Dragon to dragon communication

In a pristine pink room, shelves littered with miniatures painstakingly painted to perfection lie proudly, not a single speck of dust on them or any signs of damage and age. Armies and armies of miniatures that never saw the light of battle but are still well taken care of.

A bookshelf holds multitudes of books, from mangas to philosophy and biology books to toxicology books that shouldn’t be on a teenager’s bookshelf.

In an isolated corner of the room lie a few big cushions colored red, pink, and white intended to be used as chairs. A TV on the wall, with furniture holding multiple consoles and controllers below it. The controllers vary in their state, some as good as new, others chewed and beaten.

The floor is covered by a bluish mat with several Buddhist symbols on it, covering almost the whole floor. Then comes the bed. At its base, many plushies and toys are scattered in random places, and the bed is not any better. A thick pink duvet with plushies and children’s toys covers almost every corner of the bed.

Under the duvet lies a wide-awake Orochi, lying belly down on her bed, holding her cell phone and staring at it intensely. The digital clock shows it is 5:30 a.m. Purple orbs stare at the digital clock in hopes it will recede and go back to the previous day.

Orochi’s fingers go up and down on the list of apps installed on the cell phone. She continues this back and forth, not feeling like playing anything. Hydra heads coil their bodies around her legs and waist, but she ignores them.

Purple bags under her eyes quickly disappear the moment they appear. The young her tired complexion is the only sign of how tired she feels, regeneration erasing any other signs of biological changes that reflect fatigue.

Hydra heads slide in their sleep, the right one hissing, the middle one purring, and the left one not deciding if it is like a cat or a dog, meowing and barking depending on what is happening in its dreams.

Orochi sighs tiredly, envying her tails for several hours now. "I couldn’t sleep a bit, but you guys can. Well, sleep well. You three need it more than me." She may not care much about them, but she doesn’t want to see the little goof guys dead inside like they have been lately.

The young woman returns to stare at the cell phone, frowning as she does so. Her fingers scroll up and down impatiently. "What should I do?" The hydra girl hisses between her teeth.

Deep down she knows that the cell phone doesn’t hold what she wants to see, nor will it help kill time, yet she can’t bring herself to get off the bed now. Orochi’s limb feels heavy, not because of her hydra heads’ antics, but because of the coziness she feels.

Orochi feels her muscles warm and relaxed, locking them in place and dooming her for a night without sleep as she overthinks tomorrow—today. She thinks and analyzes what happened in her spar with Bobby.

Over and over again, to recall the feelings rushing in her blood in that fight. She can’t point to where the feelings started, only that warmth took over her body and mind at that moment when all pieces of the puzzle in her mind fell into place.

Now Orochi feels like a few pieces went missing, but the puzzle is not as messy as it was before. “I know what I should fight for… am I seeking validation?” The hydra girl whispers, her face hitting the pillow while she places the cell phone on the pillow’s side.

Bobby helped her. She is grateful for that. However, Orochi feels like it isn’t enough. Not enough to change the coming tides. It is not enough for her to become stronger and cross the gap in skill between her… and that monster.

Orochi shifts her position, lying sideways, picking up the cell phone again to check the hours. 6:00 a.m.

“Papa must be up by now. Maybe he is in the gardens…” With a vacant face, she stares at the wall. Her father always spoke about how ideals can affect your fighting style and what determines your strength is how much heart you put into each punch and attack.

She thought of his definitions as deliberate and arbitrary. Maybe she never understood what he meant. Eastern and Western martial arts are different, after all. "Both are a lifestyle if you go to their deeper end, but people like to say Eastern arts are more about philosophy than bringing down your enemies."

This is what she thought about the topic. It was asinine and untrue. For Orochi, martial arts were tools to become stronger, like a dance you learn. Many styles for different music, cultures, and tunes exist, yet they are all dances at the end of the day.

"I think I made a mistake thinking like that. I will check with the father. He always has the answer for this type of stuff." Even if Orochi can’t understand it, he always has an answer on the tip of his tongue.

(Scene break)

Orochi’s hydra heads yawned with discontent and anger, bothered because she raised off the bed to start her day early. The Atsushi state is huge and hard to explore on a good day. "Father, I hope you are in the gardens, I don’t want to explore the estate to find you."

The hydra girl pouts in annoyance, a mix of tiredness and energy sparking through her body. It is discomforting, making Orochi put more energy into her steps so she can keep moving and not slack off and go back to bed.

Luckily for Orochi, her father is in the garden practicing punches with diligence and laser-focused discipline. She sighs and walks towards her father. “Hey, Fa—”

“Hello, snapping turtle. Waking up early, I see? Don’t you think Little Glacier will be mad at you for that?” Without batting an eye at her, Yamamoto managed to detect her presence as if it was nothing special…

"Confident bastard." Orochi pouts as she hears her father’s words. “Father! I’m too old for you to use these nicknames! I stopped biting things at random when I was nine!” Orochi's pout grows bigger, and the hydra heads, especially the middle one, stare at Yamamoto, before mimicking Orochi and pouting at him too.

