Chief Sitting Bull

“Hmmmmm,” A single raindrop landed on Master Gooway’s bald scalp. He looked up to the sky. Dark swirling clouds spun around him threateningly. 

Master Gooway got up and walked to his apartment. No use in trying to finding his child in a tornado. 

He looked around the apartment lobby. The apartment had been renovated recently and had those huge modern glass walls. 

Patter. Patter. Patter. Raindrops smacked against the glass ceiling above Master Gooway.

Master Gooway looked up for the raindrops and saw a portrait of Chief Sitting Bull.

He held the portrait’s gaze for a minute, looked around at all the glass walls and ceilings in the looby, then looked back up to Chief Sitting Bull’s ominous gaze.

Master Gooway let out a heavy breath, looked down, closed his eyes, and finally said to the portrait, “Chief, this is not it.”

He had to make a decision fast, the tornado would arrive soon. So Master Gooway got in the elevator, because there are no windows in an elevator.

Cleo Valentine came in with him. She looked up at him and he looked down at her.

Then, the elevator came to a sudden stop. Master Gooway watched Cleo flail across the elevator like people who ride trains and don’t pay attention to when the train is going to start or stop. Master Gooway though, had been paying attention. He didn’t flinch. He knew the tornado was coming.

Cleo looked up to Gooway, frightened. So he comforted her saying, “Don’t worry, we are not going to die here, not today.”

She asked him how he knew. He told her about his quest to find his child. She offered to help him. He told her to focus on her own quest of finding Leclerc. She asked him how he knew about that. He smiled and she took a picture of him for her wall.

And then they just sat together, but alone, in their world of darkness.

Drunken Advice

  “What are you doing here?” a hammered Tyson asked Master Gooway as he stepped into the town bar, Cece’s Slingers. Gooway was old but he emitted a youthful, powerful aura. Each movement he made felt as if it had a purpose to it. 

   “I was looking for the town drunk, and I believe I have found him,” Master Gooway answered calmly as he pulled up a chair next to Tyson. 

   “And why were you looking for me?” Tyson asked, kind of scared, kind of offended. 

   “I need you,” Master Gooway said staring into the souls of Tyson’s eyes, “for what you know. For what you have done.”

   Tyson jumped to his feet, “I have no idea what you’re talking about!” he yelled defensively. 

   Master Gooway chuckled to himself, and patted Tyson’s seat, encouraging him to sit back down.

“Relax, I just need some advice and there is nobody better to go to for advice than the town drunk,” Tyson slowly slunk back into his chair not taking his eyes off the old man, “You are invisible to people who try to ignore and forget you out of their lives. But you hear everything. You see everything. You are the wisest man in Pointe Place.”

   A slight smile crept up Tyson’s face. He took a sip of his Jim Beam bourbon. It had been a while since he’d gotten a compliment, “Well, tell me what you need,” he said. 

   “I am trying to find somebody,” Gooway explained, “I don’t know what they look like but they should be in their 20’s now.” Tyson looked around the bar. It was a Monday morning, and nobody was there but them and the bartender, busy cleaning shot glasses from Sunday night. 

   “Well whenever I need help finding something, I go to the library,” Tyson drunkenly advised Gooway, “they’ve got so many resources there. Books, computers, and the Librarians are great!”

   “Of course. Thanks for the help,” Master Gooway threw Tyson a twenty, “A token of my appreciation.” He gave Tyson a wink and left.

Arrival

“Master Oogway?” the Uber driver said, “We are here.”

“It’s Master Gooway,” the old man said as he stepped out the door of the Honda Civic,
“You must have me confused with someone else.” Pink lights of an apartment building's vacancy
sign flash across his wizened eyes like the leaves of old sensei Fishu’s cherry blossom tree.

Fishu stood waiting for a young Gooway outside the family shrine.

“Your father,” Fishu began, “was a man with respect for The Way. Because of that no man could
touch him,” Fishu paced behind Gooway. “So it makes sense then, that the only thing that could kill him
was a disease,” Fishu thrusted a curtain to the side revealing four blades. “Your family is cursed, on your
sixtieth birthday you will die just as your father has and everyone else in your family. For now I will teach
you The Way and when the time comes will be buried here,” Fishu gestured to family shrine, “and your
blade will be hung here.”

The old Master Gooway sat down on the bed of his new apartment in Pointe Place and helpfully
reflected aloud. “Fishu said I would find my child here. I will not neglect my child on my deathbed as
my father neglected me.