Beware Of Chicken

Yin sat on the top of the house, her body soaking in the rays of the sun.

She took a deep breath, then let it out, calming the restlessness that was inside her as the preparations for departure went on all around her.

She breathed in, then out.

… why did she have to be so damn nervous about this? It was just a bit of lightning! Wa Shi had struck her over a thousand times by her own request! She could handle it.

But the thing that made her hesitate was her own doubts. She would endure the tribulation, that wasn’t the problem… it was whether going through that tribulation would fix anything. If being human would help her find her passion. It was the beginning of a reinvention of herself—but she still had no clue what she should do after.

Yin sighed and opened her eyes. Maybe… maybe she should take Tigu’s advice and talk to people about it?

Yin noticed Master Jin was sitting on his porch with his feet in the river, idly strumming his ‘ban jo’. Yin licked her lips and descended from the roof, landing beside the big human. He always felt nice, warm, and safe. Master Jin turned to her as she settled in beside him.

“Hey, Yin. What's up?” he asked, noticing her strange mood.

Yin was never really good at beating around the bush, so she just… told him.

‘I’m unhappy with myself,’ Yin stated.

By all accounts, she should be entirely content. She led a charmed life now. She never went hungry, she had friends, and she got to do whatever she wanted.

But… she had no purpose. No demon to hunt down for justice, no foes to defend against, no orders to follow. It seemed… meaningless, compared to her existence before. Oh, she enjoyed what she was doing, a lot of the time. She loved the flowers in the glass house and helping her Shifu, but the drive was gone. And even at her happiest, there was still some hollow feeling in her chest.

Master Jin set his ban jo aside and turned to her, giving her his full attention. “I see. Can you tell me more?” he asked, his eyes soft.

So she explained her problem. Her lack of passion. Her restlessness. Her lack of specialty, so unlike everybody else’s natural… expertise.

Tigu’s sculptures. Shifu’s pottery and glass. Wa Shi’s food. Ri Zu’s medicine. All of these were acts of passion and purpose. Even Chun Ke, who on the surface appeared to be the least driven of them all, moved with a purpose and surety that put all others to shame.

Yin? …Yin had nothing.

She didn’t know when she had moved to Master Jin’s lap, and she didn’t know when he started weaving his fingers through her fur.

“Let me let you in on a secret,” Master Jin said after she had finished relaying to him her woes. “I know what you’re going through. The restlessness. The aimlessness. I had no idea who or what I wanted to be in life—if I was going to be any good at anything at all. It’s like… you’re sick, in a way. You feel empty, even when you should be happy. You go through the motions, but meanwhile, nothing changes.”

Yin paused and turned to look up at Master Jin. She almost didn’t believe him for a second. He always seemed so calm, and… like the others. So passionate. But she saw it. She heard the pained wistfulness in his voice.

Even Master Jin… he had once suffered as she did now?

“Some people know their purpose from the moment they see something. They’re the driven doctors, the brilliant fighters, the leaders of men. People like us… we have to find our purpose. Sometimes it takes a lot of looking. Sometimes, you won’t be able to find it close to home. Sometimes it's not even a job, or the completion of something, but the journey itself. I don’t know which one will help you—but I do know that whatever path you choose, I’ll be there for you. We all will.”

She normally called him Master Jin simply out of respect. He had taken them in; he had given Yin and Shifu everything and returned to her Master his bright, beautiful spark.

But that day, she had called him Master, and meant it.

The others, too, had listened to her and spoken of how they had found what they loved to do.

“I have never truly considered anything else,” Bi De mused. “To defend my home is my life’s calling. But thinking upon it further… I suppose I do enjoy making woodblock prints, and telling stories. The soul needs more than warfare and getting stronger, I think.”

“It just sort of crept up on me. It started with little doodles of buildings… and then later, I found out that I really liked it. Making things like buildings that people can use to make their lives better. It wasn’t until years later until it finally… clicked,” Gou Ren had told her, commiserating with her. “If it takes a while, it takes a while. There's no need to think less of yourself.”

‘It was a way to deal with fear and grief, before I learned to love it,’ Pi Pa had said over tea. ‘I craved control, because back then I had none, and my Dear suffered for it. But now… now there is joy, in tending to my friends and family—even those who go out of their way to vex me.’

‘Passion doesn’t need to be one thing,’ Chun Ke had oinked. ‘Passion can be many things, it can change, and that is okay. What matters is that Yin likes it.’

“I used to reject it. I had to reject it. It was not proper for me to prefer to dance, rather than learn to use the sword. I spent years denying it, and I think… hurting myself in the process,” Xiulan said.

‘Do not think too hard upon it. Do not force yourself to love something. It will come, or it will not. Open yourself to all things as you have, and you will surely find your path.’ Bei Be spoke the most words she had ever heard the ox say in one sitting, gazing at a small cut the Old Man had made in a tree.

Then he went back to chewing his cud placidly.

It had been warm. So warm, like the sun blazing in the sky so high above. They had spoken with honest consideration and concern, as Tigu said they would.

And then, finally… finally, she went to speak with her Master.

‘Yin, my bright little star,’ Master had whispered, his voice thick with emotion. ‘There is no need to be ashamed of this.’

‘I don’t like it though,’ Yin murmured, shame in her voice, ‘You’re all so happy. I would be happy too, but… I miss the days when I knew what I was.’

‘You never were that weapon, Yin. This old fool broke you, and made you into something that you weren’t,” Shifu said, retreading their argument.

‘You saved me. And if things repeated themselves, I would not have anything different,” Yin said to him. ‘I would always want to be with you.’

