Chapter 74 – Enlightenment Through Slaps

Mid-Pacific Ocean. Somewhere above Krakoa The clouds parted, and two streaks of green and red danced through the sky. Jack's clones, One (in green hanfu) and Other (in red tang jacket), descended from above on their respective Zephyr clouds, cackling like festive gremlins. As their clouds lowered toward the center of the island, they spotted a chaotic sight.

Main Jack—still barefoot, shirtless, and very much grinning—was in the middle of viciously beating the absolute hell out of a tree. Branches snapped. Bark cracked. The poor thing swayed with every WHACK! of Jack's palm, like it owed him money.

"Ho-ho-ho!" One laughed. "Christmas came early!"

"Heeey!" Jack waved cheerfully, panting a little. "Get down here, ya freeloaders!"

The clones landed, stepping off their clouds and onto the soft ground. One looked around at the grove of now half-traumatized trees. "What in the holy hairy peaches are you doing?"

Jack shrugged, nonchalant. "Oh, just inflicting localized trauma to force our dear disciple here to understand pain management."

From beneath their feet, the island itself groaned. Krakoa's voice echoed through the roots and branches. "I am NOT your disciple."

Both clones cackled in sync. "Not with that attitude!" "Need help?" Other asked.

Jack dusted his hands. "Actually, yes. Inflict pain. Anywhere you like. Until our moldy buddy here learns to decouple emotional reaction from sensory input and gains proper energy control, we're not stopping."

One nodded. "Copy that." He stomped down on the earth like a toddler throwing a tantrum. BAM. Other grinned and chucked a bundled outfit at Jack. "Here. Get dressed, nudist monk."

Jack caught it midair and unwrapped it with flair. Inside was his newest masterpiece, the Jack Clothes 2: Electric Boogaloo—a striking white and yellow hanfu, embroidered with gold thread shaped like swirling clouds and spiraling monkeys. "Oooooh. Tailored madness!" Jack whispered.

While he pulled it on, Other bolted into the treeline and began slapping every tree trunk he passed like he was blessing them with holy punishment. SLAP. SLAP. SLAP. "Wake up, wisdom! Enlightenment through ass-whooping!"

Krakoa's voice boomed again, more desperate. "This is not how training works!!"

"Yes it is!" Jack shouted back. "At least in my lineage!" One continued to stomp on rocks, roots, and whatever moss he could find. Other paused long enough to shout, "We're like spiritual chiropractors! You'll thank us after your third nervous breakdown!"

Jack finished tying his hanfu belt and stretched his arms wide, golden eyes shining with glee. "Alright, Krakoa! You say you wanna grow, but growth hurts. Let the slapping continue!" Krakoa groaned again, the entire island quaking softly under their chaotic energy.

And so, in the middle of paradise, the unlikeliest training arc continued—with an ancient island being spiritually assaulted by three versions of the same chaos demon in human form… all in the name of progress.

…

Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters – Medical Lab

The sun had nearly set, casting a dim golden hue through the reinforced windows of the medical lab. Inside, the atmosphere was tense—heavy. 

Jean Grey stirred beneath the crisp white sheets. A slow, shallow breath. Then, a twitch of her fingers. Her eyelids fluttered open like someone waking from a century of sleep. Her eyes—normally full of light—were cloudy, distant, as if her soul hadn't fully returned. Professor Xavier, Hank, Moira, and Ororo were by her side.

Xavier's eyes softened. "It's normal, Jean," he said calmly. "Collect yourself. Steady your mind. Like I taught you." Jean inhaled, slow. Shaky. Then exhaled.

Ororo stepped forward, her voice gentle but probing. "Is there… anything different you feel?"

Before Jean could answer, Moira cut in. "Ororo, it's too soon. She just woke up—"

"No." Ororo snapped. Her voice cracked. "When, Moira? When is the right time? After another memory gets sealed? After more trust is shattered? It's clearly tied to Jean—and the rest of the kids deserve their memories back."

