The next morning, as Noble went once more into Kenji’s operating room, Saila set about her task. The wish last night was sturdy assurance of her choice, but she still had to act. That was as true as anything, far as she was aware.

“I want you to train me,” she asked.

Koryu simply dished out breakfast to her- what she could only discern was some kind of delicious looking Kaigan pancake- and said “eat.”

“I said, I want you to train me.”

Koryu went back to the crowded counter that was their kitchen and started preparing his own meal, without even a response.

She grumbled- flinching from the previous day’s events adding to her lingering injuries. A sigh escaped her lips, and she focused on eating.

No use bothering while he’s working, then. Stupid meat head, grmbr- oh damn this is good! So savory!!

Finally, Koryu finished his cooking, sat down, and began to eat as well. Not even a glance was thrown her way, and that irked her; the least he could do was respond now. Her grumbling, subsided by food, grew stronger and spread to her chest.

She shouted, pancake in her mouth;

“Come on, I know you can hear me! I want you te-”

“Eat,” he said, sharp and cold. “Then we train. There’s an order to things.”

Then silence, save the sound of cutlery.

She’d be annoyed if she wasn’t thrilled he accepted her so easy.

And if breakfast hadn’t been so good.

###

“So… where do we start?”

Saila paced around the sands, urgency itching away at her like the lingering remnants of blood and stone on her bandaged shoulder.

“Patience,” Koryu said. He looked around, taking stock of the area.

Koryu had taken her a short jog out from their wagon, out into the Anarkali. The gentle white-gold, ever-shifting sands would serve as a good place for this he’d said simply… in not so many words.

“What are you looking for?”

“Witnesses- and patience.”

Saila grumbled “I am patient…” under her breath and poked at the sand with her make-shift brass staff. We’re in the Anarkali! The only things to ‘witness’ anything are sand-lizards. Grmb… why’d he have me bring my staff anyway, if he didn’t bring anything himself?

Seemingly satisfied with his search, Koryu turned back towards her- and in one fluid moment, disrobed. The traveling robes, the heavy yet loose shirt, the soft gloves, all of it off into the sand. Only the upper layers, though Saila still jumped in surprise when it starts.

Underneath it all; a tightly toned body, muscles taught and figure lean- more athletic than a backroom brawler, less a slab of meat but a finely cut steak. The tangled mess of black that was his hair seemed almost intentional, out from under the hood, and flowed like a wild mane.

His arms and chest- that she could see, he wore a sheer, black undershirt underneath all that outer gear and that he kept on- were covered in brutal scars, that did little to reduce the strength that radiated from him. There was a staggering confidence in his posture, and old scars only amplified it. Lightly tanned from the sun, he looked as something chiseled, something that had faced all dangers life had thrown at him and stood tall.

Saila found, to put it mildly, that she was extremely jealous of the man.

“Holy shit!” She said- barely able to pick her jaw up off the floor.

He shifted in place, feet spread, one hand loose and near his chin, the other outstretched- palm up, fingers curling. “Come. Attack me.”

“Uh… you sure?” Saila looked at her thrown together weapon- really more an instrument for dancing, a bit of railroad metal she’d spent a month sanding down with ‘borrowed’ materials. It’d served her well, but…

It wasn’t really much of a weapon.

But it was still a weapon.

“I don’t wanna hurt you, you know? Kenji’ll be annoyed.”

“He won’t be.”

Saila hit her staff against her palm, reminding herself of the weight. “Heh… if you insist. Don’t go crying to your boss if you get hurt!”

Of course, she’d never really used it in a real fight before- she’d bopped a few people, and squarely struck that soldier in the sack- but she figured a fight was sorta like dancing, right? She could dance pretty good, so she could fight pretty good too.

It’d be fine- she could pull her punches.

With a holler, Saila charged the distance between them- about fifteen feet- pulling back her staff to swing at his side.

Koryu’s hand flashed.

Too quick to see. She braced mid stride.

Nothing.

Then, something cold and smooth.

Wu- what ttthaa“aaaAHG!!”

She stumbled, expected sand giving way to something- before she could react, Koryu covered the remaining distance in a single bound and kicked.

Sand burst up in a familiar torrent, blinding her.

“Ah god damnit not more SA-!”

Before she could finish, Koryu entire right hand shot firmly onto her face, clutching it with a surprising softness that belayed the fact that, if he’d wanted, he could probably crush it like an egg. Then he tapped her in the stomach with his other hand, gently.

“That’s one.”

He let go, then deftly stepped back.

Saila simply fell to her butt.

“How’d you do that!?” she asked, looking back to see what terrible trap of his had caught her unaware. Behind her, subtle in the sand, was a glimmering patch of ice.

