Even the loud cascading water of Warrior Falls could not mask the sound of footsteps on rocks. A perk of being the Panther. So when a certain former member of the Dora Milaje appeared behind her, Shuri did not have to turn and look back over her shoulder to verify. She remained sitting on the edge of a rocky outcrop, legs dangling over a crystalline pool of shallow water. "If you're here to vent about your new suit, Okoye, your very long list of edits is still underway," said Shuri, keeping her eyes straight ahead. The golden horizon made the reservoir shimmer.
"It is not my suit I am concerned about. At least, not today." Okoye went to Shuri's side, and this close, Shuri not only breathed in her faint, reassuring scent of steel and lotus flower, but she could hear her heartbeat. Another Panther Perk that felt less like an advantage and more of an annoyance. She heard not only the heartbeats of humans but the ancient thrumming of elephants, the flitting ones of birds. Sometimes, she wondered what her heartbeat had sounded like to her late brother, T'Challa. She knew it couldn't be like Okoye's, whose heart's drum beat as resonant and steady as the tama, speaking to her in a powerful but welcoming rhythmic language only she could understand. For the first time in days, Shuri felt the tensed Panther Spirit inside her head ease.
"Then what is it, Okoye?"
"You. If you wanted to challenge for the throne, I'm afraid you are a few weeks late. Though still fully within your rights."
Shuri looked down, twisted the Kimoyo beads on her wrist. She had programmed them off so that no one, not even Griot, could reach her. "I did not come here to challenge for the throne."
"Then why are you here?"
Shuri furrowed her brows. She did not know the exact reason. She hated Warrior Falls, actually. As a child, she'd always associated it with being forced to wear itchy ensembles or watch boring fights. That is, until a few years ago, when T'Challa fought M'Baku and N'Jadaka here. She now thought of Warrior Falls as the place her brother not only once, but twice nearly died in. So why did it beckon her so?
"Okoye. Do you ever think of your tribe? Before you left it?"
Okoye sat beside her. Being that she was not in her Midnight Angels suit and no longer a Dora, she wore casual Wakandan wear. A sight Shuri was still getting used to. "Of course I do. I come from a long line of shepherds and farmers. But do not be fooled, as The Border Tribe was and still is Wakanda's first line of defense. We obliterated any threat before they had a chance to even feast their terroristic eyes upon Wakanda's protective barrier. We've earned our bragging rights, as your Americans say." Okoye bumped her shoulder against Shuri's, teasing a small smile out of her. Okoye's voice softened as she sank further into memory. "My father used to grow the sweetest yellow yam. Better than W'Kabi's, but do not tell him I said that. And my mother. . . she sang me songs full of stories about the king's personal protectors, instilling in me the dream of becoming a part of the Dora. After their spirits answered Bast's call, I decided to make that dream come true."
I'm so sorry the dream doesn't exist anymore, Shuri wanted to say, but couldn't bring herself to. She blamed herself for Okoye no longer holding the title of general. But Okoye often assured that she had let go of the position and was ready to move on to the something more. "I do not understand, Okoye. Why must violence always be the price we pay for transformation? For progress?"
"Hm." Okoye tilted her head, thoughtful. For the first time in her life, Shuri saw shadows of black hair peeking through her tatted scalp. "Is this why M'Baku sits on the throne now, instead of you?"
"My father sat on the throne only to die. My brother sat on the throne only to die. And my mother, just the same. That throne is cursed." Shuri's voice was as bitter as heart-shaped herb tea.
"Cursed? I thought scientists such as you did not believe in curses."
"I've visited the Ancestral Plane. I—I have senses," said Shuri, struggling to explain the black-furred soul trapped in her mind, "that tread the world beyond physics. What I believe in, I am no longer sure."
Okoye turned and took hold of Shuri's hands. She rubbed her callused thumbs over Shuri's tattooed skin. "I've served under many Panthers, and from them I've learned that Wakanda's Protector is never alone. The herb is always there for you, if you are ever in need of ancestral guidance."
Shuri stood up, so quick, a cat alerted to danger. "Taking the herb is not an option for me."
Okoye stood with her, pose straight, electric, determined. "How, when it has been this way since Bashenga?"
"Because of who I saw, the first time I went there." Shuri swallowed hard. The first and only time she'd went there. She backed away from the rock's edge. The Panther Spirit growled, paced in its cage.
Okoye took hold of her arm. "And who did you see? What troubles you, my sister?"
Shuri's dark eyes shone. She'd never admitted this to anyone, not even Nakia. "My cousin. I saw my cousin, and only him."
Silence. As deafening as the Falls. The wind blew at them. It was only until Okoye spoke that Shuri realized it was not a surprised silence, but rather one where Okoye was waiting for Shuri to explain. When she did not, Okoye quirked an eyebrow. "And what have you learned from it?"
"I. . . learned?"
"Yes." Okoye circled Shuri. Even without her spear, she looked like a warrior. The water shifted around their ankles as if it, too, were intimidated. "I served Killmonger, once. Though it was brief, I have no shame in that. He taught me something valuable, that the throne matters just as much as whoever sits upon it. So. . . what did Cousin teach you?"
Ah. Shuri shut her eyes. So this is what she needed. Okoye's voice was not laden with pity or concern. But purpose. She did have a general's heart. And perhaps that's why she confessed to Okoye. They shared so much. Ramonda had stripped Okoye of her entire world; she understood what it was like to feel Queen Mother's rejection. And she understood what it meant to be pinned underneath Killmonger's sway.
Shuri recalled T'Challa once telling her that the Ancestral Plane was a very purple, but beautiful and fitting retirement. And for the most part, he had been right. The plane had been very purple, but also orange and yellow and red from the flames burning all around her and Killmonger. She felt a deep shame, seeing him. She regretted the words she told him. How he influenced her so quickly. And what type of leader succumbs in such a way? For the past weeks, a shamefaced Shuri had hidden herself from everyone. They couldn't even find her in her lab. But the same compassion she extended to her enemy. . . perhaps it was time she offered it to herself.
Shuri's eyes opened, and they sparkled with renewed confidence. "I learned while anger is a valuable tool, vengeance is its puppeteer."
Okoye smiled, wide and beautifully. She stopped circling. "And you are no one's puppet." The corners of her smile faded, and she looked down at her deep blue dress, then out at the Falls. "Not even a puppet to tradition."
Shuri nodded once, understanding. She was never one for tradition, and she knew Okoye was slowly learning that about herself, too. "I will suggest to King M'Baku that we end Challenge Day. There are better ways to find a king or queen."
"Just bring with you a bowl of vegetables. He claims he cannot hear council on an empty stomach."
They laughed together. Okoye pulled her in for a long embrace. "Thank you," Shuri whispered in the former general's gold-cuffed ear, holding her tight. She and Okoye were both women who had shed old skin, who were finding their footing in newfound roles. They faced uncertainty. Restlessness, even. But they found stillness in each other, and through this, they would persevere.
The Panther Spirit leapt, bound, wind beneath clawed feet. Weight lifted. Free, at last.