“Congratulations, elder sister Shinoto.”

Kenji bowed deeply to the seven year old girl who was once his friend, careful to add the title as a form of respect. She still looked the same. Dark hair with elegant features, but where she was once beautiful, she had become an adorably cute child once again. Her eyes however, shone like that of a girl her true age. It was the one thing his people said could never be reversed by the ropes.

The eyes.

Shinoto proved the point by rolling hers at him with a playful giggle, something she did often when he would say something ridiculous.

“You don’t need to call me that, you idiot,” Shinoto said, swatting him on the thigh. “I’m still the same person I was before the ceremony.”

Kenji smiled at her graciousness. They both knew it was a lie. The blessing of the Han arts had literally transformed Shinoto into a younger self, able to re-cultivate the eight stages of ascension and double her concentration of Qi, all while retaining her 17 years of experience in a body a fraction of that age.

While he was happy for her, seeing her like this troubled him inside. No longer was she the beautiful young woman he had hoped to dance with at the festival, to cross the line between friendship to something more. Now she was a child with a gold stripe added to her off-white timed robe.

To find a mate was a difficult task within the Han clan. Not only did someone suitable need to be found, both in terms of station and prestige, but their rebirth and cultivation cycles needed to also match. Couples would often delay a rebirth in tandem to have children and then likewise roll-back to the youth and strength of their twenties to raise them.

But there could be no such match for Kenji now—at least not with Shinoto.

His stomach dropped as an emptiness consumed him.

She’d moved on without him.

He had just lost his chances with Shinoto, forever…

*          *          *

The fireworks of the post ceremony celebration flashed and popped in the clear blue sky, sending puffs of white smoke falling over the village. The square was alive with music and dancing and the smell of roasting meat-skewers mixed with that of piping hot broth and steaming buns and noodles. Kenji avoided a team of dancing children as he balanced two bowls of noodles in his palms crossing the street to where Shinoto was seated upon the porch of her father’s general store.

He sat next to her and handed her one of the bowls.

“Did you ask for extra chili oil?” Shinoto said, inspecting the noodles with a twirl of her chopsticks.

“Taste and find out.” He grinned at her. “Cheers.”

Kenji knocked his bowl with hers and then slurped a long string of thin noodles, enjoying the flavor of soy sauce, mixed with seared pork and spicy chilies. He savored both the food and the time to relax. There would be no work today, due to the celebration and Kenji hoped to make the best of it.

Despite her new appearance, Kenji found it easy to talk with Shinoto as he always had. Between slurps of noodles he listened to her as she laid out her new plan for herself, now that she had been rebirthed; a goal she had worked towards for over a year.

Shinoto had had trouble cultivating Qi at first. It was why they were often paired together throughout their youth. And while she had worked hard to overcome her difficulties, progressing from first tier to eighth in less than a year, she was not considered a prodigy by any means. She had only just reached the eight tier of elemental ascension a month ago at age 17, while a true prodigy could perhaps reach that stage at ten. That was the other reason she was so special to Kenji. She was considered a dullard like he was when it came to the mystic arts.

Or at least she had been…until today.

“If I reach the fourth tier by the time I’m 14 again, I could perhaps qualify to join one of the mystic schools.”

“You’d be ready to go by then, you think?”

“I should have a much better chance against the other clan entries.” She then winked at him. “I’d really be 24, remember?”

She laughed as she nudged him. This was yet another reason Shinoto was special to him. She could perhaps live a much easier life remaining a store keeper in Han Village, but she craved more. Shinoto yearned to see the outside world, while most Han people, himself included were happy to stay within the shelter and safety of the clan. Even for him, in as low a station as he was, he was well off compared to other clans. Simply being a Han came with an air of prestige and privilege.

And at least life would remain predictable, if not mundane. The life of a mystic artist on the other hand was fraught with endless training and hardships and most would likely come to a violent end on some bloody battlefield, fighting any number of the Zhou Empire’s many enemies to the north.

