It was from that day that my downfall began—from the day Malia took me on as her student—until the village elder banished me, forever. I was knocked out cold. Lying prone on the ground, the fresh grass weaving between my fingers and toes. It seemed like I had a chance against Malia. She was much weaker than I thought. The first blows I landed hit her squarely, but then, like a machine, she recalibrated, and soon the intense muscle pain began, spreading through my entire body. After all, she was an Adapter, and I knew exactly how her power worked; she demonstrated it to me that day and every time I saw her in the village. But maybe I couldn't defeat her because my mind was elsewhere. Zokin’s name kept bouncing around, echoing off the walls of my mind. Just the idea that she knew him stirred conflicting emotions in me.

“If this is all you’ve got, then we’ve got a lot of work to do” she said.

She saw me still on the ground after she had punished me with my own medicine and, perhaps out of pity (certainly not out of kindness), she added, “I was about to say that all the time you spent watching me was a waste, but I doubt that would boost your confidence.”

“Well, you just said it anyway.” She wasn’t great at encouragement.

“Come on, get up. I’ll forgive you for that last punch.”

I took her hand, like siblings who had just fought but somehow managed to make peace, and brushed the dirt off myself.

“I didn’t really know what to do, so I just reacted,” I admitted.

She looked at me, intrigued. “Yes, sometimes listening to your instincts can be useful, but it depends on their quality. I don't think that's a good deal for someone without powers like you.” Then she gave me her first real piece of advice: “You should rely entirely on technique, not instinct.”

Easy for her to say. “And how am I supposed to do that? You can’t just say ‘learn’ and expect me to magically know everything.”

“Oh, right, you all learn much more slowly,” she said with the casualness of an innocent girl.

“You didn’t take me on as your student just to boost your ego, did you?” It was a valid suspicion. Yes, I still thought she had ulterior motives. Maybe one day, once we’d improved our relationship, I would ask her.

“No, no, it’s just that I’m not very good at talking to people like you without offending them. I usually do it on purpose.”

I looked at her, confused. “You know I’m a human being just like you, right?”

She paused for a very long time before answering, “Yeah… let’s say that’s true.”

I furrowed my brow. I was puzzled. That “Yeah, let’s say” seemed to imply the opposite of what she had just said, yet I didn’t believe she was something other than human. She simply felt different, and in a way, she was. Her only human traits were her appearance and way of speaking; otherwise, she was anything but human. She managed to adapt to my fighting style within ten seconds, and her strength and agility were definitely not human. I tried not to be too harsh with her.

“But just because you have powers doesn’t mean you’re so different from me.”

She thought for a moment before replying, “Yes, maybe you’re right. After all, we share the same dream, don’t we?”

That was my chance to learn more. “I’ve told you my dream. But is it really yours too? To become the village chief?”

She stepped back and took a fighting stance, as if we were about to start sparring again.

“If you can hit me again, I’ll tell you.”

It was unfair. She, or rather her power, had already adjusted to the speed of my movements (not that they were impressive), and hitting her like I did the first time would be nearly impossible. Yet my body seemed to have recovered. Somehow, I felt that this was a way to motivate me to fight, and it was working. I wanted to know more, even if it was all a trick. I wanted to know about her, her dream, and the motivations driving her to fight and improve each day at the chosen ones' camp. Maybe I was just a novelty or a distraction from her mundane life. I couldn’t know, but the one thing I was certain of was that I had to at least try to hit her. Otherwise, the chances of her telling me anything would be very low. Besides, I had to prove myself. Damn! She was risking getting caught just to train me! I had to mean something to her, but I still didn’t know what.

I got into position. I was ready to fight. It was a completely different feeling, fighting against a human being instead of punching a tree, but the concept was the same: either you defeat your opponent, or you get defeated.

With a burst of speed, I tried to close the distance between us, but she kept a careful distance, and I instinctively aimed a blow at her shoulder to avoid hurting her too much. Just as I began to move my arm towards her, I found her face right beneath me. I didn’t even have time to realize it before another punch to my stomach winded me, leaving me completely breathless. For a moment, I thought I was going to die.

“Stop, enough!” I yelled, overcome by pain like I’d never felt before. Although I understood what pain was, living in an environment sheltered from any suffering like my village had deluded me into thinking that a pain like that wasn’t real, that it could only be felt outside the village boundaries or in legends. That pain gave me something in return for my suffering. I became acutely aware of how alive I was at that moment.

“I know it hurts,” she said, without a trace of empathy. I couldn’t understand her at all. Whenever I got close to her, she seemed to pull away. The more I tried to understand her, the further I was from actually comprehending her.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

“You’ll have to get used to it,” she continued. “Just think, I’m actually one of the weaker members… I mean, in terms of strength.”

That statement didn’t help me at all. Everything she said seemed designed to make me quit, to abandon this useless, unreachable dream.

“Why are you so mean to me?” I asked, struggling to breathe.

