Long Chan-Chan Chapter 12
"Buddha"
(Buddha's Temple)


Long and Drake looked at the large man with the disfigured nose, and just waited. He stood there with his arms crossed, and was glaring at Long. Finally, Drake broke the silence.

"Well, are you going to let us in or not?" he asked.

"Yes" was all Yin Chiong answered.

He didn't say anymore, for that was all that was needed to say. Long had completly forgot that Drake was there until then. He had been so fixated on Yin, that he had forgot all about the younger man. Yin had probably forgotten about him too, as he was as fixated on Long as Long was fixated on he.

Finally Yin looked away, and opened the door leading into the Temple. Drake looked to Long, who nodded, and proceeded inwards. Long was assaulted with memories of this place.

On his left was the dojo where he had learned the Star Lightning Kick. On his right was the mess hall where he had broken Yin's nose. Farther on, again on the right, was the library where Long had fallen asleep without ever opening a book many a time. Farther on, this time on the left, was the private chambers where Long had spent many an evening meditating to relax his sub-consiousness.

Finally, straight ahead, was the Buddha's chambers. Long had only met the Buddha once. Which was all that you were allowed, unless you were a Grand Master of this Temple. It was a large room, filled with candles, and in the center sat the Buddha. Long remembered the old man, and how nice he had been. Long had only been seven at the time of their meeting, but he remembered it clearly.

The young boy walked into the room with his head bowed, as was the custom when meeting the Buddha. He was so concentrated on the floor, that he walked right into a candle. It knocked over, and the sound echoed in the large room. The boy turned beat red with embarassment, and turned to leave.

"Do not go" said a voice.

The boy turned and saw an old man sitting in the center of the room. He seemed to be in full meditation, yet he was beckoning for the boy to approach him with one hand. The boy nodded, and walked over to this old man, the Buddha.

"Sit, my child" said the Buddha.

The boy nodded, and did as he was told. He sat directly in front of the Buddha in a cross-legged stance, mirroring the old man.

"The canlde is of no importance" said the Buddha. "It can be replaced. But this meeting cannot."

The boy gulped, and the Buddha opened his eyes for the first time that the boy had been there.

"How do you feel?" asked the Buddha.

"Fine" said the boy in a shaky voice.

"You're afraid" stated the Buddha. "Don't be. I won't bite you. I just want to meet with you."

The old man looked Long up and down. He started right into Long's eyes, as if peering into his heart. He zoned back into this world, and then nodded.

"You are truly a Chan" said the Buddha.

"That's my problem" muttered the boy.

"Why, young Chan?" asked the Buddha.

"My last name is Chan" answered the boy. "And as is customary, I have to take the last name of my master and put it together with my own. I have to go through life with the name Long Chan-Chan."

The Buddha chuckled for a bit, then he composed himself. Long was hurt by this, but the Biddha reached out, and placed a reassuring hand on Long's shoulder.

"It is an honor to go by such a name" said the Buddha. "The name Chan signifies 'power' among martial artists. Having the name Chan-Chan means you will have double that power."

Long smiled a bit at this, but then regained himself, and went back to his neutral expression.

"Why do you force so hard to be like this?" asked the Buddha.

"It is disrespectful if I. . ." started Long.

"No it isn't" said the Buddha, interupting Long. "Didn't your master tell you to be yourself?"

"Yes" answered Long. "And I was, I was myself when I knocked the candle over."

The Buddha laughed at this.

"You are a very funny child, Long Chan-Chan" remarked the Buddha. "Are you not sure that you missed your calling in life and were supposed to be a comedian?"

Long took personal offense to that. He stood up straight and proud, and looked the Buddha in the eye.

"I am a martial artist" pronounced Long. "I don't want to be anything else."

"Yes, I know" said the Buddha. "Do not take offense to my remarks. It was only to be meant as humor. Now listen to us. I sound like the child and you sound like the master. Do we not?"

Long smiled, and sat back down. He looked at the Buddha, and nodded.

"I am sorry for my outbreak, Master" said Long.

"That is okay" said the Buddha, reassuringly. "We can't control our emotions all the time. If we could, then we would be perfect, and no one is perfect."

"But you. . ." began Long.

"Am close to that" said the Buddha, cutting Long off. "And it took me many years of training. The only time that anyone is perfect, is in death. Only then can all emotions be controlled. My time will come soon. And then I will be perfect."

"No, Master" said Long.

"Don't worry child" started the Buddha. "I am old. My time will come, and a new Buddha will be appointed."

