Beyond the gates, there was a courtyard paved with flat stones. Along the stone fence, there were flower beds with grass and bushes with large leaves. In the middle of the courtyard, there grew a large tree, next to which stood a stone statue. It appeared to be a funny monkey dressed in clothes. The statue was old, with many details worn away or chipped. Near the gates, there were wooden mannequins with wooden sticks protruding in all directions from their solid bodies. These were training dummies for practicing strikes and blocks. Everything was well-maintained and clean. In the depths of the courtyard stood an old, two-story stone house.

The girl headed toward the house. I hurriedly followed the owner of this place. On the ground floor of the house, there was a martial arts training hall. It was difficult to mistake it for anything else.

"Wait here, I'll prepare some tea," said the girl as she disappeared behind the door.

I looked around curiously. This place was ancient. It could be felt that everything here was imbued with the spirit of martial arts. How many strikes were performed in this hall, how much sweat was shed?! How many small victories over oneself were achieved by the people training here.

I stood on a soft flooring. Around me were training equipment for practicing strikes, neatly arranged, along with various tools for developing strength and endurance. There were weighted sticks, iron weights, dumbbells, rings, thick oval shapes—everything imaginable. Many of these devices were unfamiliar to me, and I couldn't even imagine how to use them. Steel balls and logs hung from the ceiling on chains, bearing the marks of numerous strikes. Large stones were placed on stands, some of them with finger imprints. I pictured iron fingers that had left such marks. There was even a life-sized leather dummy, probably filled with sand. In my world, people practiced throws on similar dummies. This place was a true temple.

In the corners of the room, on small platforms, there were mannequins adorned with steel armor. More precisely, the armor only covered the legs and arms. It seemed to me that they aimed to protect the hands to the maximum extent without sacrificing mobility. The armored gloves were works of art. Thick metal, about three millimeters thick, with protrusions resembling cones in various places. All the pieces fit together perfectly, with no gaps between the plates. The steel was somehow attached to thick leather gloves. I imagined the force with which a master could strike using such a glove, and I felt sorry for any opponent. All the equipment was heavily worn, bearing the marks of numerous repairs. I saw deep scratches, notches, and chips. These were authentic battle armors. They must have belonged to generations of this family.

I got carried away and didn't notice when the girl appeared with a tray. She approached a small table and began to arrange the refreshments. A belated thought flashed in my mind. How could I forget to take something with me? I was going to visit someone! I had come empty-handed, I felt like a fool. I hurried to help the hostess.

"Thank you for the invitation," I said, feeling slightly embarrassed. "My name is Evan."

"I'm Hina," she slightly tilted her head and added, "This used to be my father's banukai, now it's mine."

I figured out that banukai referred to a martial arts training hall. Evan wasn't familiar with the term for such a place.

"I'm sorry about what happened to your father."

"Thank you, Evan. He was a good man and lived a worthy life."

"I have no doubt. He left behind a wonderful heir," I seemed to have said something wrong. The girl looked at me strangely, and I quickly changed the subject. "Tell me, I heard that your father defeated opponents bare-handed. His friends said he fought a ghoul. How is that possible? Or how can an unarmed person stand against someone armed? I thought it was impossible."

"I'm not sure about monsters. It's very difficult bare-handed... Still... Dad was strong. Did you see the armor in the corner? With their help, one can certainly fight. Well, the armor allows for equal footing. Beyond that, it comes down to combat skills and your own strength. This holds true even in a confrontation with armed opponents."

"Hmm... but what's the point then?"

"Are you saying it's easier to pick up a sword and learn how to wield it?" the girl correctly understood my question.

"Yes," I confirmed.

"Every martial art has its merits and drawbacks. In our family, we call unarmed combat 'Bezor.' So... Bezor has the advantage of speed and versatility but loses out in terms of fighting distance. Also... We have the advantage of readiness for combat, agility..."

"What do you mean by readiness and agility?" I interrupted. "Sorry."

