SmilinKujo
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Chapter 75 – A Blooming Farewell
🕑 Added 2025-04-23 09:56:50 +0000 UTCBOOM—
The echo of the final blow still vibrated through the island's roots, shaking the peach blossoms and rustling the wind in odd, chaotic rhythms.
What was once a lush, organized terrain of flora now resembled a battlefield. Trees were bent sideways, vines slouched like drunkards, and parts of the land had reshaped into spirals, loops, and half-formed spirals that didn't even know what shape they wanted to be.
At the center of it all floated a lone figure, legs crossed casually on a swirling Zephyr cloud.
Jack Hou grinned wildly, his hanfu fluttering in the breeze, Ruyi Jingu Bang lazily resting across his shoulders like a king lounging after a war. "Kekekekeke… you're a hundred years too early to try and beat me, Krakoa."
Below, the battered but not broken wind-flower form of Krakoa tried to regather itself. It twisted upright with a pained rustle and spoke, voice winded but steady. "Yeah, sure. But admit it—I almost got you."
Jack tilted his head, stretching, pretending to think. "Mmm… sure. If you count 'almost grazing the thread of my sleeve' as a win."
Silence settled between them. The wind softened. The sea beyond the island's edge hummed gently in the distance.
Then, quietly, Jack exhaled. His smile remained, but something gentler threaded through it. "It's not goodbye, y'know. My clone's staying behind. You'll still have guidance."
Krakoa shimmered in place, flickering like petals caught in a breeze. For a moment, he couldn't speak. "…Thanks," he finally said, voice raw. "You've helped me more in one week than I've done for myself over centuries. And I'll always be grateful for that, Jack."
Jack's gaze softened. His usual cocky tone lowered, just for this. "I, too, am proud to be your master… my flowery friend."
Then, in a fluid gesture that held the grace of ages past, Krakoa bowed.
His form shimmered and bent respectfully, a proper student's salute to a wild, impossible teacher. "Master," Krakoa said.
Jack stood on Zephyr, hand lifted in farewell. "Keep growing. But remember to mess up your branches sometimes. That's what makes you interesting."
He turned toward the open skies. "Oi!" Jack shouted to his clone, who hovered lazily nearby on his own cloud. "Make sure that deal with the X-people goes smoothly, yeah?"
The clone gave a two-finger salute. "Of course. I'll personally make sure we swindle them real good, kekekekeke~!"
"Attaboy." And then—Jack took off. No dingy boat this time. No drifting in fog. Just sky. He soared upward with Zephyr, the cloud's blue scarf fluttering behind it like a banner. The sunlight hit him from behind, bathing him in gold. He looked up at the horizon, arms wide open to the sky. "KEKEKEKEKEKE—!!" His laughter boomed through the heavens, an echoing, vibrant farewell, impossible to miss. Like thunder wrapped in joy.
Back on Krakoa, the island responded with a rumble of warmth. From the center of the land, a giant hand made of earth and vines rose, open-palmed, and waved goodbye—slow and strong. Krakoa didn't speak. He didn't need to. His island, his soul, had changed. And so had his master.
…
Kathmandu, Nepal.
The night air was crisp, humming with the faint sound of wind chimes and temple bells. Most of the students of Kamar-Taj were either deep in meditation or curled beneath thick woolen blankets, their minds at ease under mystic protection. But not all minds rested.
Beneath a blossoming bodhi tree, in the courtyard touched by moonlight, sat Yao, the Ancient One. His slender fingers curled around a porcelain cup, steam rising lazily from the hot tea within. He sat cross-legged beside a small, low table, letting the warmth of the cup soak into his hands, while the cold wind of the Nepalese highlands teased the hem of his robes.
Above, the stars shimmered over the sacred city. Then, with a beat of wings—A raven landed silently across the table. Its feathers shimmered unnaturally under the moonlight. Its eyes glowed for a moment—then rolled white. Yao glanced at it "Good night, Muninn."
Its beak opened. And it spoke not with the sound of a bird, but with the voice of a god. "It is Huginn, not Muninn, Yao."
The Ancient One chuckled softly, not even glancing up. "You know I don't care," he said, sipping his tea.
A beat of silence. The raven's eyes dimmed to their glowing stare. "You sound… more cheerful than usual," said Odin All-Father, his voice echoing through his familiar. "Is there something that makes you happy?"
Yao finally looked up, meeting the raven's ghost-white gaze. "The future."
The All-Father did not reply to that. "What brings you here?" Yao continued, voice light but sharp. "Aren't Vishnu and Zeus keeping you busy enough?"
Odin sighed through the bird, the feathers rustling with the weight of politics and prophecy. "It's because of that young god. Jack Hou."
The corner of Yao's mouth twitched. "Tired of blaming other pantheons for your own incompetence, All-Father? Now you're blaming hatchling gods?"
"You know as well as I do," Odin said gravely, "it's only a matter of time before the other pantheons vote to retract the agreement. Zeus is already rallying for it."
Yao's gaze sharpened. "Not while I'm alive."
"And how long will that be?"
Yao turned his head slowly, fixing the raven with a calm, challenging smile. "Long enough. I can still take on several pantheons if I have to."
Odin grumbled. "That's precisely why I'm still trying to convince Vishnu not to side with Zeus."
The wind picked up. Yao sipped his tea again. Then—without looking—he asked, "What really brings you here? This isn't about treaties or pantheon councils."
