Alive

Category:Stories
Category:Shisou
Category:Grey Tiger Tong
Category:Shades of Grey
((Original thread here))
The sun was high in the clear blue sky. A cool breeze was sweeping through from the north. He was home now and the hole in his shoulder wasn't there anymore. Life was good. Shisou smiled standing atop the tallest building in Falconwing Square. His left foot slid back and his hands came up in the familiar form taught to him by Cel. His arms and legs moved in the motions of the kata on muscle memory alone, leaving his mind to wander over the events of the last month.
Osan had just gotten sicker and sicker and even with the Pack's help he couldn't afford any of the medicine for the old man. So he'd done the deed and gotten a job. He hadn't really wanted to. It meant leaving behind Silvermoon and the Pack and Osan at times. Even if he was curious about the world beyond the walls of Quel'thalas, he always missed home.
He finished the kata with a roll and a leap and he was off. The leap carried him over the edge of the building and he hit the next roof below at a run. This was his sky and he would fly. I am a leaf on the wind, watch how I soar. He leapt from the precipice of that roof and flipped through the air to land in a crouch on the wall of the next building. Gravity took hold and he began to slide down the building. When he began to slide too fast or lose control he would leap across the gap between the buildings and slide down the other wall. He loved doing this. His next leap carried him onto a lower rooftop, still a dizzying height from the ground and his legs began to churn again.
The Tong was alright he supposed. He liked some of the members more than others. Red was alright, and maybe that Su'jin. Big Boss was a bit of a jerk, but he was a respectable jerk. He couldn't be Big Boss without deserving it after all. Maybe he was just a jerk because he was apparently hitched to one. That'd make anyone a jerk. he smirked. There was Lucky of course. He didn't really like her really, but he supposed if he'd take a bolt from her then he had to trust her some. And then there was the General. That guy just liked being a boss.
He was rapidly approaching the end of this roof and if he didn't hit that pole at his absolute best speed then he wouldn't make it. Each corner of the building had a tall pole from which flags and banners hung and the next roof was some yards taller. He grabbed the pole in both hands as his feet left the stone behind, swung around it once to build up the speed and released his grip perfectly to fly upwards through the air. He still nearly missed the roof, only grabbing it with his hands but a quick vault up put him back at a run.
The Bay wasn't the worst place to be all told. It was wet and stank like fish and sweat and noisy and strange, but not all that bad. If nothing else there was always something new to find. Things like a kennel or a shady roof or, he blushed a little at the thought, that place Red took him to. He'd spent one night there, that night he met Fae, curled up on someone's roof. Aside from the preceding night in Orgrimmar, that was the only night he'd spent outside of Silvermoon.
He had a good wind going now. He used a somersault to flip from the roof he had just run out of to the wall that ran down from it. Hands grasping the moulding that rand down the building he let gravity do it's work and pull him down towards the building below. He kicked off the wall, flipped once, spun around, and rolled when he landed on the roof below.
The Pack seemed content to leave him alone now that he was employed. He'd been to see them of course, but since Silver had died they hadn't come to him. That hurt, but life was pain. When you stopped feeling it you were dead. He wasn't dead yet and he wasn't going to let the Pack toss him off with Silver as a lost cause. Belore needed someone around who could speak and compare with what had happened. Bear would just mouth off and Bull and Monk were just too damn quiet. Ears just wouldn't understand...
The next leap carried him clear into the air, high enough above the streets that he could only barely make out the faces below even with his elven vision. His hands hit the banner and his feet pulled up to cross over it. the banner's incline pulled him down and he felt the friction heating his gloves and shins. His feet hit the wall and he sprung backwards, flipping down onto someone's balcony and was dropping down from balcony to balcony a split second later.
And then there was Osan's gift to him, strapped securely to his back. He had a history now, a heritage. Even a last name. He'd never really had those things before. A person with a past could have a future. His right hand slipped the grip as he realized he was growing up and his motion finally stopped. Suspended dozens of feet from the bazaar below and hanging on by just one hand.
He swung his feet towards the balcony below and let go with his left hand. Once he landed on his feet he flipped backward, landing on another banner and slid down this one on his back, kicking off it at a precise moment to fly through that familiar window.
He hit the floor of Osan's room in a crouch, smiling and laughing. It had been too long since he'd just cut loose and ran. There was a pitcher and pair of cups on the small table and he joyfully approached them. He tossed a wave and a "Hey gramps" as he poured the bright red tea. Shiny! Ceyne!
He turned around cup in hand and smiled at the bed. "How ya doin' gramps?" No answer came from the still form laying peacefully on the bed. "Hey... Osan... Osan..." He never heard the cup fall from his hand and break on the floor. "Osan...."