But besides all that, simply being able to join a mystic school was a rare achievement and yet another path denied to Kenji. While the clans within the empire each had a specialty, they were limited to learning only those techniques. The Han were, of course, renowned for their rebirthing techniques, the Kurogane for their steel and metal works, the Shiruku for their silk and textiles and the Amatsu for their medicinal and healing arts. But once a year, the empire recruited the best and brightest of the four artisan clans to join one of the mystic schools, where the martial techniques were taught: Blade, Fist, Spear and Soul. In such schools reaching the eight tier of ascension was only the beginning. There were levels upon levels beyond that, measure in Dans, each with eight tiers of their own. There was no limit on what Dan one could reach, even as far as to gain immortality, if the legends were true. It was perhaps the reason the Han clan was privileged among the rest. To have a similar system of dual ascension with their rebirthing and gold stripes, put them on nearly the same status.

Kenji sighed inwardly. Shinoto was not gifted, yet she was never one to give up on her dreams. Even if it took her years. Already she was preparing to train seven more years just to get a chance to live her dream of becoming a mystic warrior. And being a Han, it was likely to come true. The schools would much more readily accept a gold striped third or fourth than even a prodigy from another clan.

Meanwhile, Kenji would likely remain a dullard at 24 when Shinoto eventually ventured off to one of the mystic schools—following her dream.

“Your time will come, Kenji,” Shinoto said resting a hand on his forearm, perhaps sensing his thoughts, or even catching the dejected look on his face. “Keep training. It’s what did it for me. Remember I spend 16 years as an Off White.”

He chuckled and pointed at her robe. “You’re still an Off White.”

She nudged him back. “I’ll help you get your gold stripe too. Then we can train to join one of the mystic schools together.” Her eyes then widened as if suddenly remembering something. “We can train together now! Now that I’m rebirthed, I can start all over again at base tier with you. I’ll come over to your house tomorrow after work. How’s that?”

Kenji couldn’t resist the infection smile she had as she looked up at him.

“Thanks Shinoto,” Kenji said with a nod. “I’d like that.”

 She was anything if not enthusiastic; even if it would likely lead only to more disappointment. “I’ll look forward to it.”

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

“Oh, look what the elders gifted me!” Shinoto said as she unwrapped a small cloth in her hand and then showed it to him. Within it was a yellow apple the size of a pea.

“Was that from the tree we rebirthed last month?”

“You should know,” Shinoto said with another jab to his side. “Didn’t you place the ropes on it yourself?”

Kenji chucked. “Probably.”

For all his lack of internal strength, Kenji was blessed with at least one gift from the heavens, even though at times it felt like a curse. He was tall for his age. And his height was matched only by his strength. But in a village where youth was prized as a symbol of great power, he was destined to be an oddity. Thankfully his work in the orchards was well suited for his body.

Kenji looked again at the diminutive apple in Shinoto’s palm. He had seen such fruit numerous times. If it was from the tree he presumed, that apple contained over two centuries of concentrated essence. To be granted such a gift would make even a mystic warrior envious.

Cultivating was a slow process, accelerated only by one’s prowess with the mystic arts. But even if one was a prodigy, it took time—years. But nature concentrated Qi on its own accord and for a tree rebirthed twice in over two hundred years, the fruit it produced was potent. Shinoto could perhaps skip the entire first or even second tier of her new ascension by eating that apple and cycling it through her body.

“I want you to have it,” Shinoto said and thrust it into his hand.

He blinked. “What?”

“You’ve been training for as long and as hard as I have, Kenji. Harder even. I’m sure you must be on the cusp of a breakthrough. If you channeled that apple, perhaps you could ascent to the eighth tier right away.”

The thought was almost fantastical—to reach jade level instantly? But there were reasons why he hadn’t even reached the first tier yet. “My father said it won’t work like that for me. It isn’t that my doma is weak or dilute…it’s like… it’s like it doesn’t exist.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Shinoto said. “Every living thing has one. Even animals. How do you think the great Spirit beasts come about?”

She had a point. But if that were true, it only made the real truth that much worse. “Then it’s what my father says…my doma is damaged.”

