A fine morning dawned on Shanhaijing. The sun awoke from its slumber to gaze upon the school. On the ancient cultured grounds was another who stirred, ready to make a new day. Urushibara Kaguya, the leader of the Peking Opera sect, fierce as a panther, loyal as a meister's googles, beautiful like a shooting star. Kaguya rose earlier than normal because the peach winds gave her a typhoon of information. An honored individual wished to meet with her. Kaguya's eyes, warm like fire, yet piercing like a needle, gazed upon this missive. She thought about how time was an incense stick, and begun to reminisce on the scent this stick gave her. Her meridians bent with the wafting smoke, how this smoke once was the fresh ash on the stick. It was thick, and strong, too strong. She had eyes, but could not see Mount Tai. Her face, pure like a quiet lake, rippled at this, before going still again, but illuminated with a smile. When she could see, the sight went for miles, but the smoke carried a bittersweet note. Her hair, like a carefully cultivated grain, moved in position to be parted, a familiar ritual she had done for many a day, and undone for many a night. There was not much she would question- questions are not what Kaguya dances with. The world is a stage with many stages, so she instead flowed like the bamboo does in the wind, or the water does in the lake. Her gracefulness and humility made her known across the land as the panther with no finale. She may leave the stage, her mask may be scorned. But Urushibara Kaguya of the Peking Opera Sect could not break. Yet, the peach wind she observed gave the normally flowing actress pause. This, like the incense stick running out, was expected. But much like a sudden plague of children, this was somewhat unexpected. Kaguya closed her eyes. She had cultivated herself for this moment. Her body had the health to put athletic trainers to shame. Her mind, free of dwelling, kept itself light. Her soul, strong and reliable, like a shield of pure steel. She exited her house and entered the bustling streets of Shanhaijing. She knew the end of her journey, and began to put one foot in front of the other. Her heels clicked in rhythm, a slow beat. Yet her heart crescendoed in her. The streets were the same as yesterday, the day before, and many days before then. They would be the same tomorrow, the day after, and many days after this. A peaceful noise from fellow students accompanied the familiar location, yet felt entirely alien. Left and right, right and left, her feet moved, click and clack, clack and click. Her thoughts raced like a flood coming in and taking its spoils to areas never known. Then, all was still. Her heart quieted, the chatter of the street died, her footfalls silenced. Even the wind held its tongue for this speaker.
"Good morning, Kaguya".
A cat always lands on its feet, and Kaguya had the grace of one. Her meridians pulsed softly, as the incense stick had a new scent.
"Good morning, Sensei."
I did not draw this, but it seemed fitting. However I felt compelled to write a bit of wuxia for Kaguya, I just really wanted to. It burned in my very essence!