Tiger (11 page)

Fu's eyes widened. He crept out from behind the tree and approached the back side of the pile.

“Yes, it certainly is a shame,” said the first man, swallowing. “You don't suppose this killer monk is a friend of that Major Ying? I heard he was once a monk, too, and I know for a fact he's the most evil
creature to walk our countryside in generations.”

“You never know, you never know,” said the second man.

“I bet they're friends. This killer monk is probably trying to make a name for himself, just like that Major Ying has. What is this world coming to? I would do just about anything to stop that Major Ying. He's a villain if I ever saw one.”

“Indeed, indeed.”

Fu's face flushed. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. He eased his way around the garbage pile.

“Well, are you ready to help me dump this?” the first man asked. “Or are you going to just stand around all day jabbering? I've got things to do and—”

Fu approached the men. He had to say something.

The first man twitched, dropping his apple. It landed in a large cart overflowing with food. “Who …who …who are you?” he asked, staring at Fu's orange robe.

Fu glanced at the cart, then looked the man in the eye. “I am Fu.”

“F-F-Fu?” the man replied nervously. “That's Cantonese, right? Doesn't it mean ‘tiger'?”

“Yes,” Fu replied.

“You're a t-t-tiger?”

“Sometimes,” Fu said. “Other times I'm a regular person. A person who makes mistakes. I have made a mistake, and I've come to apologize. Don't be nervous.”

Fu's eyes wandered back to the cart, then he
looked at the second man. The man shuffled his feet.

Fu cleared his throat. “I am the monk who attacked the boy, but I am not a vicious killer, and I'm not a friend of Ying's. I can prove it.”

“That's okay! That's okay!” said the second man, backing away.

“I'm not going to harm you,” Fu said. He raised his empty hands above his head. “Please listen. I attacked the boy and the hunters in the forest out of anger. I was angry that they killed a mother tiger. I made a big mistake by hitting the boy, and I've come to apologize. If you would be so kind as to take me to him, I would be very grateful. So grateful that I'll share a secret with you. Not only am I not a friend of Ying's, but I also want to stop him. And I have just thought of a plan to do it. You see, I have something that he wants very badly. We could use it as bait to set a trap. What do you think?”

The second man didn't respond. Fu turned to the first man.

“Aaah … people don't usually let me think around here,” the first man said. “The Governor, on the other hand—he is very good at thinking. Why don't my friend and I go get him? You can wait here. I've noticed you eyeing the food. Why don't you have some? Have it all, in fact. We were just going to dump it, anyway.”

Fu leaned toward the cart and his mouth watered. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. Take your time. Enjoy. It will be a little
while before we find the Governor and bring him here. Relax. I only wish I had some drink to offer you.”

“You are too kind,” Fu said in his most polite voice. “Please don't fret about the drink. You already do me too many favors. I will wait here for your return.”

“Good idea, good idea,” the second man said, nodding. “We'll be back, we'll be back.”

The two men turned and walked swiftly toward the village.

Fu strutted up to the cart, proud of himself. He'd handled himself like a perfect gentleman and look what it had gotten him! A fine meal and a meeting with the Governor. What luck! Who would have guessed the Governor lived in this very village? If he could win the favor of the Governor, the Gentleman and his son would be sure to forgive him. Plus, if the Governor felt the same way the two villagers did about Ying, he could ask the Governor to help him set a trap.

As Fu reveled in his good fortune, he began to think about the tiger cub. He wished it had stayed with him. They could be enjoying this food together right now.

Fu rummaged through the cart, and his heart leaped. It was filled with delicacies he rarely encountered: beef, pork, lamb, duck, goose, fish, and, best of all, chicken. Buddhist monks were normally not allowed to eat any type of meat, but the warrior
monks of Cangzhen had been granted special permission by a powerful emperor hundreds of years earlier. Still, it was rare when any type of meat made its way onto the Cangzhen dining table. Fu dug in.

Quite some time passed, and Fu had finished nearly half the food in the cart when he heard a twig snap behind the pile.
Could that be the cub?
he wondered. It had to be! The villagers would have come from the other direction. Fu was so excited, he nearly dropped the whole roast chickens he held, one in each hand. Engorged, he waddled around the pile to share his good fortune. Fu kept one eye on the tree line looking for the cub and the other on the two slippery chickens. He should have kept both eyes on the tree line. By the time Fu saw the net, it was too late.

“
W
hat do they feed it?” the boy asked his mother.

“I have no idea,” she said.

“Well, they put it in a cage built for a tiger, right? So maybe they feed it chickens. I heard all tigers love chicken.”

“He's a monk, dear. Monks don't eat meat.”

“He's
a vegetarian? He's
huge!
What did they feed him at the temple,
trees?”

Fu growled at the boy through the bars of the bamboo cage. The boy squealed and ran off. His mother shook her head and walked away after him. But another child stepped right up with a parent in tow. And so it continued as the sun sank in the distance, a seemingly endless parade of people
walking past the large cage in the village square. The line was so long, it ran past the bun vendor's shop— the only building visible through the thick wall of bushes and trees that lined the perimeter of the square.

The villagers had come to see the vicious killer monk. It was said he'd put up quite a fight after they'd caught him in the heavy net near the village dump. Men were clawed. Bones were broken. Still, the young wildcat was no match for twenty men and a net. Eventually, they'd restrained him and taken four ancient scrolls from the folds of his robe. Once the men had the scrolls, all the fight went out of the young monk. From that point on, he had been a pussycat.

