I was in. There was no turning back. I had undeniable responsibilities that I couldn't just abandon or ignore, let alone walk away from. That's what I thought as I lay on my bed, holding the scroll in my hands, staring up at the ceiling.

There was a taboo in the scroll that had caught my attention: “Those who are defeated in the tournament will become Outsiders, safeguarding the village from external dangers and calamities.”

I kept reading that phrase, and the more I did, the more convinced I was about one thing: Malia definitely didn’t want to end up like an Outsider.

More than a taboo, it was a custom, a rule, that dictated the losers - those who failed to win the tournament and didn't become the village chief - would serve a purpose in protecting the village. These losers were called Outsiders, the chosen ones who had lost the tournament, and I imagined their role was to remain just outside the village, beyond the barrier, like some kind of guards or sentinels. It was strange that I had never heard of them before. Perhaps it was because they couldn’t return to the village once they left, or maybe because they were essentially exiled, I had never seen them around.

I believe Malia knew this rule, and I thought that was one of the reasons she pushed herself so hard, breaking various taboos to secure victory.

As for me, I didn’t really care. In fact, if I became an Outsider, I’d be quite happy with it. I’d still be recognized as one of the chosen, I’d have a title, and maybe my family would be prouder of me. I would only feel sorry for my mother, to leave home and never see her again.

In the end, that’s what I was aiming for, right? To become someone, to understand who I was, or what I could be.

That night, I managed to sleep somehow, but I knew that once I started breaking taboos by entering the realm of the chosen as one of them, there would be no way back. I’d have to do my best to help the teacher and, at the same time, help myself become someone of value, like the chosen ones were perceived. Even if it was all a lie, I knew I had gotten this far on my own. Maybe with a little bit of help, let’s put it that way.

“Wait. I can’t take it anymore.”

The teacher wasn’t holding back any moves, any strikes. By now, she had been training me for weeks, and even though she couldn’t always be there due to some unforeseen events, my senses and endurance had improved.

“If you can’t last more than two minutes, Zokin will punch you in the face, got it?! I don’t need a dead Falco! I want a Falco who wears that bastard out!”

She always did that. When I seemed at my limit, she’d say something, and then, incredibly, I’d manage to keep going.

“But he’s still my friend. I don’t think he wants to kill me.”

Even though Zokin had become one of the chosen ones and years had passed since we last saw each other, I hoped our relationship hadn’t changed. I hoped he hadn’t gotten as full of himself as Malia, who sometimes genuinely seems to believe she’s a divine being of immense kindness, descended from the heavens just to assist me, when the truth was I knew very well that. I was fighting mainly for her cause and to not disappoint her.

“He might be your friend, but don’t you think he’s changed a bit after all this time? I live with him every day, and he doesn’t seem at all like you describe him. To me, he just seems like a jerk who never lets his guard down around anyone. It’s like he’s determined to be the village chief at all costs when he can’t even keep the two things in his room in order.”

Her blows started to get harsher.

“Teacher, don’t take it out on me!”

“It’s for training, dear. For training,” she said, smiling with her eyes as she continued trying to hit me.

After that day’s training, she told me, “You’ve gotten tougher, Falco. Maybe you’ve got a chance of holding out.”

“Are you serious?!” I exclaimed, surprised by what felt like my first real compliment.

“Teacher, what happened to you? Suddenly, you’re giving me compliments?”

She punched me in the head: “What the hell are you talking about! I just said you’ve got a chance of not dying, and you’re getting a big head?!”

I kept quiet, not wanting to get punched in the head again, but a question naturally came to mind.

"So, can you explain why I should focus on enduring and not counterattacking? It doesn’t seem like a good strategy. Sooner or later, he’ll land a hit, even if he gets tired."

She caught my question immediately. "Finally, you’re asking," she said, as if it was the most obvious thing I should have done before casually agreeing to the training.

“There’s something you need to understand about us chosen ones. Especially those like Zokin, who rely solely on their fists and kicks as weapons. Unlike me and dear Robby, the chosen ones who primarily rely on strength are much less resilient in terms of endurance. If they don’t manage their power well, they start to wear themselves out, and fatigue is one of those temporary curses that can become permanent if not dealt with.”

“So his weakness is simply that he has immense power but can’t sustain it?”

