Master Fung had no reason to doubt Dojo's sense of direction. The dragon had lived for at least fifteen centuries and had traveled the world thousands of times before; surely he knew what he was doing. Still, when the two landed in a barren field in Texas, populated only by a thick herd of cattle, the elder could not help but look around and ask, "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely," Dojo said, even while he frowned in confusion at the wall of cows. "There's definitely a potential Xiaolin Dragon of Earth… somewhere around here. I can sense it."

Master Fung slid down from the dragon and peered around, eyebrows furrowed and fingers clasped tightly together. Dojo shrank, slithered onto his shoulders, and elbowed lightly at his neck. "What are you worried about, ol' blue eyes? You couldn't have asked for easier pickings—there's barely anyone out here! The chances of you getting it wrong are—"

Master Fung reached up and clamped the dragon's jaws together. "Thank you, Dojo." His own mouth pressed into a thin line. Xiaolin Dragons had not been chosen in his lifetime; this was completely new territory for him. And though there may be a thousand lessons in defeat, he could not afford to make a single error. The stakes were far too high.

Wriggling out of the elder's grip, Dojo smirked. "I mean, you figured out Omi's potential, didn't you? Even before those weird little dots popped up on his head—"

The tension in Master Fung's shoulders eased a bit, and his mouth curved upward. Omi had latched onto Master Fung the moment they'd found him orphaned and lost at the temple doorstep. ("Imprinted like a baby duck," Dojo had joked.) Bright, talented, and so very eager to please, Omi's potential as a Xiaolin Dragon was obvious to anyone who met him.

The elder shook his head. "We did not have to find Omi; he found us."

"Lucked out on that one, didn't we?" Dojo nodded and pointed at a barn out on the horizon. "But I'm betting his first teammate will be easy pickings!"


"What kinda hogwash are you talkin' 'bout?" Mr. Bailey let the hay bale drop from his arms with a loud thud while he turned to stare down at Master Fung. "I reckon that sun has been bakin' that bald head o' yours, old timer."

Master Fung opened his mouth to continue his well-rehearsed explanation, but Dojo chose the moment to pop out of his sleeves and say, "Hey! Watch your mouth, big guy!" Mr. Bailey took a step back, mouth opening and closing a few times, and Master Fung sighed. Though Dojo's interjection was not exactly welcome, it certainly saved him some time to prove the existence of mystical forces beyond the Texan man's understanding.

"As I was saying," the elder murmured calmly, pushing Dojo back into his sleeve, "we believe that one of your children may have the potential to join the Xiaolin Temple." He glanced past Mr. Bailey and studied the three younger Baileys in question. While the oldest son seemed preoccupied at the pig pen, the other two wandered over to their father's side and gawked at the strangely dressed newcomer.

"So what'll we be doin' at this super special monk school?" the girl asked skeptically, drumming her fingers on her jeaned hips. Though she hid it well under her annoyed glare, Master Fung sensed disquiet in the girl, almost like she didn't seem comfortable in her own skin. Her long blonde hair was stuffed under her hat like it embarrassed her, and she rubbed at her mouth as if she hated the lipstick on it.

"Well, Miss Bailey—"

"Jessie."

"Jessie, your duties at the Xiaolin Temple would be unique and extraordinary. You will battle against the forces of evil, who may take any shape or form. You would certainly gather strength of your own, both from the weapons you wield and the power within you, but I must emphasize—" He glanced back up at the father, "this duty is incredibly dangerous."

The younger son snickered at the word "duty." Master Fung ignored him. Instead his gaze drifted back toward the older son in the background, who had quietly taken over his father's task of stacking the hay bales, occasionally glancing over at them but not speaking.

"So y'all're sayin' this'd be a full-time gig?" Jessie asked, eyebrow raised. "I'd have to leave home?"

"You would, indeed." Master Fung watched the father for any reaction, but Mr. Bailey still looked too flabbergasted at Dojo's existence to pay much attention.

Jessie, on the other hand, visibly perked up. "So how'd'ya pick who gets the job?"

The younger son stepped in front of her. "I reckon y'all need a strong hero type! I'm your fella, that's for sure!"

