each other in the middle. Jurmin was a monkey and able to leap three times his height, while Wairu used his air manipulation skills to leap and match him. Both met in the air, ready to grapple and toss. Wairu was faster, dipping under his opponents arms, grabbing and flipping Jurmin in midair and slamming him down directly in the middle of the arena, coming down with a knee in his chest.

With Wairu on top, he started swinging wildly, punching and backhanding and landing elbow hits to Jurmin's bloody face until the monkey fighter couldn't retaliate. A few moments later, he felt arms wrapped around him, pulling him off his opponent as a loud whistle rang in his ears. He won. The fight had been called! He raised his bloody fist high in the air, declaring his victory as he looked over at Zephyr.

She wasn't chanting, she wasn't cheering. She was staring in horror with her paws over her mouth, the same position everyone else was in, looking at the beaten mess of Jurmin.

Bouzhung was talking, saying something in the background, but everything had slowed and it sounded like an off-key bellow. Two of the refs and a group of monks were grabbing at Wairu, pulling him away from the middle of the ring, berating him.

"But, I won...." Wairu choked out, confused.

Bouzhung's voice was coming into focus just in time for Wairu to hear, "...disqualified for excessive use of force, Wairu will be eliminated from the tournament."

A powerful shot of anger surged through Wairu's body and he yanked himself away from the monks that were holding him so that he could protest. "What do you mean disqualified? I clearly beat him, as the better fighter!" He shouted.

Bouzhung paused his announcements to stare directly at Wairu, expression stern and angry as he shook his head slowly. "Therefore, advancing to the finals this weekend, is Jurmin." He said before turning to look away from his student.

In a rage, Wairu growled and stormed off, leaving Jurmin lying unconscious in the middle of the ring as the healers attended to him. He burst through the doors under the twin archways to disappear down the thousand steps. He won fair and square, handily beating that brute who was three years older than him and a head taller. Jurmin barely got a single hit on him, and he should have been going onto the finals, but instead was disqualified for being too good.

At least that's how he saw it.

In retrospect, it was clear that he turned a respectful sparring match into a brutish brawl, but that didn't mean the aggressive, adolescent version of himself understood that. All he saw was the indignity of losing a match he clearly won. Another example of his pure skill and ability being ignored and marginalized despite his superiority.

He won that match, and he got looks of fear, not admiration. He won the fight and yet lost his place in the tournament. He won the battle of defending Zephyr's honor, yet she seemed horrified. He did everything right in his mind, yet he was being treated as the villain!

Enraged, he stomped his way down the thousand steps into the valley, skipping over two or three at a time as he growled and roared to himself, eyes still red from anger.

He passed a few others - most were up at the arena to watch the sparring tournament - and he pushed them out of the way as he kicked at rocks, punched pillars, and roared at the sky. He was infuriated that anyone would disqualify him from combat under such stupid reasoning. As he gnashed his teeth, he mumbled under his breath, "Isn't the POINT of FIGHTING someone to BEAT them?!" His growl raised into a hiss as he kept at a brisk pace through the valley, ignoring anyone who came near.

Wairu's tantrum continued until he unleashed all his power in a single punch against one of the pillars near his home. His wind skill mixed with his own natural strength and technique gave him the ultimate force, cracking a visible line around the circumference of the pillar, a few chips bursting out from the impact point.

"GRAH!" he growled to himself shaking his hand. He had hurt his wrist and knuckles punching at the stone. The physical sensation traveled through space and time, letting the grown Wairu feel the same pain and anger. For a brief moment, he was as upset as his teen-aged counterpart, equally absorbed in the fury that had entombed him as a child. Reliving the memory triggered a sort of empathy, where he could feel all the raw emotion that he felt back when it was fresh, despite the maturity he had gained in the years since.

Teen-aged Wairu was pacing back and forth in front of his own personal hut, waiting - no, taunting - someone to make the mistake of apprehending him. He was ready to flip out on anyone who touched him and told him to calm down. A speech was brewing in his mind that he was going over repeatedly, ready to give Bouzhung a piece of his mind.