The room went still. Even the machines seemed to quiet. Ororo's shoulders trembled. Tears welled in her eyes. "I'm sorry…" she whispered, stepping back. "I… I need a moment." Then she turned and left the lab, the doors hissing shut behind her. 

Jean blinked slowly, trying to orient herself. "…Did we win?" she asked weakly. "Against the island?"

Hank's warm smile broke the tension. "Yes. We did. And its name is Krakoa. Thanks to you, we got valuable intel before the second team deployed. And now…" He glanced at Moira. "We're even discussing a cooperation."

Moira nodded. "Let your mind rest, Jean. Your readings are remarkable. Just let us monitor your energy a little longer, alright?"

Jean didn't reply immediately. Her gaze drifted right—to Xavier. He was watching her with the weight of a thousand unsaid words. She smiled. "I did good, right?" she asked, voice faint. "I… I relayed the information in time. Professor?"

Xavier's lips parted. His throat tightened. He wanted to say more. He wanted to confess. But instead… "Yes, Jean," he said, voice low. "You did. Now let your mind sync with your body. Physically, you're stronger than ever. It's your mind that needs time to adjust."

Jean's smile widened, full of innocent pride. "I did it," she whispered. "I saved the team…"

That was the final crack. Xavier couldn't take it anymore. He rolled back from her bedside and exited the room in silence. Out in the corridor, he gripped the wheels of his chair, breathing heavy. The guilt that had haunted him for months finally surged like a dam bursting. How long had she carried that pride… Not knowing what he had done?

Leaning against the hallway wall was Logan, arms crossed, half-empty beer in hand. "You having a panic attack, Chuck?"

Xavier looked up. "Logan…"

Logan didn't move. "I've already decided," he said flatly. "And I agree with Piotr. Until you give back our memories—all of us, including the kids—I won't see you as our leader."

He started to walk off. Then he stopped. "…Did it ever occur to you," Logan said, not turning around, "that I've already had my memories scrambled by God knows who? That my entire life's been a mess of lies, edits, and shadows?" He turned just slightly, his silhouette backlit by the hall light. "And then you added to the pile."

Xavier lowered his gaze. "I can't give them back. Not yet. Not until Jean agrees. Her mind is the key."

Logan stood there a beat longer. "…We know," he said quietly. "And we'll wait." 

Then he left. And Xavier was alone again—with nothing but the sound of his own breath echoing in the hallway.

…

A week had passed since Jean's awakening, and the school's heartbeat was finally returning to its normal rhythm.

In the cafeteria, sunlight danced through the frosted windows. Jean Grey sat at a round table, laughing with Anna Marie, Petra, Suzanne, and a handful of second‑generation X‑kids. Plates clinked, cocoa steamed, and even the ever‑restless Remy LeBeau took a rare moment to relax.

"And that's why you leave out the carrots," Alex Summers declared, finishing his story with dramatic flair. "Santa loves reindeer—carrots are for them!"

The younger mutants—Roberto, Kurt, Jamie, Gabriel, Tenzin, and others—leaned in, eyes wide.

Tenzin piped up, voice jittery with excitement. "Alex… do you really think he's real?"

Alex crouched to eye‑level with Tenzin, voice earnest. "What do you mean? Of course he is. He checks all the chimneys, slides down with a sack of toys, and only leaves presents for the nice kids."

Kurt crossed his arms, rolling his eyes. "Hah. We're not children anymore. How could one man be fast enough to visit every chimney in the world in a single night?"

Before Alex could answer, Remy leaned over from the end of the table, flipping a card between his fingers. "You're missing the point, mon ami. Santa's power isn't speed—it's endurance. The planet's split into twenty‑four time zones. He has a full twenty‑four hours to deliver everywhere. That's how he does it."

A sudden hush fell over the second‑gen. Their jaws dropped in unison. Armando and Calvin laughed from the side, reveling in the spectacle of their friends' wonder.

Meanwhile, across the café, Scott Summers sat in quiet contemplation. His hot cocoa sat untouched—save for the smallest swirl of whipped cream. He watched Jean, Xavier, Hank, and Ororo at a nearby table. They spoke in low tones, but every so often their eyes flickered toward Xavier with something that wasn't quite the gentle warmth Scott remembered.