"A swordsman needs to draw their sword—it takes time and distance. Meanwhile, we can already strike, apply joint locks, take someone down, break something, or get close for blocking the opponent... There are many possibilities. You might argue that a swordsman needs just a moment to unsheathe their weapon. Yes, true, masters are quick. But a swordsman also requires space to deliver a strike. They need to swing and bring down their weapon or thrust, which still requires space. Our bodies are our weapons, always ready for combat. If you can't make a swing, no problem! Take them down or twist their limb or... There are many options."

Hina sat with a cup in her right hand, her left hand resting on the table. In the same instant, her left hand froze above the table, clenched into a fist. Her right hand continued holding the cup without spilling a drop of tea. I managed to notice the strike, but I wouldn't have been able to dodge it. An ordinary person, without the gift of Uzaya, wouldn't have even seen the strike. The girl returned her left hand to the table.

"A fighter with a weapon needs time to prepare, they need the weapon and space. We, on the other hand, are the weapon and always ready. Our armor..." Hina nodded towards the mannequins wearing armor. "It's simply an equalizer. It allows us to get close to fighters without sustaining unnecessary injuries. Bezor is close-quarters combat. It's both an advantage and a disadvantage."

"I understand. You block strikes and swiftly close the distance. After that, your opponent can't offer any resistance. But what about monsters and magicians?"

"Dealing with magicians is difficult, but that applies to any warrior. Have you seen how magicians fight? You can only rely on your speed. You must dodge and strive to get within striking distance of the magician. Most likely, the magician will defeat you long before you can reach them. Your only option is to throw something, disrupt their spell, and run. Whether you're armed or not doesn't matter. Do you agree?"

"And what about monsters?"

They are very resilient and strong. Thankfully, they are few in number. You can only inflict injuries, break bones, damage their eyes, disable their limbs. That's when you have a chance. Swordsmen have a slight advantage in terms of distance. But if a monster closes the distance, which always happens, the swordsman is dead. We prefer short combat distances, but it all depends on your preparation. You're up against wild ferocity and power."

The girl fell silent. We sat there, drinking tea, each lost in our own thoughts. I pondered whether it was worth investing time in this art or focusing on mastering some weapon. The girl silently observed me.

"Tell me, why did the rumors about hand-to-hand combat pique your interest?"

"I don't know." I shrugged.

"Evan, boys your age usually dream of becoming magicians, and if that doesn't work out, they aim to become swordsmen. No one pays attention to anything else."

"I can't be a magician. And even if a miracle were to happen, wouldn't it be beneficial to possess the skill of defending oneself without relying on magic? I want to become a ranger. Perhaps I looking for something versatile and deadly."

We chatted, and out of the corner of my eye, I caught a movement. I tried to casually turn my head in the right direction. A small monkey in a kimono appeared from the passage. In reality, it had some deviations from the traditional kimono, but I didn't dwell on them. A white shirt, pants, and a belt. It strongly resembled a kimono. The monkey was exactly like a statue in the courtyard. Maybe there were shamans in this family? Do they have their own spirit totem? How is that possible?

The loa approached the chair where my bag was hanging and reached out its paw towards it. Again? What was happening with this loa, are they all thieves? The monkey froze, its expression ranging from determined to uncertain and frightened. It paid no attention to us. Its paw would approach my bag, and then the loa would jerk it back. I could see the internal struggle happening within the loa. Something was preventing it from peeking into someone else's bag, but the monkey desperately wanted to do it. After a few minutes of struggle, the loa surrender. The monkey lowered its shoulders and head, as if it had become smaller. The spirit turned around and slowly walked back. It seemed to be muttering something under its breath, barely audible. I caught some of the words.

"I can't. Centuries of history disappearing, and I can't do it. I'm weak," the spirit muttered, running its paw across its face.

"Evan... Evan." the girl snapped her fingers loudly.

"Yes?" I turned around.

"What did you see there?"

"Nothing, I must have imagined it." I was so surprised by the loa's behavior that I lost control of myself.

"You're strange." she smiled.

"Hina, can you take me as your student?" I asked unexpectedly. I didn't think I was ready yet, but I asked anyway.

"I would love to, but I'm facing financial difficulties. I'll have to sell my banukai soon." the girl blushed and hid her eyes. "I won't be able to teach."