Shinoto grew silent and cast her eyes to the ground.

Normally she probably would have pushed the issue more, but she perhaps knew the reason as to why his doma worked more like a hole-riddled bucket than the vessel of spiritual containment that it should.

“It’s okay,” Kenji said. “It is the fate the heavens have dealt me. My father always told me I was lucky to have survived with only this scar. My mother…she was not so lucky.”

Kenji had never known his mother. The traumatic birth that had claimed her life had indeed scarred his own and he still bore the mark to prove it. He felt absently for the scar tissue right below his navel, the point where his doma should be.

“I’m sorry to have reminded you of that,” Shinoto said.

He smiled at her. “It’s no bother. Maybe you’re right. Maybe the fruit will work. But it’s your gift, not mine.”

“I want you to have it,” she said, thrusting it to him.

Kenji pushed it back to her. “It’s your gift, Shinoto. You’ve earned it. And if you want to become a mystic warrior someday, you’d make far better use of it than me.”

“Our plan is to still go together, remember?” She nudged him again. “Me the Soul Master and you the Sword Saint. Or did you want to become a Fist Master? With your build, you’d make a great Fist Master, I think.”

“A Fist Master?” someone said. “He’d be lucky to make First Tier!”

A cackle of laughed followed.

Kenji looked up to see three boys in robes with orange trim, each with a single stripe of gold.

“What do you want Chet Fai?” Shinoto glowered at the boy in the center.

Chet Fai was tall for a ten year old, his long hair pulled into a braid much like Shinoto’s, his eyes sharp and jade like hers as well. Next to him, his two flunkies, Wu Long and Shiro leered and scoffed like jackals.

“Yeah,” Wu Long, a plump boy with a bald head said. “He’d need a hundred year rope to rebirth by the time he ever reached Jade.”

The boys laughed again. The third boy, Shiro didn’t say anything as usual. He was small, even when he’d been a teenager. But what he lacked in height he made up for with cunning and wit. Shiro came from one of the few families to have been blessed to have a mystic warrior among them—or at least one that actually returned to Han village. His father had been a Soul Master, one able to manipulate the Qi stored in his doma to throw powerful elemental bursts from his bare hands. And by his rapid advancement, Shiro if anyone was destined to follow in his father’s footsteps and be picked from their village to join one of the Mystic Schools.

“Why are you hanging around this cripple?” Chet Fai said without even looking at Kenji. “It was embarrassing before when you were both teenagers, but now to be seen together is outright shameful. Don’t you feel the stares?”

“Leave us alone!” Shinoto said.

Kenji rested a hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay. He’s probably right.”

Shame crept into his stomach as he said it. Even now, amongst the four of them, he felt an outsider. Like a giant idiot. He should be the same height as them, the same age as them—the same tier.

“See,” Chet Fai said. “Even a dog knows its place.” Chet Fai looked at him then, a repugnant smirk on his lips. “Good dog.”

Shame shifted to ire. “There was no need for that. You made your point, Chet Fai.”

The smirk on his face grew into a bemused smile. “Oh? You look like you want to hit me now. Would you like to try, Off White?”

The jackals laughed again.

“I’d like to see him try,” Wu Long said. “Chet Fai could kill him with his little finger.”

“Damn right, I could.” Chet Fai leveled his eyes at Kenji. “You remember that.”

“Bet you couldn’t if he were rebirthed,” Shinoto said. “You’re a coward, Chet Fai. If you were equal rank, you’d be the one to be killed.”

“That right? You think he’s special?” Chet Fai scoffed with a laugh. “The only person he’s been able to kill…is his own mother.”

Kenji’s stomach lurched with an explosion.

He was off the step before he knew it, his fist flying. The move took them all by surprise and his knuckles slammed full force into the soft, ten year old face of the near twenty year old Chet Fai. Pain snapped through his wrists as the force of his hit lifted the boy off the ground. Chet Fai flailed in midair before landing hard on his back, winded.

Time stood still.

