I realize that the episode where Ron tells Yori the situation has not yet been shown, but I was just itching to write this.
A warrior of Yamanuchi must be calm. No, not calm, but peaceful. Peaceful as in the river of life force that flowed through all things both physical and spiritual. Anger, uncontrolled, was rarely a menace to the one blamed as the cause of anger but truly a menace to one's self. A warrior of Yamanuchi was be at peace, at comfort with the world, open to the nuances of life.
Fortunately, Yori understood these things. Not only was she a warrior of Yamanuchi, she was a girl. This fact was not to suggest that females were greater or less than males; rather, this knowledge reminded her of what she contributed to the feminine side of the universe. Passivity, peace, earth, coolness.
Though everything was connected, every soul still had its right to individuality. Yori could not change fate, what was meant to be, and never would she dare try. It was not her place. She was at peace with herself, and that was what mattered.
So of course the news did not bother her. Evidently, this was meant to be, and Yori was not so naïve as to expect the fantastic from a few meetings. That was not how love worked. After all, she had never thought too much about the situation, her own feelings, the chance "American boyfriend" that occasionally slipped from her lips in the presence of other Yamanuchi girls. She was fine with this. She was at peace with the situation. Love had blossomed somewhere in this world, and that was nothing but positive.
She took to her room, once all adventure was over. Many preferred to meditate in the gardens, or perhaps an ancient shrine, but often she found her center in the four walls she could call her own. This was her own individual presence in this area.
Was it so wrong she needed a chance to meditate? No, it was not necessary to seek meditation and spiritual enlightment at only the most dire times. She just felt like it this time, that was all. She sat in the center of her room, body poised, eyes closed.
How at peace with herself was this Kim Possible? How much could she control herself?
Yori opened her eyes. What was she doing? This was not what she needed at the moment. She was denying her physical body! Balance was so vital to the world! She hopped to her feet and proceeded to send a good kick into the wall.
Ooh, a dent. A good dent. Staring at that dent of splintered wood was surprisingly energizing.
This was good. She felt very at peace now. She kicked the wall again.
But a wall? What did a wall to mean her? She needed a proper subject of focus, and it did not need to be physically present. After all, such notions of distance and presence were essentially meaningless.
So she pretended the wall was Ron Stoppable.
This time, she made a veritable hole in the wall.. She could not describe the pleasure she felt.
But destruction? She had never been a person of destruction. Again, it was all about balance. For all things destroyed, things must created.
That was good. She would not mind creating something.
There was paper at her desk. She sat down, pulled out paper, a marker, and began to draw, letting her innermost feelings guide her. When she finished, she looked at the results with proper pride. The likenesses of Ron Stoppable and Kim Possible were impressive—the devil horns were purely metaphorical, of course.
Now what was she to do with her creation?
She tore it in half three times, then crumbled the scraps into a ball.
Hmm. She had emotions. It was not healthy to suppress emotions. They were to be embraced for what they were and properly channeled.
Yori threw the ball onto the floor, then stomped on. Now if only she could find something breakable…
Master Sensei quickly made his way to young Yori's chambers. He could feel distress in his soul on her behalf, inexplicable distress. Though he had heard a rather violent scream some time ago. Yori was wise beyond her years, but that did not mean that she no longer needed his advice and training…
If something were wrong, he must assist.
He reached her door. All seemed well, but one could never be sure. He rapped on the door.
"Come in, Master Sensei," came her sweet, calm voice.
Odd. He opened the door and nearly screamed himself.
Yori's room was in shambles. Torn paper littered the floor. Large holes dotted the walls. Giant bags displaying the logo for that American banana place that had recently come to Japan were scattered everywhere.
And there was Yori, meditating on the floor next to a half-eaten pint of Ben and Jerry's ice cream. Something to do with chocolate.
"Yori," he finally managed to stammer. "What's wrong?"
She opened her eyes. Her lotus position was perfect. "Nothing is wrong, Master Sensei. Nothing at all."