The following morning, I emerged from Dusk’s realm to see Ikki sitting on a park bench, reading a book. The moment I stepped out, he shut the book and nodded.

“Before we begin with your gift, I should transfer the simulacra.”

I nodded my agreement, and Ikki headed to our house, pulling at threads of temporal magic and energy. He used Capture Moment over himself and then began casting spells I didn’t recognize at all. As he worked, he spoke.

“You can likely only get a vague sense of what I am doing, since your mana senses are still limited, but it would be good to pay attention regardless. I told you that Capture Moment was a foundational spell, and this is what I meant. Even though I am weaving together seventh gate magic to form my simulacra spell, I am still interfacing with a first gate spell.”

Something about that statement caught me off guard.

“Seventh? I thought it was sixth.”

“No. Why?”

“Well…” I paused to consider it.

Orykson had said Meadow was a shade weaker than he was, and I’d interpreted it to mean that she was sixth gate, and he was seventh. But he was stronger than seventh, that much was apparent now, and I was also starting to see just how wide the gulf in tiers could be. I could fight some fourth gate mages, while also being stomped by other third gate mages.

I considered if Meadow had ever talked about her gate, but she hadn’t, not that I remembered.

“Is Meadow seventh gate?” I finally asked, and Ikki paused his work, then gave me an odd look.

“She’s far stronger than most seventh gate mages,” he said. “Her last apprentice, Darius, is currently a seventh gate mage, and is preparing to ascend to eighth gate.”

“Are magi real? Not just rumors. True ninth gate mages capable of accomplishing anything, with the power to call upon an infinite amount of mana.”

“Not in that sense,” Ikki said, resuming his work. “There are dangers to the world that are presented by having too many powerful people. I cannot say much more, and I do not mean that I do not wish to, I mean that I cannot.”

I frowned, thinking through the problem.

“Then there are ninth gate mages, but their power isn’t unlimited mana. That makes sense, I always thought that sounded kind of like nonsense, which is why I dismissed the idea that magi were real. That makes a lot of sense, actually. So Orykson… Is he a ninth gate mage? He implied seventh when we met, but I think he might be a magi. Meadow is either eighth or ninth.”

Ikki smiled, but touched his lips, indicating that he couldn’t say much more. After a few moments, however, he did speak.

“Normally, that alone would only be revealed to you if you were operating as a member of the government that worked with someone like Orykson, Meadow, or myself, or were a powerful and promising Arcanist, like those in the major league division of the Elysian Mastery Tournament.”

“That… makes sense,” I said. “That’s probably why there are rumors of a ninth gate. You said it was dangerous to the world, though, which is why it’s less publicly known than seventh and eighth.”

“I cannot say. Please, as a favor to me, do not push me further on this.”

I nodded as my brain processed the implications. None of my mentors had lied to me exactly, and it seemed like they were all bound in oaths. I was a touch annoyed at being misled, but I couldn’t truly be mad at them.

And it was interesting. What danger did it present to have too many Magi? If there was a ninth gate, was there a tenth? Every rank had a pair of gates, other than the rankless ungated mana.

Were the deep mana of fortune, destiny, and resolve involved? I felt like they had to be, at least in some regard, since it was apparently a threat to the world itself, and such forces were immense.

Unless maybe it was the other way around, and having too many Magi was too much for the world’s planar membrane or something like that. If it caused the world to break around them, like what had happened in Idyll’s realm in the final days, that would be a good reason to limit ninth gate mages.

I really didn’t know, at the end of the day, so I dismissed some of my speculation and watched Ikki continue to work. He completed the spell, and I felt a tidy knot of spellwork form in the air.

“Done,” Ikki said, dusting his hands off. “That spellwork can be triggered to form a simulacrum of me with up to peak third gate power for two hours, and it will take a week to replenish itself. It can be used up to one hundred and sixty times.”

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“And after that?” I asked.

“You will have to convince me to set a new one,” Ikki said wryly. “It could be a reasonable investment for performing well in the minor leagues of the Elysian Mastery Tournament. Perhaps if you were to win an event for time mages, or place well in the main tournament.”

“There’s the footrace, isn’t there?” I asked. “With life and time magic, I’d be good at that.”

“Perhaps,” Ikki said, then gestured and opened a portal out of Dusk. I stared at him.

“How did you do that?” I asked.

“I captured the portal’s moment in time, and simply echoed it now,” he said, striding out. I followed him through, and Ikki tapped his chin.

“I have noticed that you are beginning to grow some facial hair,” he said as we walked. “Also, your hair is an unruly mess.”

“It is getting kind of long,” I admitted. “I don’t mind it getting a bit long, but… Yeah. I was planning to get it cut soon. But yeah! I’m growing some!”

I rubbed at my chin, and Ikki gave a soft smile.

“I’m happy for you. Do you plan to continue growing your hair out, or would you prefer to shave it and keep it clean shaven?”

“What’s your opinion on the matter?” I asked, because in honesty, I was torn. On the one hand, I really wanted a beard or goatee or mustache, because now I COULD have one, when not so long ago, I couldn’t.