Shifu… Shifu was her first good memory. The fractured bits and pieces from before he found her still sometimes resurfaced. Pain, terror, cold and darkness. Disdain, from a thousand different sources. Shifu had been the first person to care. Even when he was at his most maddened and bloodthirsty… he was still kinder to her than the best treatment she had received from the other place.

The snake’s one good eye watered before he looked away. ‘Then... your Shifu has an order for you, Liang Yin.’

Yin immediately straightened up. ‘Yes! Shifu!’

The snake turned back to her. ‘Your Shifu commands you—go out into the world, without this old snake. Find your spark… and bring it home. Not just to me, but to all of us, so that we may know what brings our beloved Yin joy.’

Yin smiled and leaned into Shifu’s embrace. When she opened her eyes again, they were set and ready.

She had her orders, her likely last order, from her Shifu. And she would carry it out. It didn’t matter what she found or where she found it. She would return and show everybody the thing that made her shine like the rest of them.

And to do that… well. It was easier to get around with a human form. Tigu had proved that.

She rose with the dawn—and delved into a world made of gold.

The place was unfamiliar, yet familiar. Like she had been here many times before. The grass smelled familiar, and the entire place had… a safe feeling. Like she was with an old friend.

The next thing she noticed, besides the feeling, was the noise. A series of muffled curses accompanied a squealing, twanging—it sounded exactly like the Healing Sage’s first attempts to play Master Jin’s ban jo.

‘Hello?’ Yin asked, as she looked towards the center of the field where a young-looking girl was sitting on a rock. The ban jo ceased its appalling noises as the little girl froze… and then red flushed through her cheeks.

The young girl coughed and stood, the ban jo disappearing into nothingness.

“Oh? Hello, Yin.”

Yin blinked at the familiarity and affection in the voice. Well, she was friendly! That was good.

‘Hello! Liang Yin pays her respects to the Earth Spirit, and Begs her assistance!’

The Earth Spirit looked amused. “I see. Well, I knew that this would be coming soon—really, there was a lot I had to figure out for this to work properly! Even if I don’t really know how I know some of this stuff…” The words were said with a whisper that Yin thought she wasn’t really supposed to hear.The Earth Spirit puffed up again. “Be grateful for Big Sister Tianlan’s work!”

‘Yes! Yin is Grateful to Big Sister Tianlan! So, you just zap me with lightning, right?’ Yin asked, excited.

“...You certainly don't’ waste any time, do you?” the Spirit asked after a stunned pause.

‘One must seize the day!’” Yin replied, her back straight like a soldier.

The Earth Spirit chuckled, before sighing and shaking her head. “That… won’t work on you, Yin,” she sighed. “Or rather, that method can’t work on you.”

Yin froze at the statement.

“What, am I not strong enough yet?” Yin asked, almost desperately. “Tigu was at the same level I am now when she transformed! I can do it! No matter how much it hurts! No matter how painful it is, I’ll overcome it!’

But the Earth Spirit just shook her head. “It's not if you can take it or not. Tigu is of the earth. You aren’t, bright little star.”

The words were a punch to her chest. Yin recoiled. The world became grey and brittle. “Ah… so.. You can’t help me? Because I’m from… there?”

“I said that method won’t work.” The Earth Spirit said, her voice firm. “But I do know how you can transform. The first thing you need is a piece of your home.”

Yin looked at the ground. At first she was about to be outraged. A piece of the moon?! She needed a piece of the moon to transform? Where the hells would she even find that?

“That place isn’t my home,” Yin bit out reflexively.

“I know. I said your home, not the place that you were born.” She was smirking. The Earth Spirit was smirking.

Yin paused at the spirit’s words, Her home was—Yin pouted. ‘… Tigu was right. You’re kind of a shit.’

The Earth Spirit laughed, her smile bright and cheery, before her face turned serious.

“On the south hill, there is a stone. For a thousand thousand years, it has taken in the light of the sun; not once has it known the darkness of the depths. I have known it since I was not myself, that stone, undaunted by the rain or the snow or the ice, it has stood the test of time. It has within its core a fragment of fire that was not wholly consumed by my breaking. It is old and weary, but it still burns. Take a piece. Weave it with glass, fire, and gold… and then, rise again on the next day, in the form you take.”

The words resonated and reverberated through the enclosed space like an ancient spell, imprinting themselves into Yin’s mind.

“Thank you,” Yin whispered.

“The rest is up to you now, little star.”

The stone was a simple, unassuming thing. It looked like any other rock. It was an old, craggy piece of granite, resting on the hilltop. But Yin knew this was the one.

With the techniques Huo Ten taught her, she carefully removed a piece of the stone. Then, she went to her Master’s forge and ignited it with her Qi.

From there, things went hazy. For the entire day, she worked that piece of stone, drifting as if in a dream. She inlaid it with the fruits of her Master’s labours, and with the bounty of the earth.

It was hot, hard work. Even in her trance she could feel the heat, as her Qi swirled around that little piece of stone from her new home, drawing the fire and the light of the sun from it.

When the blaze of light erupted from the forge, burning and purifying, part of her rebelled against it. The voice within her screamed that this was wrong, that this was the opposite of what she was supposed to be doing.

Yin didn’t care.

She filled herself with the warm sun, driving away the last dregs of cold darkness that had rested in her bones since she could remember it.

Delicate fingers gripped the talisman around her neck, and Yin stood, rising up, and up, and up, utterly dwarfing her previous form.

She staggered to the burnished bronze disk they used as a mirror, and looked at her reflection.

Long, silver hair. A noble, regal face, the kind in paintings of demure women. Two small, almost circular eyebrows.

And the mark of the sun on her forehead, fading into invisibility even as she watched.

Yin grinned, and in a perfect melodious voice suited for poetry and whispered words, there was a jubilant shout.

“Fuck yeah!”