“I'm not afraid of him!” announced the next boy in line. His name was Ma. He was twelve years old, but he looked like he was at least fourteen or fifteen. He was huge. His hair was long, thick, and unruly. His eyes were like stone. Ma stared at Fu and rolled up the sleeves of his tattered gray robe. Fu stared back.

Ma picked up a rock and threw it at Fu, who sat cross-legged with the backs of his hands resting on his knees, his palms open to the heavens. Fu's right hand flew up and caught the rock a fraction of a second before it hit his head. He slowly lowered his hand back to his knee, the rock resting peacefully in his open palm. The entire time, Fu's head had remained straight, his chin perpendicular to the ground. His eyes never strayed from Ma's.

“Oh, you think you're tough?” Ma asked. “Catch this!” He gathered several rocks and unleashed them all simultaneously in Fu's direction. Fu's left arm remained relaxed while his right arm became a blur of motion, stopping as abruptly as it had started. When Fu returned his hand to his knee and opened his fingers, several rocks rolled out. Fu's eyes never wavered from Ma's.

Ma was amazed, but also infuriated.

“That's it!” Ma yelled. “I'll kick your fat—”

“Enough!” shouted a familiar voice. The long line of children and parents broke up as the Gentleman from the forest approached with his son trailing behind.

“Go home, all of you!” the Gentleman shouted. “You should have more important things to do than waste your time eyeing a beast in a cage!”

As the crowd dispersed, the Gentleman's son sat on the ground, far from the cage. The Gentleman approached Ma, his rich green robe shimmering in the evening light. The Gentleman glared at Ma.

“I saw that,” he said.

“I'm sorry, Governor,” Ma replied softly. He looked away.

Governor?
Fu thought.
Oh, no!

“You should be sorry,” the Governor said. “Nothing good comes to people who act the way you just did.”

Ma put his head down. The Governor put his hand on Ma's shoulder and lowered his voice. “Listen,
would you do me a small favor? Could you please keep Ho occupied while I talk to the animal in the cage? Ho isn't feeling too well, understandably.”

“Sure,” Ma whispered. He walked over to Ho's side and sat down. Ma playfully punched one of Ho's skinny arms. Ho ignored him. Ma smiled and leaned over to whisper in one of Ho's ears, then stopped. He scooted over to Ho's other side and whispered into that one instead.

The Governor turned toward Fu.

“So, Beast Child,” he said. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

Fu lowered his eyes. “I am sorry, sir. I am very truly sorry, and I wish to apologize to your son.”

“Do you, now?” the Governor replied. “And what purpose would that serve?”

“Aaah …,” Fu said, looking up. “Perhaps it will make him feel better?”

“Perhaps it will make
him
feel better, you say? Do you really think so?”

“I suppose so,” Fu replied. “Sure. I know it would make me feel a lot better.”

“Ah, yes,” the Governor said. “It is all about
you,
is it not?”

“Please, sir,” Fu said. “I only wish to apologize. That's why I came here. To apologize and to tell you about the scrolls. Also, I think I was meant to come here. The men I spoke to at the waste pile said that they wanted to get rid of Major Ying. I do, too, and I have a plan! If we use the scrolls as bait, we could—”

“Stop!” said the Governor, raising his hand. “There is no point in talking further. I have already sent messengers to Major Ying. I have promised the scrolls to him, and I am a man of my word.”

“What?” Fu cried. He grabbed the bamboo bars. “Are you crazy?”

“Watch your mouth, young man!” the Governor said, leaning forward. “Do you not realize to whom you are speaking?”

“I do … I'm sorry … it's just that you don't seem to understand … you don't realize that—”

“I only need to realize one thing,” the Governor said, turning away from Fu. “You put us in much danger. You attacked my men and my son unprovoked, and you have a habit of stealing things from important people like Major Ying. If you were to stay here, who knows what you might steal from me? Major Ying has asked for the return of his scrolls and your capture. He reports directly to the Emperor, so it is my duty to honor his wishes.”

“No!” cried Fu. “You can't! Those scrolls aren't even his! He tried to steal them from Cangzhen Temple!
My
temple! If you would just listen to me, you'll see that—”

The Governor spun back toward Fu. “That is enough, young man! I see only as far as the region I govern, and you bring trouble to my region. Therefore, you must go. And now, so must I.”

The Governor turned to his son. “Come,” he said. “It's time to go home, Ho.”

And with that, the Governor turned and walked away, his son at his side.

“Please, wait!” Fu cried out. “I thought you were a good man! I have more to say!”

But no one listened.

A
t first, Fu thought he was seeing things. Darkness had begun to settle in, and he was under a lot of stress. Perhaps his mind was playing tricks on him. But— there it was again! Across the square a huge basket of rice seemed to move. And then it stood!

In front of the bun vendor's shop, a large, heavyset man lifted the battered remnants of an old rice basket off his head and shoulders. Fu realized he must have sat down and covered himself with it to keep dew from forming on him as night set in. Fu hadn't noticed it there before.

The big man swayed slightly. Long tangles of matted black hair hung partway down his back and forward over his face, intertwined with his long,
scraggly beard. His pants and robe were filthy. The man raised his beefy arms and stretched, yawning. Then he began to stumble forward, as though drunk. He stopped several paces from Fu's cage and stood there, weaving back and forth. He stared at Fu between strands of hair. Fu thought he saw something familiar in the man's eyes, but he wasn't sure what.