Something is off, he thought, sipping his cocoa. Jean feels different. The teachers—especially Charles—aren't acting like themselves. He frowned, shaking off the suspicion. It was probably nothing… just stress from the mission.

"Brother, where's my hot cocoa?" Gabriel asked with a grin, plunking himself into the empty chair beside Scott.

Scott looked down and realized his mug was nearly empty. "Oh—sorry, Gabe," Scott said, pushing his mug toward Gabriel. "I… didn't realize this was yours."

Gabriel nodded, picking up the mug and examining the whipped‑cream‑flecked rim. "It's okay, brother. I know you had a rough mission. You could've just asked if you wanted whipped cream on yours."

Scott grinned, ruffling Gabriel's hair. "You're getting cheeky." Gabriel laughed, perfectly content to share the warmth of cocoa and the comfort of family.

But in the back of Scott's mind lingered a quiet worry. He took another sip and watched his friends laugh, determined to trust… but determined, too, to keep watch. The school might feel normal again, but some storms still raged beneath its surface.

…

The soft hum of the Pacific breeze whispered across Krakoa, rustling leaves and blooming petals alike. High above the ground, sitting atop a slow-spinning Zephyr cloud adorned in a bright blue scarf, Jack Hou grinned with easy satisfaction. Below him, the flower-wind form of Krakoa shimmered faintly like a living breeze caught mid-blossom. "You've come far," Jack said, propping his chin on one hand. "Not bad at all, my moldy disciple."

Krakoa's petals shifted, their voice tinged with doubt. "It feels slow… I can only numb a small portion of my senses across the island. Barely an acre."

Jack gave a deep, satisfied sigh. "It is slow," he confirmed, without an ounce of sugarcoating.

Krakoa huffed—wind snapping through the trees like a pout. "Aren't you supposed to encourage me?"

Jack burst into a sharp laugh. "Kekekekeke! Oh please, if I wanted to lie to you, I'd be my master. With my teaching, you should be a damn prodigy by now."

"…Very humble of you."

Jack beamed like a proud delinquent. In a single, smooth motion, he plucked a hair from his head, twirled it between his fingers, and blew gently. Puff— A new clone materialized, identical to Jack down to the cocksure smirk and tousled hair. The only difference, his Zephyr cloud lacked the blue scarf, marking him as a subordinate.

Jack pointed with his staff. "Alright. From now on, you're training with him."

Krakoa recoiled slightly, wind spiraling in a puzzled twist. "Wait—why?"

Jack stretched lazily, feet kicked up on Zephyr. "Because I've got my own journey to go on. Unlike my old fart of a master, I still got room to grow. Kekekekekeke~"

Krakoa turned to the clone. It stared back with the same mischievous gleam and gave a dramatic wave. "You're leaving me already?" Krakoa asked. "What are you even planning to do?"

Jack spun his staff and winked. "Oh, just a little side-quest. Heard rumors about a certain fat old man who used to fly around handing out gifts. Kinda just stopped doing it."

Krakoa tilted its head like a confused bird. "...Okay, goodbye, Jack."

BONK!

The staff came down lightly on Krakoa's head. "Ow! That still hurts!" 

"Don't be so quick to kick your master out the door, sheesh," Jack scolded, grinning. "You're supposed to weep a little or beg me to stay."

"You wouldn't stay even if I did."

"True~"

Krakoa's petals rustled with a laugh of its own. "One last sparring match then, for old time's sake?"

Jack rose from Zephyr, his hanfu fluttering, his staff gleaming with golden energy. "Gladly. Come on, let's see if I trained you well enough to land a hit."

Krakoa surged forward in a gust of wind and petals. Jack met the charge with a wild grin and a spinning leap, staff sweeping through the air like divine retribution. "Come then, Krakoa! Let's see what a week of spiritual beatdowns have taught you!"

And with a flash of flowery wind and gold light, master and disciple clashed once more—an island and its chaos monk, both trying to carve their own path forward.

**A/N**

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**A/N**