“Wh- what?!”

“Hm. You don’t… ah, right.”

He held out his right hand- the hand that had flashed- and snapped his fingers.

Despite the morning sun, the air grew chill; a faint frost grew across Koryu’s hand and forearm… and on the ground around him, icy patches half-concealed by the sands

Saila leapt to her feet, spitting sparks.

“You’ve got one of those mancy things too! Why didn’t you tell me? Th- that’s… that’s cheating!!”

“And?” Koryu said simply, slipping into his combat stance with practiced ease.

Cold, direct, and tinged with just enough superiority to set a rumbling in her chest something fierce. Crackles of fire danced behind her teeth.

She charged again- a shorter distance now- and swung with great intent at his right arm.

He caught it, of course, and went in for a strike with his left- right into a gout of flame.

Just a quick breath, nothin’ that’ll hurt, just spook h- Saila thought, interrupted when another foot’s worth of sand was kicked up into her open mouth. The left-hand blow had been a feint, and he told her such as Saila collapsed on the sand, coughing up the Anarkali’s white-gold gift, rivulets of ember vomit mixed in.

Then, hand till firmly grasped around her make-shift staff, Koryu poked her in the back.

“Two,” he said, once more stepping back into position.

Saila lurched to her feet, rubbing liquid fire from the edge of her mouth, still coughing.

“You’re a- cough cough- a right bastard, you know that? Who taught who, you or thu- cough, the roostersnake?”

“Basilisk, and-”

“Bassywhatever!”

“- I, then Yari. He picked it up.”

Said so matter-of-fact, Saila felt she could choke on it along with the after-breakfast side-dish of sand.

“Where’d you… cough, where you’d learn to fight, anyway?” Saila asked, doing her best to study him for an opening- and not trying to catch her wind, she assured herself, surely not.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“Shu-Han, off the coast of Kaiga,” he said simply. “Where I met Ken.”

“How’d you learn about your ice-mancy then? If I’ve got you talking.”

“Hmph,” was his answer. Then, something shifted in his stance- and his right arm, still frosted up, still clutching her staff, cracked like glass. Skin crumbled away, revealing an icy-blue second layer beneath. Scales like layered flower petals sheathed the outside of his arm, broken up only by the ever-present scars, carved into the floral finish of his flesh. The damaged tissue, now recovered, was a murky ocean-blue, and there were broken or missing scales were the wicked wounds crossed them.

The change stopped just below the shoulder, and one particular scar spread across that divide, the deepest of them all.

“What the… a- are you a demon?”

“Yes- half,” he said, tossing her staff back to her. It was ice-cold where his fingers had been, enough to sting. “Among other things.”

“Among other… tch.” Saila felt a twitch in her eye. “You know, the two of you are definitely hiding something. I swear I could smell magic in the carriage, and now this! I’d assume Mister Kenji knows, then? Who- or what, are you two anyway?”

Had it not been for Noble’s story last night, she might not have had the confidence to ask- but at this point it was clear there was more than she could possibly understand going on. But that wouldn’t stop her from trying. Secret military groups that knew this supernatural truth, a mysterious doctor wandering the battlefield in the aftermath? It all added to something, she just couldn’t figure out what.

For the first time, the vaguest hint of a smile cracked through Koryu’s stony exterior. Then he said, in that ice-edged tone of his; “We’re married.”

Saila froze solid.

In an instant, Koryu cleared the distance between them.

He swung in for a kick to the face.

“WAIT WHA-AGHUA!!”

It wasn’t a heavy hit, but surprise at having missed something so obvious in retrospect, getting lost looking at forests when trying to find trees, had left her completely flatfooted. Saila spiraled through the air and landed in the sand with a soft thud.

Head spinning, she looked up at the shimmering sun, and lay still.

Koryu walked over, knelt over her, and gave her an icy- if amused- grin.

“And that’s three. Learned your lesson?”

Saila nodded- out of reflex more than answer.

Without skipping a beat, he simply said “Lesson one; your enemy will surprise you. Next time, be prepared.”

Koryu walked off.

Saila popped up from the sand, almost falling over from the force of it.

“Wait a- are you SERIOUS?! You’re MARRIED?!”

“Correct”

“TO KENJI!? BUT YOU- AND HE- HE’S…”

He looked back at her, that icy-grin fading into the slightest bit of embarrassment that looked positively boyish. “He’s… nice. Yeah.”

Then he resumed walking back

“After lunch, we’ll go for lesson two. From there… we’ll see.”

Flabbergasted, Saila ran after. Despite the shock- and the soreness that seeped back in under it, she felt she’d gained something today. Two things, in fact; she’d learned more about their hosts for one, and for two secured the training she had wanted.