He coughed after saying this. Long moved over to help him, but the old man waved him off.

"I am alright" he said reassuringly. "I am just getting old. Even I will not live forever."

"But. . ." started Long.

"You believe the legend of the Buddha, don't you?" asked the Buddha. When Long nodded, he continued. "It says that the Buddha is a god that we worship, and that the Buddha on Earth is actually his immortal disciple. Well, the immortal part is not entirely accurate. Although I have a lengthened life, I can die, and will by the looks of it. Then my son will take this job. And through him, will I live on. Thus I am immortal through him."

"Why do you tell me this?" asked Long.

"Because you still do not know, and you have the innocence that I once had" answered the Buddha. "I can see great things for you, Young Chan. Greater than most people. But only through pain and sacrifice can they be attained. You will fight against destiny itself. Only with courage and strength of mind will you defeat it."

Long was unsure of what to do, so he just nodded slowly. The Buddha laughed, or tried to, as it came out as a gargled cough.

"I must be going now" said Long, no longer wanting to see the Buddha in such pain.

He walked away from the Buddha, but as he was about to leave the room, he heard the Buddha call out to him.

"You will not overcome destiny alone" he said. "Trust your friends, and show mercy to your enemies."

Long exited the room contemplating those words.

That memory still burned clear in his mind. It was an important one, and he had done many meditation exercises to keep it fresh. He still wondered about the Buddha words often. He didn't know what they meant, and that annoyed him alot.

"Wait here" said Yin, opening the chamber doors, and walking off quickly.

Long did as he was told, and turned to look back down the hall. So many memories. So many fun times. So many bad times. So many times, period.

"So, any idea how the old guy will react to you being here?" asked Drake.

"Watch your mouth" said Long. "And be respectful. Has your training deteriorated so much that you disrespect the Buddha? Besides, I don't even know if it's still the same Buddha. He may have died."

"Woa!" exclamed Drake. "They die? I always thought that they were some kind of immortal god!"

"Don't be so naive" said Long, blankly. "They just live longer than most normal people. Something to do with being in touch with god."

"Oh, okay" replied Drake.

They stood in silence for a bit, and Long noticed how uncomfortable and impatient Drake was being. After a few minutes of pacing by the young man, he started walking off.

"Where are you going off to?" asked Long.

"Just going to explore for a bit" answered Drake. "Don't worry. I know my way around, and I won't get into trouble."

Long nodded, and figured that Drake was getting old enough, and he could take care of himself. Long turned back to the door, sat on the ground cross-legged, and began meditating.

Drake walked down a hallway and entered the mess hall. He had been living off of emergency rations for about a week now, so he was pretty hungry. As he walked in, he was assaulted by the smell of fine oriental cooking.

"Gods, that smells good!" he exclaimed.

He saw a few trainees sitting at one table, a few masters scattered around in various groups, and off to a corner, he saw someone who he recognized. He walked up to the table, and sat down. The young man there looked up, surprised, but then he smiled.

"Drake!" he said, excited.

"Yep, that would be me" said Drake. "How're you doing Waskim?"

The dark skinned young man shrugged. He closed the book he had been reading, and then he slid it into a pack by his side.

"Still reading as much as ever, eh?" asked Drake.

"Yes, but this is important stuff" replied Waskim. "It is the history of this area. I'm studying up to become a scholar here. I want to be able to teach the trainees about history and how to adapt ourselves to changes. Always learn from others mistakes."

"Hmm. I still think that you're a bookworm" said Drake. "And who ever heard of a martial artist scholar?"

"And whoever heard of a martial artist con?" remarked Waskim in defense.

"Point taken" said Drake. "To change the subject: What have you been up to lately?"

"Reading" said Waskim.

Drake caught a sense of nervousness at that question. Waskim tugged at the collar of his uniform, and looked uncomfortable.

"What's wrong?" asked Drake.

"Um, nothing" replied Waskim, nervously.

"Then why are you nervous?" asked Drake.

"Nervous? Nervous? No" answered Waskim, shaking his head. "Not nervous. Just tired. I haven't slept in a while."

"Oh. Okay" replied Drake, apprehensively.

After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, Waskim stood and grabbed his bookbag. "I have to go" he said.

"Why?" asked Drake. "What's the rush?"

"Something important" answered Waskim. "I'll talk to you later."

He walked away from the table, and exited the mess hall. Drake sat there, and began counting. When he reached ten, he followed Waskim, but kept out of sight. He would find out why his old friend was so nervous and why he didn't feel like talking about it.