"That's sad. I believe things will work out somehow. The important thing is not to give up. I'll study as long as I can."

I liked Hina. I also felt drawn to the spirit-totem of her family. I decided to try and help all of us. Besides, something was pulling me towards this peculiar martial art.

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

"I feel uncomfortable asking, but can you afford ten silver coins per month?" asked the girl, looking for something at the bottom of her cup with her eyes. "Don't misunderstand, it's not expensive... My father used to charge a gold coin. But..."

"Of course. Hina, I will start earning and be able to pay more."

"And one more thing, Evan... Learning Bezor is painful and challenging. We spend a lot of time on developing muscles, tendons, strengthening our bodies. Techniques are important, but somewhat secondary. Our body is our weapon, always with us."

Hina flexed her arm, and beneath the skin, muscles and veins bulged like a draft horse. She took a sharp knife from the table, which she used to cut the pie into pieces, and handed it to me."

"Test it out."

The knife was sharp, and I handed it back to Hina. The girl swiftly struck her own left arm with it. She didn't hold back and indeed hit with force. A small white mark remained on her skin. It would soon fade away. I thought I saw a flicker of yellow glow during the contact of the blade with her hand. Was that energy? Can Hina harness chi?

"If you develop your body correctly, you can withstand certain strikes like this. Of course, not every stroke! This is a chopping strike, it's not as dangerous. The cutting impact would cause harm, but much less compared to an untrained person.

"It's impressive."

"You have to be prepared for pain. You have to strive for perfection with all your heart, then you'll see results. My father started training me when I was five years old. He himself trained his whole life."

"I understand. I have the motivation to become the very best. Hina, does anyone rent a room nearby?"

"I know. Lira does. It's on the next street. Just a five-minute walk away." Hina seemed surprised. "Evan, are you planning to live alone? Sorry, but where are your parents?"

"It's a complicated and tangled story. I'm not ready to talk about it now. Is that a problem?"

"No. " She shook her head. "Perhaps, it's silly, but... It somehow seems to me that you are much older than you look. If you can handle it, I'll be glad."

"Can I come for training tomorrow morning?"

"Of course, tomorrow at eight. Does that work for you?"

"Yes. Please explain where to find Lira."

We said goodbye, and I set off to look for accommodation. I crossed the street, walked to the first intersection, turned right, and arrived at the street I was looking for. The houses here were old but well-maintained. It was clean. Elderly people strolled around, children ran here and there, and adults hurried about their business. It seemed like an ordinary city life. I noticed a group of teenagers on the corner of an abandoned building, throwing a knife at a target. They looked like typical troublemakers with a penchant for delinquency.

The house I needed stood out from the rest. The ground floor was made of stone, while the upper part had a wooden frame filled with clay and straw. The walls were a pale yellow color. It had a beautiful thatched roof. Charming wrought-iron flower stands adorned the windows.

Next to the entrance, there was a lovely bench where an old lady sat. Judging from Hina's description, she was Lira. She was a short, plump woman with gray hair neatly styled.

"Good evening. Are you Lira? My name is Evan. Hina told me that you have a room for rent."

"Good evening, young man. What did you do to displease Hina so much that she sent you here?"

"What's wrong?" I became wary. I didn't expect anything bad from the girl.

"My neighbors say it's a bad place. It all started when my husband died. There are noises throughout the house, things go missing, someone knocks on the walls. Someone walks around at night. It frightens me."

"Hmm, have you called any magicians?" I cautiously asked.

"I've called them three times already. They took the money and did nothing. A young magician even spoiled the wall and drew two fire crosses with a whip. What's the point? It didn't help at all." She waved her hand. "And I can't sell the house, nobody wants to live in it."

"Is it really that scary?"

"I can't take it anymore! It's getting worse and worse over time! I live on the street in front of the house! What am I going to do when winter comes?"

"Well, if..."

"You'll run away tomorrow anyway. You're not the first brave one." the woman waved her hand, not believing in anything.

A thought briefly crossed my mind to cheaply buy this house from the old lady, but I dismissed it. Is it right to profit from someone else's misery?