“You think I’m cruel.” She thought carefully about her words before speaking. “Don’t confuse cruelty with survival, Falco. I’m helping you, or at least I’m trying. If you feel pain, it’s not because I’m being cruel; it’s because you’re still too weak to survive, and even compete against just one of us.”

“It seems like you’re just doing it to make fun of me.”

I got back up on my feet. I was tired, exhausted. Yes, I was completely worn out. Yet there was something inside me, like a voice that kept saying “Well? Who are you, Falco?” It was my inner voice trying to find a purpose of all that pain. It wasn’t the same pain I felt when I punched the tree. That pain I could endure; I inflicted it on myself, so to speak. This pain annoyed me, hurt me more—not because of the physical pain Malia caused, but because it reminded me of the pain my father had inflicted on me, and that I wanted to forget. It was something that hurt, and I wasn’t the one deciding it. I wanted to stop as soon as possible, but my body kept rebelling against my mind. I said, “I can’t go on,” but my body said, “Keep going, fight back.”

Malia, watching me as I tried to stay on my feet, remained silent, perhaps feeling sorry for the boy in front of her.

“But even if it hurts, I want to continue.” I wanted to discover my limits and maybe learn more about myself.

“I know it’s hard,” she said, against all expectations, “but I’m on your side.”

She walked toward me, tapping her belly with her hand before raising her fists. “So, do you want to know why I’m doing all of this? You also wanted to know about Zokin, right? But if you can’t even touch me…”

I let my emotions take control like never before, and a surge of energy from my lungs spread throughout my body. I sprang forward, aiming just to touch her, to brush against her.

Of course, I failed—there’s no denying it—but I think she expected it to end this way.

I lay on the cool grass and damp ground, just as it always been. I was at my limit. Now I was truly out of strength.

Malia, my teacher, sat beside me, knowing that I was now powerless.

“Well, at least we had fun, didn’t we?” she tried to lighten the mood.

“We had fun,” my ass. I was in pain all over, and if I even tried to move a muscle, it felt like someone was playing tug-of-war with my legs.

“I didn’t have fun. But something tells me you already knew I wouldn’t succeed,” I said, a bit ashamed.

She smiled. “You’re right. I would have told you everything anyway, but I wanted to see how you’d handle it.” Then she added, “So, where should we start…”

It seemed like she was dragging it out, so despite the pain, I shouted, “I want to know about Zokin first!”

“Yeah, maybe it’s better if we talk about that first…”

The sun set, and the colors of the tent tops began to change, becoming warmer, just like everything we looked at: the sky, the tufts of grass, the trees.

“To make it short, you already know I want to become the village chief, but I don’t like talking much about myself. What you need to know is that Zokin is my number one enemy in terms of powers. Let’s just say there’s a significant incompatibility, such that I lose every match against him, no matter what moves or strategies I try. My power doesn’t allow me to surpass him, or at least, he doesn’t let me.”

“So there’s someone who doesn’t let you walk all over them.” It was risky to say that, but probably, in addition to my body, my brain was also tired, so much so that I couldn’t hold back intrusive thoughts or questions.

“No!” she stiffened, then regained her composure. “It’s not like that. You already know how my power works!”

“Ah, I see.”

“Rather,” (wisely changing the subject) “from the way you were talking earlier, you seemed very interested in him. Why were you so eager to know about Zokin?”

I didn’t feel like telling her, but what would change if I kept it to myself? I was too used to being alone, and I wasn’t sure if sharing was a wise choice. I didn’t feel the need to talk about “my stuff.”

“He was an old friend of mine.”

“Really?!” she exclaimed, surprised. “You? A friend of a chosen one? Yet I’ve never heard him talk about his life before being chosen. So you wanted to know how your childhood friend was doing. How sweet.”

For some reason, her tone didn’t seem caring, rather making fun of me, as always.

“I wasn’t really sure.”

“What?”

“I mean, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to know about him. We’d been friends for a long time, but then, you know… his powers were awakened and then you know how it works.”

“Are you envious for that?”

“No, it’s not that. At the time, I was happy he became one of the chosen ones, but still…”

She got up and patted me on the shoulder. “I know what you mean. But now, even if you don’t have powers like him, you still have me. Don’t you think?”

What a strange thing to say. “You have me.” It seemed positive, but the idea of having her to myself, I don’t know, was like being doused with a bucket of cold responsibility.

“Honestly, I don’t know. You’ve worn me out to the point of confusing me.”

She smiled for the second time.

“Well, from now on, you’ll have to get used to having me around.”

What did that mean? It sounded… wrong. Noticing that I wasn’t reacting—I looked more like a corpse now, melting into the ground—she pressed her foot on my shoulder, as if checking if I was still alive.

“For training, I mean.” She said, “See you tomorrow, I have to go. I’ll explain you the plan tomorrow.”

"Plan? Wait, what pl-"

And just as she had arrived, she left. She vanished silently, but causing such a noise in my head that I hoped that was the last time, and not the first, I would have to train with her.