The rapid thud of his heartbeat raged within Kengi’s ears. What have I done?

His anger quickly receded into fear as Chet Fai lifted himself from the ground. Already steam was pouring from the bruise he’d left on Chet Fai’s cheek, the orange-tiered gold stripe already channeling his Qi to remove the pain and reform any damage to his body.

Curse the nine hells…

The tiers of ascension were not martial forms, but they were the foundation. Even a third tier could outdo Kenji’s enormous body in terms of raw power, strength and stamina, even while in the body of a child. And now he faced an angry third tier with a gold stripe.

Essentially an eleventh tier.

Every cultural instinct in Kenji’s body screamed for him to fall to his knees and beg for forgiveness. Even Shinoto who stared with an open mouth, was conveying the same thing through her trembling jade eyes.

Kneel! Kneel!

But then something else filled him, something alien but not unfamiliar. He’d experienced it only a few times before. Once when he had dared to climb a hundred foot banyan tree and nearly fell, catching his footing at just the last moment. Another when he chased off a pair of wolves that had wandered into the orchard.

It was like anger and resentment mixed into one, swelling his heart with fire and pride.

Defiance—that was the emotion—an insolence bold enough to war against even the heavens themselves. And now it was aimed at Chet Fai.

“Take your best shot,” Kenji said.

Fearlessness took him as he prepared to face the repercussion his actions. If it ended with only broken bones he would be lucky. Chet Fai’s lip curled with anger and even from ten feet away, Kenji could feel the pressure of his inner strength building as he gathered Qi from his doma.

In a flash, Chet Fai leapt forward with a lightning quick strike.

Kenji did nothing to stop it, prepared to harden his defiance with blood. A second passed and the punch never reached him. Confusion took hold as he looked up to see not Chet Fai standing before him, but the much taller figure of his father, Ben Fai.

Ben Fai looked only in his thirties, but was perhaps fifty by now. He shared Chet Fai’s jade eyes and long hair. Eyes which now blazed like hot coals as he held onto Chet Fai’s outstretched hand like a vice about the wrist.

“What is the meaning of this?” Ben fai bellowed, looking between them.

“He struck me!” Chet Fai said. “The Off White struck me!”

Bing Fai looked to Shinoto. “Is this true?”

Shinoto glanced at Kenji with an almost apologetic frown before turning back to Ben Fai. “Yes. He did.”

Ben Fai released a long breath through his nostrils, his eyes piercing Kenji’s own. For a moment, the defiance dared to rear its head again, but humility and perhaps common sense finally prevailed and Kenji sank to his knees.

“It is true. I struck him. I deeply apologize. It was in rash anger. Please forgive, this one for his insolence and unrestraint.”

“I deserve to regain my honor!” Chet Fai said, glaring up at his father. “He has offended our family!”

Ben Fai tossed his hand towards the ground. “You are still a boy in my home. Your honor is not your own. And you will not soil mine by striking an elder’s son.”

Relief ran though Kenji at hearing the words. It appeared his station in life had saved him once again. But Ben Fai didn’t seem happy about it. He leveled his jade eyes at Kenji. “Go home to your father now, Kenji. We will not speak of this exchange. Do you understand?”

Kenji nodded profusely. “Absolutely. Thank you Master Ben Fai. You show me tremendous grace with your discretion.”

“That goes for all of you,” Ben Fai said looking over his shoulder at Wu Long and Shiro. “Go home to your families.”

The two boys ran off then and Ben Fai looked to Shinoto and Chet Fai. “You two… inside. Now.”

Ben Fai marched into the general store, followed reluctantly by Shinoto who gave him a small wave that she darned not let Chet Fai or Ben Fai see. When she disappeared inside the general store, Chet Fai approached him next.

“Consider yourself lucky, cripple,” Chet Fai said as he stopped just before the door. “If you ever touch me again, I’ll kill you.”

Kenji could feel the anger and hatred in his eyes. Chet Fai meant every world of it.

He left then, but not before spitting out words that to Kenji, were far more threatened than the first: “Stay away from my sister.”