But on the other hand… I kinda didn’t think it would look good? A beard might, once I was older, but I wasn’t sure I could grow a beard yet, and I thought a mustache would just look weird.

“Not yet,” Ikki said. “I want your opinion first.”

I debated back and forth, before finally speaking.

“I think I’m going to shave it off for now,” I said. “I’m not convinced it would look good, and knowing that I have the ability to grow one makes me happy.”

Ikki nodded sagely.

“I think that is reasonable. You are young still, and likely couldn’t grow a true beard yet. Perhaps when you are older, you might choose to grow a beard and keep it manicured, but for now, I think shaving is the best look to present a groomed, competent appearance.”

He didn’t smile, but I caught a hint of amusement around his eyes and in his tone.

“I would have tried my best if you had wished to attempt to grow it out.”

“Thank you,” I said, touched by his thoughtfulness. We stopped outside of a barbershop, and Ikki held the door open. I entered, and the air was filled with a soft buzzing of mana-powered clippers, the snipping of scissors, and a soft scraping noise. One of the barbers, an older man in his fifties with an open chair, headed over to us.

“What can I do for you?” he asked, and Ikki put a hand on my shoulder.

“Whatever haircut he wants, and a hot towel shave. In addition, do you have hair products for purchase?”

“I certainly do,” the man said, gesturing to a wall with a series of bottles and jars on it. I’d seen similar shelves in most salons I’d gone to, but this one had a rather different selection of products.

Ikki and I walked over, and he looked over them with a critical eye, before reaching out and picking up a brown jar filled with a creamy paste.

“This is shaving butter.”

He picked up a bottle.

“Shaving cream.”

He tapped a tin.

“And shaving soap. All three of them can be applied to the face before you take the razor to it. The soap is whipped into a lather that is then applied to the face, while the butter is rubbed on in a thin layer, and the cream is liberally smeared on.”

“What’s the difference?”

“In truth, preference. A high quality shaving soap, butter, or cream is going to be good for the skin. Low quality may not. The soaps often have pleasant scents to them, which I enjoy, but they do take longer. I find it… meditative, in a fashion. But others prefer to simply shave and be done with it.”

He put them to the side, stacking them up, then picked up a pair of razors, one of which was like the cheap disposable ones that I used to use on my legs, but made of metal and with only one blade. The other looked almost like a folding knife.

“This,” he said, indicating the first one. “Is a safety razor. I recommend you start with it, as it is less likely to slip and cut your skin, though that can still happen, of course. The other is a straight razor. It offers a touch more precision, but also is easier to cut yourself with. Regardless of which you use, you should change the razor regularly, every five shaves or so.”

He placed them with the stack, and then picked up two bottles.

“Aftershave is applied after you have shaved and washed your skin. There are two varieties, generally speaking – alcoholic and nonalcoholic. The alcoholic kind does sting, which some find satisfying and cleansing, while others find painful. It does clean more, but it also strips some healthy oils, so you should apply lotion after. The nonalcoholic does not sting, and is often a lotion in and of itself.”

He put both bottles to the side, then paused to consider it.

“I think that is all for now. Though, when or if you decide to grow out a beard, you should remember to wash it, brush it out, shave, wash again, and then apply some beard oil. I would purchase some, but it has a shelf life of less than a year.”

“Wait, you’re purchasing all of that,” I said, gesturing to the pile of things, and Ikki nodded.

“You really don’t need to do that,” I said, though I felt warm inside, touched by the fact he was going through all of this for me. “It’s way too much.”

“Nonsense,” Ikki said, bringing the items to the counter and paying, then gestured for me to go to the chair.

The haircut itself was normal, with nothing major to note other than the fact I was in a space that was mostly dominated by men, unlike most of the salons I’d been to as a teen. In a way, I was reminded of being a kid and going to the barber with my dad.

The hot towel shave was entirely new, however. A soap that smelled like sandalwood was lathered onto my face with gentle brushstrokes, before a warm, damp towel was wrapped around my face, covering everything but my nose. The barber let it set for a while, before removing it and layering more soap on me, after which he took out a straight razor from a basin of sterilizer and added a new blade into it. He stretched my skin to get the hairs to pop out, then sliced the hair off with gentle scraping motions.

I thought he’d be done after that, or that he’d rub in some aftershave, but instead the barber shook out the towel to cool it, and wrapped the cool towel around my face. It felt nice on my skin, which had grown warm from the shave. Once it had sat for a bit, it was removed, and a lotion aftershave was rubbed in, before a powder was dusted over my neck and chin.

He fixed up my hair, which had gotten a bit messy from laying back for the shave, and let me go.

“How was it?” Ikki asked, handing over the bag of shaving supplies.

“It was… nice,” I said, taking the bag, then pulling Ikki into a hug. Ikki stiffened for a moment, then patted my back uncertainly. I let him go a moment later.

“Thank you,” I said, and he smiled and nodded.

“Of course.”