Long had been in deep meditation by the time Yin came back. To jolt Long out of his reverie, he had given a good, hard punch in the shoulder. Long snapped up to his feet, and Yin looked defensive, insisting, sarcastically, that it was only a playful jab.

Yeah, right thought Long. A playful jab tht could've flipped me backwards onto my head, had I not been waiting for him to do such. (Long had an ability to keep tabs on what is going on around him, even while meditating)

"He's waiting for you" said Yin, motioning for Long to enter the chamber.

Long did so, but kept his gaze on Yin until the doors closed. It wouldn't look good for him to fly head-first into the Buddha's private chambers.

He turned around quickly, and bumped into a candle. He quickly picked it up, and lit it by touching its fuse with another candle's. He began walking inwards toward the chamber when he let out a mild laugh as he realized what he had just done. Twice I come to visit him, twice I make the same entrance.

"Is that you, Little Chan?" asked a chocked voice from the inside. Long approached the middle of the room, and saw the Buddha laying there on his bed. He was pale and withered. "Come closer."

Long did as he was told, and walked right up to the Buddha's bed. The old man reached up and Long took his hand. It was almost weightless.

"Master" said Long.

"Yes" answered the Buddha. "I know why you have come. You may stay, but I don't know what good will come of it. Yin is the head instructor here, and you have proved that you are more powerful than he. What you will learn here, I know not."

"Thank you, Master" said Long. "If there is nothing else. . ."

"Yes, stay with me for a bit" replied the Buddha. "As you can see, I am not well. I do not usually let anyone see me, except for Yin and a select few instructors. You I decided to let because I trust you."

"Thank you, Master. It is an honor" said Long.

"Please, stop calling me that" said the Buddha. "If you must adress me, use my name. The name Buddha will soon no longer apply to me. Call me Cao."

"But. . ." began Long.

"No 'buts'. I estimate my time here to be fleeting. I have an hour at most. Then it will be my son's chance at it. He will take the name 'Buddha', and I will be forgotten. Through him, I live on" said Cao.

"But. . ." started Long.

"Stop!" coughed out Cao. "For once, just listen. I haven't talked to anyone like this, as friends, since Yin became head-instrutor. He was my friend, but he's changed. Not so unlike you. Both of you are alot alike. You're both head-strong and impulsive. You are both talented fighters. Neither of you is an intellectual. I guess that's why you don't get along very well. You are too much alike."

Long let out a slow smile. The Buddha, er, Cao was right. He and Yin were so much alike, it was stunning. It was like him and Radcliffe. They were alike, and mostly, they didn't get along. This man, even in death, probably had more insight than Long ever had.

"That is why I am asking you this: Take him with you. When you leave, bring him. He can do much better than this. And don't stay long. It will not help you at all. I know your uncle wants you to stay for a while, but he is wrong. The best way to hone your skills and to search for your goal is to explore. Not being stuck here.

"My time is fading. I do not wish to die knowing that your skills will go to waste. This trip may have seemed like it was worth nothing, but take into consideration that you now have a strong ally with you. Now go. My time here is short. Even though I lived lonely, I would prefer to die alone."

Long nodded, and turned. He left the room with all the speed he could muster, but without running. As he opened the door, he heard a few gargled coughs, but didn't turn, as he was granting his master his last request.


Drake slipped around a corner, and then hid up against the wall. The dark lighting would make it difficult for Waskim to see him, but he was taking all necessary precautions. Then he saw Waskim walk down a hallway that Drake knew to be a dead-end.

So he waited for a few minutes. After about five minutes of waiting, he crept down the hallway, and turned down the dead-end. . . And nothing was there. He examined the area, but it was bare. He began scraching his chin, comtemplating, when he heard a sound of something sliding, and then he was pulled backwards.

He saw the wall slide back into place, and was about to get up from his place on the floor, when he felt the tip of a sword on his throat. He forced himself not to gulp in fear, then he looked up, following the blade. And what he saw truly horrified him.

The man had open cuts all over his body. He had heavily bandadged ribs, and a nasty scar on his left arm. But the truly horrifying part was his face. Pure, unkept white hair outlined his face. A patch of skin was missing on his right cheek. His forehead was bandadged. His left cheek had a long scar running from forehead to cheek. His nose was bent at an odd angle. One of his regularly emerald green eyes was swollen shut, the other glared an unnatural fiery red. And to top it off, he had the crulest smile on his face.

"Hello, boy" said Loki, the man holding the sword above him. "Remember me?"


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This chapter was posted on August 24, 2000