The sky over the island was smeared gold. Not from war, for once, but from the setting sun.
A soft wind stirred the palm leaves as drums pounded in rhythm with laughter. Fires danced in clay pits, sending ribbons of smoke into the air, mingling with the scent of grilled fish, turmeric, and the sharp burn of wood oil.
Tonight wasn't for training.
Tonight was for joy.
---
Children of the Korr clan ran barefoot across the dirt paths, chasing each other between stone shrines and water wells. They were all lean, tan, wiry. born from generations of movement, discipline, and blood.
Among them, a boy no older than five ran with his fists balled and his smile wide.
Ashan.
He had the quietest eyes of the group. Even now, excited as he was, they held a kind of stillness. The kind of eyes that see everything and say nothing.
"ASHAN! Get over here, boy! You're gonna miss the toast!"
Ashan turned. His father stood near the main fire, dressed in ceremonial white with a loose sash across his shoulder: tall, sharp-jawed, a warrior with calloused hands but kind eyes.
---
The clan had gathered around him, cheering and clapping, some pounding fists against their chests in honor.
"Our brother," the elder announced, "has been chosen to bring Korr honor beyond these shores!"
A low hum rose.
Then a shout: "TO NEW YORK!"
"TO NEW BEGINNINGS!"
"TO THE KORR NAME!"
Ashan's father raised a clay cup and smiled , a rare sight from a man carved from stone.
"We've guarded this island's bloodline for centuries," he said.
"Now, I go not to run, but to remind the world we exist."
"My son will know both lands, the roots, and the future."
His hand dropped to Ashan's shoulder as the boy stepped beside him.
"This one... he'll be more than Korr. He'll be free."
The flames cracked behind them.
---
Meanwhile... Somewhere in Japan
A ten-year-old boy crushed a wooden dummy with his bare fist, panting.
His master looked on from the shadows.
"Again, Ohma. Control the rage. Feel it, then let it go."
The seeds were being planted.
Ashura. Fang. Tiger's Vessel.
But far away, on an island the world had already forgotten…
The last branch of an ancient tree was about to be replanted, in concrete.
---