“Exactly. If you aim to tire Zokin out, you’re on the right track. Of course, you’ll also need some incredible reflexes to dodge his strikes, although I’m not sure just how powerful he really is.”

I thought about it for a moment. Since the teacher had started training me, Zokin seemed like her number one enemy. Even the training she was putting me through was structured specifically to defeat Zokin by targeting his weaknesses. But something didn’t add up. How could I, an ordinary person without powers, be expected to defeat a chosen one of such strength when Malia, a chosen one with the power of adaptation, couldn’t?

“But something doesn’t make sense,” I confessed.

“What do you mean?” she asked, intrigued.

“From what I’ve gathered, you’ve never been able to beat him, right?”

I saw her hesitate before she quietly said, “Yes…”

“So I don’t understand why I, who can’t adapt to his pace like you can, would be able to defeat him or even push him to his limit, just by dodging his attacks.”

She sat down on the soft grass and removed her gloves.

“It’s actually much simpler than you think. This is just my observation, but I believe that you, and perhaps other powerless, are able to maintain your abilities consistently. Do you remember months ago when you couldn’t even last ten seconds against me?”

“Is this one of your usual veiled insults?”

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“At that point, your abilities were practically zero, or maybe slightly honed from constant training. But as you continued to train, your skills gradually improved, and now you possess them as long as you keep training. What I’m trying to say is that because of my power, I can’t retain the abilities I acquire like you can. Even if I train constantly, my power only adapts to the opponent’s skills until I can match and surpass them in a matter of seconds.”

“So you’ve been blessed with a shitty power.”

“No! My power doesn’t suck! I was just trying to explain that you’re able to retain the skills you gain. Even if I train, once I face Zokin, It's like as if he adjusts to my level of skills.”

I tried to grasp what she was saying, but it was really hard to understand her perspective. The thing is, I didn’t have that power (even if I had to fake it), so I couldn’t fully comprehend the sensations she experienced when it activated. I needed to understand better her power, so I could fake it better. However, I did understand that somehow, while she had to start from a certain level and then surpass her opponent’s abilities with her power, I could start from a higher level without having to adapt to the opponent in front of me, already possessing the skills I had earned through time and dedication.

“So that’s how it works? Even against me, every time it’s like you don’t know what moves I’m going to make?”

“I still have basic abilities. For instance, if you throw a straight punch at my face, I can easily dodge it, almost as if I can predict its trajectory. But overpowering you in strength is different. It’s as if at some point, something clicks, and I’m able to tap into your strength and surpass you.”

Then she hit me with a sudden question: “So, student. Knowing that, how do you think I could defeat Zokin?”

Shit! She actually told me once, but I can't remember it! I was too busy memorizing everything she said so I could throw it back in her face one day. But I thought about it - the way to defeat Malia. Ever since the day I punched her in the stomach, I hadn’t been able to do it again. It was strange; I had never noticed that before.

“The first time, I hit you when you weren’t expecting it. But based on what you’ve said, you should have been able to predict it with your abilities.”

“So? What’s your point?”

She knew I was circling around it.

“why you can't defeat Zokin, you say?” I said quietly.

“Why did you changed the question that way!”

“I think he does what I did. Maybe he uses all his strength from the start to hit you with a blow that knocks you down for good.”

She stayed silent. It seemed like I’d hit the mark.

“No, that’s the second option. But you clearly don’t know the ‘new’ Zokin. He’s more cunning than that. There are three ways to defeat adapters like me: the traditional methods involve surprising them, like you did the first time, or hitting them so fast they can't predict the trajectory in time. The last method is preventing them from adapting to your pace.”

“What does the the last one mean?”

“It’s something I’ve only seen Zokin do. He can control his strength, even just slightly.”

She stood up and punched the air.

“Basically, every time I adapt to his strength, he increases it just a little, so I can never fully overcome him. But by doing this, I’m the one who gets the curse and get tired, so I never get to see his true power, which he’ll definitely use in the tournament to win.”

“Wow.”

“‘Wow’ my ass! I’m telling you that if you want to enter the coosen ones camp, he’ll definitely challenge you, and if you can’t last at least a few seconds against him, sooner or later they’ll figure out you’re not a real chosen one.”

