The Weight of the Mountain

Title: The Weight of the Mountain
Category: Fanfiction, Crossover — Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, Sandman
Keywords: time travel, samurai, miyamoto musashi, wudan, Li Mu Bai, Dream of the Endless, Green Destiny sword
Summary: Israel begins his journey to Wudan Mountain.  Surprises await him with the extra-ordinary feats that the masters of Wudan are capable of… but more than that, he meets Daniel, timeless, and newest member of THE FAMILY.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Wudan Mountain.  Sony Pictures has rights to that, i think. Dream of the Endless first revealed himself to Neil Gaiman.  Not claiming, harming, or selling through them. Don’t sue me, i’m penniless anyway. Just having a little fun with stories
TIMELINE: Right after leaving Musashi, Israel heads to the mountains of Wudan.
Author notes:

oooo000oooo

Chapter 1.

“The weight of the mountain must flow through you — from your will, to your shoulders, down to your arms, to the steady skill of your hands, to the tip of your sword.  Let it not burden you, let it pass through you.”

The quiet breeze of the dawn has always been the perfect time for Israel’s kata.  No matter what plagues him, a good night’s sleep and the subtle comfort of the morning breeze is enough to calm his heart. for a time.

Remembering his master’s words, Israel kept the forms of the deadly dance he performs with seeming ease.  Being a master swordsman, the moves looked effortless and natural, masking the years of hard work and discipline each set required.  Sweat glistened through his lean and muscular body, and his mind stilled as he focused his being on the moves long instilled into his psyche.

snap.

Immediately alert and ready, Israel tensed and awaited the intruder’s arrival.  Alone in the woods, he wasn’t expecting company.

nothing.

Perhaps it was just an animal, or perhaps, someone was watching him.  Perhaps.

Let them come. I don’t appreciate people disturbing my kata. awaiting the attack, Israel kept to his forms, and waited.

still nothing.

Finishing his workout, Israel proceeded to eat the last of the smoked beef that sumi gave to him when he left musashi’s dojo.  his master said goodbye to him and sent him to another country, another school, in the hopes of stilling his disquieted heart.  the move did not please israel.

but he went. because his master said so. because he had no desire to go against the wishes of a dying man he calls friend. and because he had no home to call his own, and he’s a man searching for peace.

and there, musashi said, peace might be a step closer.

Wudan mountain, and the closely-guarded secrets of its masters.

Chapter 2 The Weight of Water

Blue. sparkling, crystal-clear blue as far as the eye can see. the unmistakable smell of the ocean lulling him to relaxation, and smooth waves welcoming his feet.  Israel’s memory is sharp and clear — he can remember most things since that day he woke under the gentle rain and met Musashi for the first time, and he knew he has never seen the sea before.  But anything prior to that day, is a hazy mist no meditation has been able to penetrate…

but now, the sea feels like… home.

the feel of grainy sand on his feet. the sound of the comings and goings of the waves.  the cool breeze from the sea. the early morning sun quietly warming the earth. the endless sky above him, and the sea beckoning her welcome. israel didn’t know why, but for something he has never seen before, he was instantly at ease with the sea.

home.

and of course, it was too much to hope for the peace to last.

HELP! HELP ME!!

a young girl, not more than 15, pursued by western traders obviously drunk.

israel let the girl pass, and shifted his weight to his left foot, positioning himself between the girl and her pursuers. he might not be carrying a katana, but the wakisashi his master gave him can be just as dangerous, when placed in the right hands. and israel’s hands were perfect for the job.

four men, all burly and drunk. seeing israel’s lean frame and smaller asian stature, they didn’t even slow down as they neared him, obviously intending to just brush him aside.

israel didn’t bother warning them, nor unsheathing his sword.

a flash shifting of weight to his right foot and israel was airborne. left hand holding the still-sheathed wakisashi, israel did a tumble turn to evade the men, and while airborne, caught one of the men’s arms with his right hand.

using his momentum from his jump, and the man’s own imbalance, israel twisted the arm that he caught — and broke the man’s shoulder in the process. even before his companions could react, israel’s left hand was swinging — a horizontal ba’tto swing that caught another man on his right rib… and promptly fractured the bone.

two down, two to go.

sobered by how quickly israel dispatched of their comrades, the two remaining westerners were stunned for a heartbeat before they launched their own attack — more out of surprise and rage rather than planning.

they actually jumped him.

people familiar with the school of musashi know that jumping one of its masters is one of the most idiotic things you could do. unable to shift momentum, the body will provide a target too easy to hit, especially for a swordsman adept at lightning-quick draws.

a burst-jab with the wakisashi’s handle straight to the left assailant’s diaphragm. a rabbit-punch to the other attacker’s throat.

(so early in the morning… at least i didn’t cut them)

a broken shoulder, a fractured rib, and two other men down on the ground struggling to breathe. all four of them nursing injuries that would remind them of their folly.  less than a century from now, the emperor of japan would decree that the land of the rising sun would no longer welcome foreigners to its land.  But today, strangers from distant lands and their uncouth ways were free to roam japan.

israel walked away, wondering why he showed mercy to the foreigners.

maybe because he knew, that very soon, he will be a foreigner himself.