Odin was silent for a moment. Then finally, with the voice of a weary father. "I've come to ask your permission."
Yao raised a brow. "Oh?"
"To use Earth… as a stage," Odin said. "To teach my son a lesson."
Yao blinked once. Then again. He set down his cup with an audible clink. "Loki?"
"No." Odin's voice firmed. "Thor."
Yao leaned back, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "Alright," he said at last. "Let's hear your proposition."
…
Somewhere over the snowy North Pacific, under a sky of scattered starlight and wind-swept clouds, a lone figure rode the heavens.
Jack Hou, the self-proclaimed chaos monk and prince of crime, stood tall atop his cloud companion, Zephyr—its long, trailing blue scarf flapping behind like a war banner of foolishness and freedom. His arms stretched wide. His robes fluttered. And his voice—oh gods, his voice—boomed with questionable lyrics and even more questionable confidence.
🎶 "At the North Pole...
Where the candy canes grow...
To Santa's home I dare not go...
For if I do... Santa will say...
Did you ever see an elf, fucking on a shelf—" 🎶
FWOP—The cloud beneath him jerked slightly, almost tossing him off. "HEY!" Jack barked, catching his balance. "That's the real lyric, I swear!" Zephyr shook furiously, clearly offended.
Jack cackled anyway, eyes glowing gold with amusement. "Kekekekeke~ What? I'm already on the Naughty List. I killed Kingpin."
He flopped dramatically onto the cloud, arms spread. Then—something sparked. He sat up sharply. Eyes wide. "THAT'S IT." A gust of wind blew his hair back as a wicked grin split his face. "We find the Naughty List Book… and ERASE MY NAME."
Zephyr jolted midair. "Oh come on," Jack said, nudging the cloud with his toe. "It's genius! The fat man won't have a choice—he'll have to give me presents."
Zephyr spun once, hesitating. "Too late, cloud buddy," Jack said, leaping to his feet with fiery glee. "You're already an accomplice in this crime against Christmas."
"Let's GOOOOOOO!"
With a howl of manic joy and wind at their backs, the cloud surged forward, tearing through night air like a comet gone rogue.
Jack raised his Ruyi Jingu Bang to the sky, eyes blazing with mischief. "NAUGHTY LIST? I AM THE NAUGHTY LIST!" His laughter echoed into the cold, echoing across skies and snow-covered waves, the kind of laugh that let the universe know. Holiday peace was officially under siege.
…
Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters was wrapped in a thick winter hush.
Snow blanketed the grounds outside, falling in big, fluffy flakes that shimmered softly in the moonlight. Inside, the dorms were quiet. The kids—Generation Two—were finally asleep, bellies full of cocoa and heads full of dreams about Santa and Danger Room glory.
But one soul remained awake.
Scott Summers stood before the glowing light of the open refrigerator, staring inside like it held the answers to the universe. "Hmm…" he muttered. "Should I eat cereal this late? I did nearly get nuked last week…"
He reached for the milk anyway. With a shrug, he poured himself a generous bowl of Frosted Mutie Flakes (limited edition, naturally), grabbed a spoon, and took a massive bite. BZZZ—His wrist communicator buzzed. He checked it, blinking as he saw the caller ID.
[CHARLES XAVIER – LIVE LINE]
He hesitated, chewing. "Uhh… Professor?"
"Scott," came Xavier's voice, quiet but firm. "Can you come to the meeting room?"
"At this time of night?" Scott glanced toward the clock.
"Yes."
"…Okay, sure."
The call cut. Scott sighed, grabbed the cereal bowl, and headed down the hallway, spoon still in his mouth. Snow drifted past the windows, casting glowing shadows through the halls. Halfway to the meeting room, he ran into Remy LeBeau strolling in his usual casual gait, trench coat hanging loose.
"Oh hey, Remy," Scott said through a mouthful of cereal. "Haven't gone to bed yet?"
"Professor called," Remy replied, stuffing his hands in his coat. "You too?"
"Yeah."
"What do you think it's about?"
Scott scooped another spoonful and shrugged. "I'm just as clueless as you."
Remy smirked. "Ain't you supposed to be our leader?"
Scott snorted and muttered. "Fuck you."
They both laughed, letting the warmth of shared exhaustion ease the tension. As they arrived at the meeting room, Remy reached out to open the door. And inside—Everything shifted. The casualness slipped away like fog under a spotlight.
Inside the room sat Charles Xavier, calm but unreadable. Beside him stood Jean Grey, posture rigid but composed, her hands folded in front of her like she was bracing herself. Around them, seated messily in various mismatched chairs, were the senior team and teachers.
Ororo, face unreadable. Hank, arms crossed, tired eyes behind his glasses. Logan, leaned in a corner, expression blank. Alex, sitting sideways, foot tapping nervously. Colossus, stone-faced, massive arms resting in his lap. Moria, arms folded, gaze sharp.
Scott stood in the doorway, still holding his cereal spoon halfway to his mouth. He blinked, then slowly stepped in. "Okay… what's going on? Why are we all here?"
Alex looked over his shoulder, then back toward the front. "Professor said to wait."
Scott didn't press further. He quietly slid into an empty chair and kept eating, the gentle clink of spoon against ceramic the only sound in the room.
Comments
Vrael333
Thx for the chapter :)
edu rodeiro
I believe this is the first time I have seen such an interaction between Odin and ancient one and it makes so much sense of him to ask for permission