"My little pre-historic biter, you thought you were some type of shark, you bite to understand whatever was happening around you." The older Atsushi has a mirthful smile, recalling the days his middle daughter was wild and free, exploring the world around her with eagerness and passion.

Biting everything she didn’t know to check if it was food or not. "Well, I think your tails influenced you instead of you controlling them at that time, but alas. you were so cute when you weren’t trying to rip chunks of wood off our trees."

“Okay, okay, but you could refer to me as Papa as you used to. Father feels so bitter and cold.” Yamamoto lets out a bit of faux worry and hurt in his voice, to tease his daughter a little. She needs to be cheered after everything that happened. Not that he is against being called Papa again, Kyoko doesn’t call him Papa anymore, just blanket 2.

"You are my only hope, Orochi. Kyoko sees me as a substitute for you, and Akane is too busy trying to break into my alcohol stash to call me Papa without wanting me to open the stash."

Yamamoto remembers the good old days with his daughters when they were more carefree and less serious. Crocodile tears fall from his eyes as he remembers those days, his mirthful smile turning into a comically sad smile.

“In your dreams, old man.”

“You are going to kill this old man, my poor little heart won’t withstand such cruelty and coldness…” The older Atsushi speaks in a hurt tone like his heart was broken into a million pieces, but the younger Atsushi knows better.

Veins jump on her forehead, her pout vanishing. Her expression is serious and angry. “Oh, your heart is in an excellent state, old man. Don’t you think I don’t know you and mom are trying to give me another sis—”

“AHEM! What brings you here, Orochi? You like to sleep and cuddle until 8 a.m. Rarely do you break that schedule.” Yamamoto stops practicing his punches. The old man straightens his posture and turns around to look at his daughter.

“You look like Akane after she fails to break my safe’s lock. Utterly bad. Let me guess, you couldn’t sleep?” Orochi’s old man gives a sympathetic smile to his daughter.

“Yeah, something like that. I was wondering if you could answer some questions. It is about martial arts. I’m… confused after everything that happened. I need your guidance, father.” Orochi's face flushes red. She looks away. Yamamoto, however, shows a surprised face, not expecting his daughter to be so forward with a doubt like that.

Not after she made it clear that she saw martial arts as tools to reach an objective, protect the weak, and hone her skills. After the initial shock, he smiles contently. His daughter visiting him in his morning training is enough to make his day. Is she coming to him for questions? It is delighting.

“Shoot. I will try to answer your questions with the best of my capacities, snapping turtle.” Yamamoto walks to his daughter and ruffles her hair. Orochi doesn’t pout but looks her father in the eyes.

Letting her worry, fear, and doubts show in her eyes. “Father I…want to know… I don’t know. I know why I should fight… yet I feel like something. I fight for my friends, for you, for mum, for our family, for the innocents, but something is missing. I…”

Orochi bites her lips, the worries in her heart manifesting physically. Crystal-clear tears fall from her eyes. Her purple eyes show confusion, fear, and doubt. She got an answer for one of the one hundred and eight doubts in her mind, but one hundred and seven questions still have to be answered.

Yamamoto closes his eyes, pushing back the worry and need to hold his daughter close, assure her that things will be okay and she will find the answers to those questions in time. No, he cannot patronize his daughter in that way.

Yamamoto lived enough to know this wouldn’t work, and the world wouldn’t let those answers come at a natural pace. It a heavy breath, he tosses aside the worries and doubts in his own heart, so he can guide his daughter better.

The soft and cheerful expression vanishes, replaced by a sterner but still kind complexion. “Orochi, there is no way to answer this. There was a time when I lost like you, I wasn’t sad but angry at this world.”

Yamoto turns away, placing his arms behind his back, speaking with discipline and calm. “In my times, there was a popular saying:

“If it got a tail, it is going to smack you with it. If it has dog ears, it is going to listen to all of your secrets. If it has claws, it is waiting to maul you.”

It was used to define us, mutants, in a more barbaric time when people weren’t as kind or sympathetic as they are today.”

Yamamoto starts to stroll through the garden, Orochi trailing after him, biting back her tears to listen to her father’s words.

“In that time, all mutants were thought to turn to villainy one way or another, and we were prejudiced, more than we are today. If a mutant wanted to be a hero, he had to fight against the current of my time, a crushing current that cared little about your intention as it cared about your appearance.”

His voice turns somber, recalling how things were thirty years ago. The world was better thanks to the first wave of heroes, but the laws and rules still had to be defined at that time. Heroes experimented with what stuck and what didn’t.