Chapter 3 The Steps of Wudan

A thousand steps, with the air thinning with each level.  Israel looked at Wudan mountain with wonder and appreciation — the very earth of the mountain seemed to have a soothing effect on him.

Sporting a superb physique due to his constant training, Israel was not especially concerned with the steps he will scale in order to reach the top.  He was, however, reluctant to face whoever is up there.  Afterall, his master Musashi was impressed by the skill of the Wudan initiates, and Musashi was far from being easy to impress.  Israel briefly wondered how he would fare against one of the Wudan masters.

So Israel took his time, scaling the steps with ease but not hurrying.  He allowed his mind to wander, and his eyes to feast on the old but well-crafted stone steps.  The vegetation was also new to him, as was the birds that fleeted from tree to tree.  The journey to China awakened the wanderer in him, and Israel was enjoying himself too much to notice the eyes that have been observing him.

“You’ve come a long way, stranger” said the gray-robed youth who seemed to have stepped out of nowhere.

Israel was surprised despite himself.  He couldn’t even remember the last time someone was able to sneak up on him like this — one minute he was sure to be all alone, and the next, he was facing someone who obviously had him in his sights for a long time.  He was sufficiently surprised to grab hold of his wakisashi’s sheath at his side and automatically assume the ‘ready’ position.

“People from the lowlands visit our mountain… but i don’t think i have seen you before. Yes… i am sure you’re a stranger here.. for everyone knows that it is forbidden to carry weapons in wudan mountain save for those trained here.”

“If you wish to continue up to our mountain, I would request that you leave your weapon here – to me, and i will even accompany you to the top.”

The gray-robed youth said all these with a smile, but Israel could recognize a warrior when he sees one — even when the person carries no apparent weapon in sight.  Moreover, his wakisahi was given to him personally by his master.  He could just as soon give it up as let his own arm be amputated.

“I am Israel, and i have come from across the seas.  My master has sent me to see the Master of Wudan mountain, and honor forbids me to leave my weapon behind.” answered Israel.

“And duty compels me to prevent you from going up our mountain with that blade at your side.” “Friend” the youth implored, “please do not let me fight you. I do not want that.  And you won’t either.”

Despite himself, Israel was impressed.  The quiet confidence of the youth was rare for his age, and he seemed pretty sure that Israel would be sorry if he insisted on going up.

(Well let’s see what you got…) Israel feigned dismissing the youth and continued up the mountain.

“Stop!”

“Stop!”

Even when walking away from the youth, Israel’s focus was centered on his adversary.  When the youth took the air, Israel was ready to meet him.

He couldn’t believe his eyes.

It wasn’t a jump, not really.  It seemed like riding the wind, or dismissing gravity all together.  The youth took to the air and landed gracefully at Israel’s front, and he’s now holding a sword that was apparently hidden somewhere in the folds of his robe.

The youth raised his sword and pointed it at Israel.  “Last chance, stranger.  Go down now, and leave this land. Or lay down your weapon.  I cannot let you pass otherwise.”

Israel let loose a swing he didn’t normally use. It was one of his fastest draws – a lunge mixed with a diagonal slash designed to kill with one lightning stroke.  This time, he was only intending to disarm the youth in a blink.  He didn’t really want to fight the youth, just let him know that there are other powers out there capable of matching his own.

a singular clang of steel. and the mountain seemed to hold its breath for the combatants.

but the youth still held his sword.

he was thrown aside, true, but he still had his sword.  Once again, Israel’s opinion of the youth went up a notch.

But idle thoughts such as that soon vanished from Israel’s mind.  the youth attacked with such grace and efficiency of motion that Israel had rarely seen.  Every swing, every twist of the youth’s sword seemed like a dance predetermined.  Not even Musashi was this graceful in battle.

But Israel was a master himself. Even with the shorter wakisashi, he was still faster, more experienced than the youth.

Israel caught a vertical stroke from his assailant.  Using the blade of his sword, he used the youth’s own momentum to twist their direction and slammed the youth to a nearby stone pillar.

“Yield.” Israel breathed.  The fight took more effort from him than he anticipated.  “I have no wish to harm you.”

“I can’t let you up with that blade in your hand.  It is my duty, my honor.  I would rather die than fail in my duty.”

“Death before dishonor, eh?” Israel couldn’t help but smile.  Most people crack under the threat of bodily harm, but this youth was obviously made of sterner stuff.

The momentary slip in focus cost israel.

The youth twisted his body and managed to shift into a more managable position. And even before Israel could act, an unexpected somersault by the youth slammed him to the stone pillar where he had earlier thrown his adversary.

blood.

blood in his mouth.

first blood to the youth.

Skilled or not, very few people manage to make Israel bleed and live to tell about it. With instinct taking over, a guttural roar escaped from the bowels of his throat as Israel simultaneously lunged and let loose his sword.
The youth froze. His skills may have been close to Israel’s but his adversary was trained by one of the most ferocious fighter the world had ever seen.  And Israel learned everything that his Master taught him. Everything.