Despite it all, she felt a faint surge of confidence.

Then she hit the icy patch Koryu had first left in her path, and fell flat on her face.

###

Auspicious start aside, there was a silver-lining to it all.

When they’d returned and explained to Kenji where they’d been and why, he’d simply fetched a rubber mallet- the sort used to test reflexes- and started chasing Koryu around, shouting concerns over taking their young guest out into the sands to ‘beat her to death’, in his words.

It was, Saila noticed, a touch put-upon, but it made her laugh, and that helped fight back against the aches. The realization that the ‘witnesses’ he was so worried about was his husband had Saila in stitches.

It also taught her something else; no one can’t be defeated. Koryu was, by all regards, the stronger of the two- but a withering, half-forced stare and a weak, if forceful, couple of smacks to the shoulder had felled him utterly. Their training, Koryu said, would begin tomorrow.

Properly, of course. No more kicks to the face.

Seeing the man sulking about it was like a fracture in his ice-cold image- he did not seem so insurmountable anymore.

Of course, she hadn’t found anything he’d done odd- sparring like this was common in her dime-novels, and what better way was there to see what fundamentals were known and which were lacking? In truth, looking back at it with a belly full of lunch and a head full of thought, Koryu’s heavy-handed thrashing was what she needed.

Back home in Dehali, her mother would at times talk about how her father danced. The image her words invoked seemed to hold a magic to them- it was in part why she had learned to dance herself.

Bridging the gap from image to reality had been hard. Stories were not attentive teachers, and any chance to learn from him or her had passed with the flickering flames of her memory. Finding books on dancing had been tricky- the import shop carried at best a manual of basic steps that had been inadequate at best.

She’d managed, though, and now she could move with what she felt was a certain sort of elegance and grace. She’d practiced night to dawn, watched her moves with pained attention in a discarded mirror she had found, had worked till her feet bled and her legs stiffened and her arms felt like jelly.

Truthfully, she had no idea how good she was. Enough to draw attention, enough to make some money, but that was all.

But not so with this.

Here, she had a teacher.

Here, she had someone to advise her.

Here, she had a stick with which she could measure herself.

Saila made a vow to beat Koryu in a sparring match before their time with the two wanderers was over.

That was a goal she could reach.

She could feel it in her bones, and in the fire building in her chest.

###

Training, as Koryu promised, had become a more proper thing.

Warm ups stretches, repetitive drills, basic athletic exercises, all things to toughen her up for what were- to her at least- the important parts. Some of it was tedious, and a lot of it was frustrating; running laps around the carriage in the softly shifting sands of the Anarkali was a lot more difficult without an angry, stone-beaked roostersnake nipping at her heels.

Beyond that, there was the work; Kenji may have taken her side at first, but the instant it was clear she wasn’t actually hurting anymore he’d put her straight away on cleaning and repairs. You did not walk a carriage through a vast sea of sand and expect it to go undamaged, after all. She also tended to the camels and Matchsticks- who clearly had ingratiated himself with the former-, helped feed the chickens, and even at times assisted in the cooking, as much as she could manage.

The work was hard- Matchsticks fondness for the camels made it troublesome to clean and feed them, and Yari’s satisfied glare made her want to try for a second round against him as well- but ultimately, tolerable.

It wasn’t all bad though. Noble’s recovery progressed enough that he could laze about the carriage, so they could talk while she worked. He’d even started reading one of her books, and idly rambling about it with him was a welcome gentle kindness. And of course, bit by bit, the old gunslinger recovered further. Kenji’s medicine and repair-work went at a slower pace than that first day, to keep them both from collapsing under it all, but the prognosis was, it seemed, a good one.

Saila did her best to hide just how relieved she was at that, and failed utterly.

Soon he could even join them for meals, eating with the ridiculous mask tilting method Saila had quickly grown accustom to across their traveling together. Here she’d rave and ramble about her training progress, and he would smile, nod, drop his mask to say a few words or ask a few questions, then up again the mask would go to eat more food or drink more tea.

Face concealed or not Saila could always feel the faint, sharp smile of his. That always filled her with a surge of confidence.

Confidence that served her well- whether it was part of the training or simply a secret insistence from the gunslinger himself, Noble spoke with her of things. Of demons, monsters and magic. Passing on what he himself learned in that horrific hell he carried with him, turning it for good- if only just.

That so much could go by without others noticing was wild to her, but a part of it made sense. Even she’d been surprised to see the scale-like feathers of Koryu’s demonic arm, and he was simply half a demon- even if they were just people, the sight of their true selves would surely be a frightening thing.

She wondered if that was part of why the two traveled.