I entered the house following Lira. The first floor was messy. Dust lay along the walls. Things were scattered everywhere, cobwebs swayed in the corners from the movement of air, balls of fur rolled across the floor. The kitchen was in serious disarray. I was glad that at least there wasn't a foul smell; the rest could be fixed.

"Don't mind the dirt. I cleaned it up earlier, but in the morning, there's dust again, cobwebs, as if someone deliberately hangs them. I stopped bothering. It's useless anyway."

I felt a gaze on my back and turned around. Standing in the hallway was a house spirit, but it was the wrong one. It was incredibly terrifying. Its hair was long and unkempt, dirty strands sticking out in all directions. Its beard was bristling. Its torso was bare. The pants were torn and dirty, as if they had been used to mop the floors. The spirit's eyes burned with red embers. Hatred and madness filled its gaze. On the head of the house spirit was some kind of black lump. It resembled jelly, twitching and oozing darkness from time to time. How many more marvelous discoveries will I have to make? It's my first day in town.

In my peripheral vision, I saw Lira clutching her heart and stepping back. The woman couldn't see the spirit, but she felt the source of horror and madness.

"Let's go, Evan... outside," the elderly woman struggled to speak the words. She stuttered. Her face alternated between paleness and red patches. She stared toward the door, but saw nothing.

"Go, Lira. I'll continue exploring the house. Is that okay?" I asked, as the elderly woman just nodded spasmodically.

She dashed out into the hallway as if desperately leaping off a mountain. I heard the front door slam shut.

"And who are you?" I asked the house spirit. I infused my body with spiritual energy.

"Painful! Run, human!" the house spirit growled and darted along the wall toward the stove.

I noticed the black lump on its head vibrating even more intensely. Was that the source of the problem? Loa grabbed a pot and hurled it at me. Adrenaline was already coursing through my veins, so the pot sailed past me slowly and crashed into the wall, bouncing to the far corner of the room. The house spirit threw a frying pan at me. He didn't stop. Loa grabbed a large kitchen knife and swiftly climbed up onto the ceiling. Small dark marks were left on the white surface. The frying pan narrowly missed my head, smashing into the window. The object shattered the glass and flew out into the yard. How was I going to explain this to Lira?

Loa ran across the ceiling and leaped at me, holding the blade forward. I deflected the weapon with my left hand. The house spirit managed to turn the knife with its cutting edge, and sharp blade cut through his sleeve.. Using my open right palm, I struck the chest of the house spirit. Loa was thrown backward. The spirit flew into the closet and fell to the floor. The closet door flew off its hinges and crashed loudly to the floor beside it. The knife flew off to the side, somewhere under the table. I leaped toward the spirit and grabbed it by the neck. With the fingers of my right hand, I dug into the black jelly on Loa's head and ripped it off. The house spirit its eyes rolled back, and it lost consciousness. I didn't even know they were capable of that. I began examining what wriggled in my right hand.

The repulsive creature wriggled in my hand. Its tentacles squirmed and menacingly contorted towards my face. In the black mass, there were clusters floating and something resembling an eye. Was this the kvit? I had never seen anything like it before. Atzhas hadn't mentioned anything like this. It was about the size of a child's ball. I began poking the vile spirit with my finger, aiming for the creature's eye. With each new puncture, the kvit grew quieter and twitched less menacingly. After the final strike, its tentacles went limp, and the spirit slumped. Soon, it disintegrated into flakes that fluttered downward. I gathered as much as I could with my hands and placed them on the unconscious House Spirit. The energy seeped into Loa. He started to regain consciousness, moving, opening his eyes, and sitting up.

"How are you? Are you back to yourself? " I asked the house spirit.

"I thought it was the end for me. Thank you, shaman!" the loa tried to bow, but it was difficult for him to do so in his condition. The spirit almost collapsed to the floor.

"Sit down." I waved my hand. "What was that?"

"That was the owner of the house. In life, he was a malicious person, and after death... You saw what happened. I had almost no control over myself. He latched onto me and drained my energy. I resisted, but I didn't have much time left. When it was all over, he would have become a malevolent loa."

"Interesting." I ran my hand through my short hair. "Are such poltergeists common?"

"No, very rare. Perhaps someone cursed the person in life or... I don't know how it happened. We should ask the elders."