“I got it easier because I was handsome despite my mutations, but many of my friends, my coworkers, and those who worked in my office weren’t so lucky. They all had a story to tell.” The old man sighs, feeling that the speech will be long, and will take time to reach the point he wants to drive across.

“I was lost in my youth, so full of anger towards a world that took my mother from me, and forced me to live with the anger and eyes of people directed towards me. It was infuriating, I thought of giving it all and becoming a villain every single day, even as I attended a hero school to honor my late mother.”

Those days were hectic and chaotic, with villains appearing week after week, nonstop, and the industry needing more heroes to counterbalance the wave of villains. Many of them were mutants.

It felt as if the world was coming after him and those with mutations. “I was rejected from both Shiketsu and UA because of my mutations, the fact my tail has a spear tip was considered “too lethal” by them. Not even the Atsushi name got me a pass. I had to attend a third-rate hero school.”

It felt crushing to be rejected by both of the country’s biggest schools. He was sure he had the skills to pass and become a hero, yet they didn’t accept him over something as stupid as the shape of his tail tip.

“I was lost, I wanted to honor my mother’s wishes, but I didn’t know how or why I should. This world hated me, hated her. I seriously thought of letting people without mutations die when I was young because I couldn’t sympathize with them after so many problems and suffering they brought me.”

Yamamoto feels the eyes of his daughter widen. She never heard that part of his story, Akane only heard it after graduating, when he deemed she was ready to hear about the world and how it is for people like them.

Yet he couldn’t expect the quick growth of his middle daughter, precocious enough to hear this speech at the tender age of sixteen. “I was lost, I knew why I had to fight, but I was in doubt if I should. I too was lost like you.”

Yamamoto stops walking to stare at the blue sky. “It wasn’t years later until I made the MutPunk Office with The Tanuki Hero Pancho and the Subzero Hero Aurorus that I understood "What my choices meant, and where my heart lay in all of this.”

“My mother challenged this world; her life was a challenge to society and Earth itself. She was a mutant and gave her life to nonmutants and mutants alike. I understood that I had to challenge this world too. Change it like she did, to prove we mutants are no different than those without mutation.”

He closes his eyes. “I have chosen to fight fate like my mother did. Orochi, our powers are like swords. They can easily kill or save a person. You know it better than anyone in this mansion. I don’t know if you will find my long-winded words rubbish or insightful. This is up to you.”

Yamamoto clenches his fists. “I chose to use my powers, my sword, to cut through the grey stormy clouds that covered the skies, to cut the prejudice people had towards mutants, becoming the top five hero. I couldn’t cut it all, but I made way for the next generation. I made way for people like Saurus, even if they don’t know, even if they don’t care, they are changing this world.”

“I dedicated my life to changing this world after I understood myself and my mother’s wishes. I understood that I wanted to save people and fight for them, but I realized my purpose in life was to help mutants and continue my mother’s wishes. You realized your reason to fight, Orochi.”

The weak and refreshing morning breeze passes through them. Yamamoto opens his eyes, to stare at the sun shining bright above them. “The fire of passion and purpose can exist in anyone. Villains can have it, justified and self-validating themselves in their evil ways. In heroes that protect the people of this world against villains, in the humble office worker. In the homeless who can share a pearl of worldly wisdom that we left to pass by us, taking it for granted.”

“You have to find your passion, Orochi. You are just beginning to find yourself, the fire that your mother tried to extinguish two years ago is now shining bright in you, but it is a mere spark.” Orochi’s father turns around.

His daughter’s face was teary, but she listened to every word he muttered and spoke. He ruffles her hair again. “I cannot help you find yourself, my daughter. Only you can do it, but I can give you pointers, and help you understand who you are. Call me; I will make time to listen to you and help you out.”

“In this earth, you are my most precious treasure. You, Akane, Kyoko, your mother, Aoi and Yuujirou, and your cousin Seiryu, you are all that matters to me. I don’t care about what the men in suits will think about me going to help you with your problems and woes.”

“I don’t care about what lines I will cross or how many mountains I will need to move for our family. I don’t know if my words helped you, or if they will help, but only you can make your purpose and forge it with your own hands. This world is big; Kyoto is much bigger than you think; there is plenty of wisdom and knowledge to gather in this place.”

He smiles at her. “What I want you to understand is… that all of us will be lost in life someday, and that it is natural to feel lost. It is no sin, and you can find your way and forge it instead of waiting for nature to take its course.

Your fate is in your hands, and no matter what you choose, I will be here to support you. I was lost in anger, you are lost in doubt, but no matter what, we are family, and I will try my best to understand and help you.”

Again, Yamamoto looks at the skies. “Sometimes the path, the right one, is not what we once thought was right. The world is not black and white, much less grey. It is a kaleidoscope with a multitude of colors. Remember that.”