She wondered if that was part of why she travelled too.

Whatever the answer was, this place was safe. No creatures- beast or monster both- disturbed their carriage as it stayed along that smooth rock in that vast sea of sand, and beyond when they started moving towards civilization.

Slowly but surely, bit by bit, time slipped away. The ruthless heat of summer faded into a gentle- if all together still far too hot- autumn-time.

Four months. That’s how long it was till they went their separate ways.

###

Saila dashed towards him, newly-made sandals kicking up sand with every step. She swished her brass staff- after the improvements Kenji made it truly was a staff, no longer a length of scrap metal- through the air, flames intermingling with the white-gold treasure to make a sparkling mirage of heat.

Koryu’s own staff sliced through the air with the sort of frozen ferocity she’d come to except of him- he’d used his cryomancy, as he called it, to make a staff of his own- aiming to knock her off course.

Not this time!

She ducked to evade, crouching mid stride.

The shimmering flames stayed solid.

The icy blow swiped through them- aim true, but target false.

Saila vaulted with her staff, lunging from her crouch into an epic leap that a part of her filed away for later dancing, and with a spiraling swing of her staff, slammed down on Koryu with her full strength and weight.

The impact was like the sound of ice-cubes scattering and glass shattering.

Koryu, through his chilly expression, was smiling- a match to the eager, fiery grin etched on her face, sparks dancing at her teeth.

With a step like water, he retreated and swung up in the same motion- an airborne target had little power to maneuver, and in that brief moment she was open.

But she’d expected the block.

And thanks to him, she knew her strengths.

Among them; holding her breath till the last moment.

A burst of flame erupted forth from her mouth, enough to propel her out of the way of Koryu’s retaliatory swing- and hot enough to seep into the cracks her blow had left, shattering it in his hands.

Saila landed, rough but sturdy.

Koryu turned to follow, rime building on his arms.

The remnants of his staff flickered, starting to reform.

Too late.

The flat tip of Saila’s staff pressed into the underside of Koryu’s chin. With the sort of swagger typical of a girl her age, she slapped him in the gut.

“That’s one for me, old man!”

“I’ve already hit you twice,” he countered, but that did little to reduce her pride.

Winning wasn’t the point here. She just wanted to prove she could.

“Details!” she said, deflecting just a little. “And, um… thank you, sen… say?”

“Close enough.”

Saila shrugged. “I’ll get it… next time.”

“Saila, little ryu, you two done?”

Kenji, calling from afar, helping prepare Matchsticks for the journey- the poor horse looked inconsolable.

Koryu’s face went red. “D- no pet-names in front of the child!” he said, as he did his best to rush off without looking too embarrassed- a thing Saila had quickly learned was not one of his strengths at all. She laughed a somewhat subdued laugh, though a happy one all the same

Noble, sitting off at a safe distance, laughed with her.

“You did good, little lady,” Noble said.

Saila felt a bit of heat- her own embarrassment- build. “I- really? Do you think I’m ready?”

“Suppose so.” Noble shrugged. “Though what matters is if you think you are.”

“Yeah…,” Saila said. She looked off at the two- Koryu chattering in the distance with Kenji the way only two lovebirds really could. She’d gotten used to all this after so long- and truthfully, a part of her didn’t want to go.

Noble rose to his feet and dusted the sand off his cloak- the light brown one, with a colour pattern around the edge that she’d gotten him back in Samudr-tat. He was hale and hearty- though Kenji had insisted he be cautious. Looking carefully, even Saila could see the faint lines that marked the scars of a shattered body.

She herself wore the lovely pale-red dancing clothes she’d found, and was sure the little bit of luck they gave her sealed that fiery victory for her. If Noble was a damaged shield, she was a spear freshly forged. A certain kind of strength flowed through her, like liquid fire in the veins.

“Well, Saila. I suppose we should be off then- into the sunset, as we wanderers tend to do.”

Saila’s introspective reverie broke with another laugh, this one hearty and full-chested.

“Oh do not quote book lines at me soldier-man! This is serious!”

He laughed, she swiped his hat and put it on, then dashed back to the others, Noble on her heels.

Matchsticks was loaded. The two of them rose to the saddle- Noble at the lead, reins in his hands, Saila sitting with her legs hanging off the back.

“Stay safe you two!”

“Don’t die.”

“We won’t, old man!”

“Ah, and don’t worry! We’ll be in Zarrhdad soon enough- if you’re still there, we’ll drop on by!”

“Will keep that in mind, Mister Aoki.”

The undulating cries of camels, and the faintest despairing whine of a clay-red horse filled the air.

Saila waved as they departed, and did not cry, no matter how much the stains on her face said otherwise.

######