CLANG!

Out from nowhere, an older man holding a thin greenish sword blocked Israel’s blow.  His speed was unlike anything Israel had imagined possible. With one swift move, the elder swordsman blocked Israel and threw him back.

“You have some skill with a sword.” said the elder.  “That move i used to block your swing is called the Nik’teh — a long stroke designed to stop an adversary’s attack by using the opponent’s own force and deflecting it not only to block but also to disarm the opponent.  I have been using it for the past 50 years and once i have mastered that move, no one has been able to keep their own swords. No one… until today.”

“Who are you, stranger? and what called you to Wudan mountain?”

Israel bowed; he knew this was the Master of the mountain of Wudan.  With his arm still numb from the block, he lowered his sword and spoke.

“I am Israel, Master of the two-sword school.  My own master bid me farewell and bade that I go to the mountains of Wudan to speak to its Lord.  I have come from across the seas.  I have traveled a long way.  I have no wish to harm anyone, but that boy blocked my path.”

“The boy is under orders to do so.”

“And this blade was entrusted to me by my Master! It does not leave my side.”

a few heartbeats.  and a stare deceptive in its softness.

“Courage.  Skill. Loyalty to your master.  I’m beginning to like you, stranger.  What is your master’s purpose in sending you to Wudan?”

“My master… wanted me to train here.”

“And who is your master?”

“Musashi. Miyamoto Musashi.”

“Musashi! I have fought him once… and his aura spoke of honor and skill very few can match.  If he sent you here, then there must be something special about you.”  Israel remained quiet.

“Very well then, I’ll see you at the top.”  With that, the elder turned to leave.

“Wait!  What… what shall i call you?

“I am called…  Nan He.  Southern Crane.  And this is my student, Li Mu Bai.  Welcome to Wudan.”

Israel couldn’t speak.

(Li Mu Bai?!?  Li Mu Bai?!?  I know that name!  I know it!  I know it from a time before I woke up in the fields!  I know that name!)

(And i also know he’s not a real person!)

With all the confusion going through his mind, Israel didn’t notice the growing blackness before it consumed his consciousness.  His body went limp, instantly asleep…

… with sand that suddenly appeared near his feet.

Chapter 4 The Sands of Dreaming

the sounds of gentle waves crashing on the shore. a heavy but silent wind rushing from the sea. gray skies, with no bird in flight.

israel regained consciousness slowly, gently.  as if the world recognized how empty he felt after the shock of meeting a person whom he knew was completely fictional, and wanted to ease him into waking.  he sat up, took a deep breath, and stared at the endless ocean before him.

“you made this, you know. the gray skies, the sharp winds, the silent environment. i took a look at how you felt, and this is what i found.”

israel turned to his right and saw a lean man wearing robes so colorful it hurt his eyes… robes that could have contained galaxies within itself. his hair was unkempt, his face white and sharp, with eyes that – unbelievably — seemed all black. he looked like a demon lord, he looked like a god. he was young and he was timeless. he spoke as if he had always been beside israel in that beach, when israel could have sworn that he was all alone a moment ago.

“where am i?”

“in your head, some would say.” answered the pale man with impossibly black eyes. ”although we both know better.”

“you’re in the dreaming, Israel. land of eternal dawn, realm of the lidless sleep… I am master here, and i bid you welcome.”

“Master of the dreaming… sure. and i’m the real emperor of Japan.” said Israel.  He didn’t know what the pale man wanted, but he had no plans of wasting his time.  He began to stand.

“is it really that hard to believe?” asked the pale man. and the world changed.

Israel fell… and kept on falling. He suddenly found himself falling from an impossible height, and he didn’t even had time to scream before something big broke his fall.

“Why are you surprised?” said the pale man who was suddenly beside him, riding a giant bird. “Haven’t you always dreamed of riding Gwaihir, King of Eagles, and touching the clouds?”

Israel was beside himself.  He has killed men and made love to women, he has battled foes fearsome enough to chill the blood of whole armies but never in his life did he expect to ride a giant eagle and talk to the man with nothing but black in his eyes.

And as suddenly as he found himself falling in the air, Israel found himself on a plateau, overlooking an island. the pale man was still with him.

Nauseous and reeling from the sudden shift of environment, Israel stood shakily and faced the pale man.

“Who are you?”

“I have told you before.  I bear many titles — Lord shaper, Prince of Stories, Master of the fleeting realm.  I am Dream.”

From the recesses of his mind, Israel remembered a name from a myth…

“Morpheus?”

The pale man stood silent, as if Israel broached an awkward subject.

“That name… is no longer mine.  I have changed and I am who I am now.  Morpheus is gone, as with the child Daniel. There is only Dream now.”

“What do you want from me?”

Here the pale man hesitated, as if he was about to ask a favor from Israel.

“I want you… to live your dreams.”

Chapter 5 The Song of the Green Destiny

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