Deep down inside, he hoped that his master followed him into the valley, so he'd have an excuse to get into a fight. Right then, he wanted to punch that foolish old goat in the face and show him what true power was for daring to cut him from the glory he had earned.

While still pacing, he felt a hand on his shoulder, followed by a soft voice. "W-Wairu, I-"

Unfortunately, his rage was still controlling him, and he lashed out with his armored forearm plates to swing at the fool who dared interrupt his fury. He connected with their head, knocking them back a few meters into the dirt and grass next to the pillar. It wasn't until he turned to glare at the fool who touched him, chest heaving with every angry breath, that he saw it was Zephyr.

Not Bouzhung or one of the monks, but his best friend.

The realization slowly descended on his mind, taming him as the two locked eyes. He had made a gravely mistake, and his rage was slowly replaced with remorse, regret, and shame.

Zephyr looked up to him, her face remaining firm as she tried not to break down, jaw locked and eyes burning a hole in Wairu's chakra. The two stared for what felt like an eternity, with neither willing to move for fear of what the other might do.

Until Wairu sniffled and had to wipe a single tear from his cheek. He couldn't believe what he had done, and he had no way of possibly repenting for such a heinous act against the one person in the valley he knew cared about him more than anyone else. The emotional whiplash broke him, and he fell down to his knees, cradling his face in his palms, sobbing uncontrollably. "I'm so sorry.." he blubbered.

A second later, he felt her arms wrapped around him, her snout buried up under his cheek, holding him as tight as she could have.

===============================================

That's when Wairu snapped out of his trance with a stuttering inhalation. The emotional barrage had impacted him nearly as badly as it had his younger self, and he had to gulp back a wad of tears in his throat, the fur around his eyes moist with them. He wiped his snout off on his wrist and took in a few long, deep breaths to regain his composure.

"Get a hold of yourself, Wairu." He said to himself as he gulped again. What a powerful emotion he felt, totally taking over his body. Eventually, he had to remind himself, "She was fine. She was fine."

And it was true. She was fine after that. Though she wasn't training to be a monk, she was one hardy young woman, and knew how to take a hit. She was a warrior in training, same as he was. She was, of course, shocked that he would strike her, but she was also shocked that he would do such a thing to Jurmin. Zephyr knew that Wairu had a temper, but she had never truly seen it manifest and had never, ever been on the receiving end of it.

Had anyone else struck her like Wairu had, she would have ripped their jaw off. Luckily, she knew that Wairu would never do such a thing, at least not on purpose. As they stayed there together next to his hut, he apologized and promised to never do that again, then apologized again and again. His remorse was palpable through the tears he shed and the weak, limp form he melted into as she rocked him back and forth.

As it turned out, she kind of figured that, if he was so angry, he would likely not take well to someone apprehending him like that so she expected him to lash out. That's why she didn't run off or leave him.

They actually grew closer after that day. Once the emotion died down, Wairu worked up the courage to explain to her WHY he was so brutal to Jurmin. When she found out he was defending her honor, she was flabbergasted and swelling with pride. Of course she joked that she didn't appreciate violence in her name, but felt his rebellion was sweet.

However, their little moment of bliss and reconciliation lasted only a few minutes before Bouzhung approached them and scolded Wairu thoroughly, forcing him to clean the temple. Alone. Every day for a month. In a way, Wairu felt he got off easy, and also made it a personal goal to apologize to Jurmin, especially since he was so battered he couldn't compete, and Hajier won the tournament by default.

Wairu wasn't sure what the point was in reliving that memory other than to make him feel bad about how violent he was as a child, but the emotional impact had an effect on him, that was for sure.

He snuffed out the incense and laid back in the grass, looking up at the blue sky as the wind howled beneath and around him, the whistles and howls spurring on his imagination. The cliffs were whispering, and now more than ever he could listen.