The Wolves in the Woods

Next Arc Teaser 2: No Such Thing As Coincidence

Even chance meetings are the result of karma... Things in life are fated by our previous lives. That even in the smallest events there's no such thing as coincidence.

— Haruki Murakami

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Idon receives a commission from an old friend.

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            Plates, silverware, and glasses clinked against the table courtesy of the hands holding them, mitigated somewhat by the strategically placed mats and napkins. Several figures scurried around animatedly. Chattering and catching up. Around the figures were two smaller beings helpfully carrying what their masters needed. Zipping to and fro through the air performing whatever task they had been assigned. One figure dressed head to toe in black filled the glasses with whatever drink was requested. And the two elder figures happily chatted while preparing today's lunch: a fusion of Chinese and Spanish cuisine perfectly suited for the people living there.

"How is the rice, Wayzz?" Master Fu asked. The Turtle Kwami turned, still holding the wooden spoon.

"All is going well, Master," Wayzz said. Mizzpah hovered over the other burner on the stove, stirring the sizzling beef in the wok with practiced ease. The aroma it emitted was heavenly. "The meat still needs to brown, but Mizzpah already has the vegetables ready." The White Cat Kwami placed the silicon spoon on the rest then hovered to the shakers nearby. Fu couldn't help the smile that adorned his face.

"Drinks are ready, abuela," Idon said, placing the pitcher in the middle of the table. "Ben's not back yet, though." Marianne chuckled.

"Is he making new friends again?" the retired Guardian asked. Idon sighed dramatically, emphasizing his emotions with hand movements. Though everyone present could tell he was just being dramatic.

"Are you certain you don't wish to become an actor?" Marianne joked. Idon rolled his eyes in jest.

"Come now, abuela, you and I both know this is the life for me," Idon fired back. His grandmother only giggled when he sighed theatrically. "Oh, I am untrusted by my own grandmother." He pretended to faint on the couch. "The utter agony." Marianne tapped her grandson's knee with her cane.

"That's fine and all, but we're still preparing lunch," she scolded, the playfulness in her voice undeniable. "Stop your theatrics and finish helping us." Idon sat straight up, the grin on his face stretching ear to ear.

"Sí, abuela," he conceded.

Fu regarded the scene before him with a smile before it gradually faded away. The atmosphere in this house was... something else. He hadn't felt such warmth in a long while since he himself became a Guardian, if he were to be curt. Yet he had to wonder: was he allowed to feel such warmth again? After so long? It had been over one hundred years since the fall of the temple in Tibet. A spectacle caused by him, no less. All he had wanted was a simple meal after being assigned that job by the elders. If he hadn't taken the Peacock and transformed...

"Is something the matter?" a voice beside him asked. Fu jumped, a tad startled. Then he sighed in relief when he realized it was just Idon.

"Nothing," the Guardian said. "I was merely lost in thought." The look on Idon's face gave away no emotions. Which, Fu had to admit, made it difficult to tell what the younger Guardian was thinking. Was this one of the reasons Marianne chose him as her successor?

Wordlessly, Idon sat down next to Fu. And wordlessly, he offered the older man a listening ear. Wayzz glanced over at his master. And he turned back around to finish his task of cooking the rice. It was an unspoken agreement that whatever Fu had said to them would never leave the room. Ever. For the words he spoke would have shredded the hearts of everyone who was listening.