"Oh, sod off, Pat," the sister snarled, pushing him out of her way. "They need brawn and brains, and there ain't been a thought in your head since third grade!"

A chorus of barks and distressed bellows cut through the siblings' squabble, and Master Fung glanced toward the paddock behind the barn. A cow and her calf pressed in terror against the fence, cornered by a barking German shepherd whose broken chain still dangled from its neck. At the sounds, the oldest son dropped his bale and broke into a run toward the paddock. Mr. Bailey muttered dazedly, "Uh, Pat, your dog broke out again- a daggum talkin' lizard-"

"He can wait, Pa!" Completely ignoring the noise, the younger son puffed out his chest and stood as high as he could over his sister. "Why would anyone pick a lil lady like you to fight evil when I can-"

"I ain't a lil lady!" Jessie shouted. "There ain't nothin' dainty 'bout me! I can take you down right here! Ready to lose to a girl in front o' your old man?"

Finally gathering his wits again, Mr. Bailey spun around to scowl at the paddock. "Jessie, Pat, your crazy dog-"

The oldest son leaped clear over the fence just as the calf broke into a panicked run. The dog charged, but before it could reach its prey, the oldest son snatched its collar and yanked it around, dodging snapping jaws. "Now y'all know that ain't a fair fight, partner!" he yelled, dragging the dog back.

Master Fung's eyebrows rose. "Who is that?"

Jessie looked back at her big brother, and her expression darkened immediately. "You gotta be kiddin' me-"

"That's just Clay." Pat waved a dismissive hand. "He ain't no hero- just Daddy's special lil protégé, gonna inherit the ranch-"

"You hush your mouth, Pat," Mr. Bailey snapped.

Meanwhile, Clay dragged the dog to the fence and tied it to a post, expression calm even while the dog chomped down on his fingers and the cow ran in circles, threatening to run him over. Master Fung strolled toward the chaos, no longer listening to the bickering of the two younger siblings, who showed absolutely no concern for their big brother's safety. Mr. Bailey ran past Master Fung and hollered, "Git outta there, boy, before Bessie knocks ya flat-"

Clay did not holler back. After securing the dog, he turned to face the panicked cow, who nearly slammed into her own terrified calf in her effort to escape the barking. "Easy, Bessie," Clay said, stepping forward with his hands out, "I reckon you don't wanna hurt lil Billy, he's mighty frightened-"

"Boy! Git outta there!"

"Can't let her hurt the calf, Daddy," Clay said, voice still low and calm while he approached the cow, who panted and stomped her feet, pressed into the fence. "Easy, Bessie, you're just spooked, nothin' wrong with that." The cow tossed her head and bellowed, the whites in her eyes gleaming, but against Clay's unthreatening presence, her breathing slowed.

Master Fung didn't realize he had been smiling, not until Clay reached the cow, patted at her shivering hide, and gently grabbed her halter. After a moment, Bessie sniffed and nibbled at his sleeve. The calf hobbled to its mother's side, and Clay scratched its ears.

Mr. Bailey shook his head as if torn between pride and exasperation, and then he pointed at the barking dog and shouted, "Pat! What'd I say 'bout your daggum mutt?" While his youngest son meekly snatched up the dog's chain and dragged it from the paddock, Mr. Bailey took a deep breath and turned to Master Fung. "So. This fancy school o' yours. Y'all say it'll teach my kid to fight? How to be a man?"

Master Fung took a moment to ponder over his word choice. "Yes, among other things."

Mr. Bailey watched his oldest son and drummed his fingers on his belt for a moment. Then, studying the elder far less flippantly than before, he said, "Well then, Mister Fung, maybe your tale 'bout all that mystical nonsense is worth hearin', at least. Why don't you and I have a lil talk inside?"

Master Fung would have much preferred to speak to Clay himself, but he nodded in agreement anyway. The two men made their way toward the farmhouse, and Clay watched them go, eyebrows furrowed in puzzlement.


Author's note:

In case it's unclear, "Pat" is Patty, Clay's little brother from Xiaolin Chronicles. Though I certainly don't consider the reboot "canon" to the original show, I saw no harm in throwing him in.

Feel free to critique; I haven't written a good ol' fanfic in months, and I'm pretty sure I've gotten rusty. XD