That “wow” was directed at Zokin. He had always been like that. His grandfather, an old master of the chosen ones, used to tell us stories about them, but unlike me, Zokin paid attention to every detail and memorized all the powers strengths and weaknesses. I think he prepared himself for all this in some way; maybe he believed in it even more than I did. And once his power was awakened, he already knew how to defeat every single chosen one. Perhaps it was because of his deep belief, his obsession with the chosen ones, that the Great Star chose him and not me. And now I'm here pretending to be one. Kinda ironic.

But one thing I knew for sure; yes, he was still the same Zokin, and he hadn’t changed at all.

“Heeey…” Malia said, noticing I was lost in thought.

“Sorry, I was just thinking.”

“So? Did you figure out what you have to do?”

“Yes, I got it. Basically, I need to pretend to gradually increase my abilities like you did so I can hold out long enough in a fight and not get caught (and not get killed).”

“Exactly. He’s the only one who might cause us problems by volunteering to test you, and even if that doesn’t happen, you need to be ready for the training days.”

I didn’t really understand what she meant by “causing problems,” but I agreed anyway. She really had thought of everything.

I have to admit, I was excited. I couldn’t wait to meet Zokin again, especially in the chosen ones’ camp! It was like we’d always dreamed of, him and me facing off in a battle between chosen ones.

“Once the master decides we’re ready, the tournament will start. And as soon as he sees that Zokin is in trouble with your skills, I’m sure he’ll give the green light.”

“Are you sure?”

“Not one hundred percent sure, but with you, something will definitely change.”

I trusted her. I was very grateful for what she had done for me since she kept training me day by day.

“Anyway, I still don’t understand what my role is in your ‘evil plan.’ I’m not supposed to defeat Zokin in the tournament or something, right? Like, we both make it to the final, and then I have to let you win?”

“You really can’t stop dreaming, can you?” she said with a smile. “I’ll explain it when you enter the camp. For now,” she held out her hand, “it’s time to keep training.”

It was the eve, but not of December 25th (the day the village was founded). It was the eve of the day I would present myself at the camp and the village as a chosen adapter. A special chosen one, who had awakened his powers late. Saying it like that doesn’t sound great. But honestly, I was starting to like my fake identity.

If I couldn’t sleep, it wasn’t just because of the performance anxiety I felt about the charade Malia and I were about to pull off.

That evening, I had something very important to do, and somehow, I found the courage to do it. More than courage, it was pure nerve...

I told my mother that I had awakened the powers of the Great Star and that I was an adapter. The next morning, I would go to the camp and live like all the other chosen ones. At first, she thought I was joking, and honestly, I would have thought the same. Your eighteen-year-old son comes to you and says, “I’ve awakened my powers,” as if everyone didn’t already know that at some age, it’s too late. She said she believed in me, that maybe one day a miracle would happen, but I knew what she really meant. I heard her pray every night for me, praying that I could have the life I wanted and pursue the dream I longed for. Every night, before I fell asleep, I heard her whisper those prayers, and each time, I held them close to my heart. It made me a little angry, that she believed so blindly in that great, wrinkled rock. But the way she uttered those prayers—they went straight to my soul. I was also angry at myself. The only way I could make her happy was with a lie.

I said, “Mom, your prayers have been answered.”

At that point, I don’t know if it was because she believed so deeply in those prayers or because she wanted to believe in my words, but she looked at me with tear-filled eyes, and her face took on a warm glow.

“I always knew that one day it would happen,” she said as she hugged my waist, her knees on the wooden floor. Then she kissed my forehead and hid her tears on her sleeve.

“Go, Falco. Show them the strength of your dream. But don’t tell your father!”

“Well,” I said with a smile, “I’d say it’s ‘our’ dream, isn't it?”

I stood in front of that gate made of massive wood.

The village was deserted at that spot. No one dared to come so close to the chosen ones’ camp, much less enter it. Everyone knew those taboos well. But they only knew what the current village chief wanted them to know. I knew something more than they did. Malia had awakened me from a blind sleep of ignorance and had led me here: to the gates of the chosen ones’ camp.

My legs were shaking. I didn’t know if it was normal, but I was sure it matched the emotions I felt deep inside. I was scared. Scared to face my future head-on. Did I want to be a chosen one? Here was the opportunity. I just had to cross those gates, and my new life would begin.