"Alright. Will you be okay?"

"Thank you. I'll manage now. I'll be good as new soon."

"I'll go and calm down the owner." I headed towards the exit of the house.

Pale Lira paced back and forth on the street, wringing her hands and longing to rush into the house, but fear held her back. When she saw me, she ran up and embraced me. Then she quickly stepped back and felt me all over. The kind woman was probably trying to find any injuries.

"Evan, are you hurt? What happened there?" she asked.

"Nothing," I feverishly tried to come up with a way to extricate myself from this situation. "I'm sorry, I broke your window. It was an accident. I don't know... I'm a clumsy oaf, as my mother always said. I'll fix everything!"

"Evan, tell me the truth!" the old lady instantly became stern.

"Um..." I was stunned by such a sudden change. "You ran out of the house, and I stayed in the kitchen. I slipped and bumped into the pot and frying pan. It happened so clumsily that the frying pan flew out the window. It was foolish. That's always how it is with me..."

I gestured with my hand, indicating the trajectory of the frying pan flying out the window. Lira stared at my forearm intently. I looked over there, too. There was a long, straight cut on the sleeve of my shirt. The fabric was slightly stained with blood.

"Oh, I also cut myself with something," I said, peering into the cut and discovering a long scratch left by the knife. I had already forgotten that the house spirit had managed to cut me. I had expected the wound to be much deeper. Perhaps the spiritual energy circulates beneath the skin, protecting my body? Something similar was demonstrated by Hina. I need to conduct some research.

"Poor boy! Come, let's go quickly. I'll treat your wound," Lira said, pulling me towards her house. "I'm an old fool. I suddenly got so scared..."

In the kitchen, she seated me on a chair and retrieved a first aid kit from the top shelf of the cupboard. She dampened a white cloth with something and began dabbing at my scratch, all the while giving me skeptical glances.

"Where can I have dinner nearby?" I asked innocently.

"Stay put, hero." Lira came to her own conclusions. "I'll feed you. Where would you go? It's getting dark outside."

"Thank you, Grandma Lira." I called this woman that to get her mind off things a little bit.

"I'll fry some eggs with bacon and make a cheese sandwich. It's what my neighbor Klasha brought this morning. And there's milk..."

While she busied herself with the promised dinner, I went to wash up. I probably couldn't avoid uncomfortable questions, and I was mentally preparing myself for the interrogation.

Most likely, I wouldn't be able to avoid uncomfortable questions. I liked the house. It was cozy and well-built, even with a bathroom and toilet. It was livable. The house spirit peeked into the bathroom and waved cheerfully. Then, humming a tune, he went down the corridor with a cloth and bucket in hand. Was he already preparing to clean up?

During dinner, Lira pestered me with questions. I repeated my version of events, and it seemed that Lira was satisfied with the explanation. Then she asked about my life, and I shared my fabricated story. My parents had gone missing in the forest, and it had been a month since anyone could find them. Nobody was looking for them. In my world, rescue teams would be circling in helicopters day and night. But here, who would bother with that? Neighbours did a little searching, but that was it. I decided to go to the city. I told she I wanted to become a ranger when I grew up. Now I would study under Hina, and she agreed to prepare me for admission to the training camp when I turned fourteen. The old lady was expectantly worried during my story and felt very sorry for me, considering me an orphan.

Once I had finished eating, the woman led me upstairs and showed me the room where I would be staying. It was a pleasant, small room, measuring about twelve square meters, with two windows. There was a wardrobe, a bed, a table, a chair, a few shelves, and a carpet on the floor. Cozy and simple. There was also dust, cobwebs, and clumps of fur everywhere, but I would take care of that tomorrow. Lira gave me bedding and left with my shirt in her hands, confidently declaring that she was skilled at sewing. By morning, she assured me, the shirt would be good as new.

I unpacked my belongings and collapsed onto the bed. I was already drifting off to sleep when Lira peeked into the room.

"Sorry, Evan," she warmly smiled. "Thank you! I feel like everything will be fine now. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Grandma Lira."

The elderly woman smiled at me once again and left the room, now officially mine.