The canopy of pine needles rustled in the wind. Their bright summer greenery soaked in the sun that hit the mountainside that they called home. The thin air, the snow, the storms, the harsh rocky terrain, none of this mattered to the enduring pine trees that made up this forest. They were content to grow and live while the world turned. Branches would emerge and extend to bring in what light they could. Their trunks would elongate and thicken. They would grow as tall as they could manage and then stand sentinel for as long as they were allowed. The shade they provided to the simple stone terrace beneath did not concern them. Nor did the pair of young students who had just arrived. They were content to exist in a quiet, uneventful way.

Yu Wanxi studied his opponent as they circled each other. The assessment of strength, of hidden weapons, of intent. His sword, a thin jian gifted to him by his father years ago, was raised in one hand, with the scabbard in the other. Carefully, foot over foot, he traced a path around the perimeter of the stone patio, an orbit mirrored by his adversary.

She was dressed in a long, flowing robe, dyed a vibrant yellow with red striping along the edges. It was embroidered with a dazzling display of flowers, leaves, and birds, clearly meticulously crafted. Her shoulder-length hair was pulled back and held in place by a circlet of fabric, a red flower proudly tucked in. It was an ostentatious outfit for combat. His modest attire of a dark blue ruqun jacket with slacks was well-made and highly functional, perfectly suited for a student of a martial sect. His long hair was tied off into a ponytail by a simple piece of string.

The girl’s movements were graceful, with a fluid confidence in motion. The long dress made it difficult to follow her footwork. It didn't matter at this range; Wanxi held his straight sword while she held nothing, giving him priority when the blows finally were to be exchanged. He stepped diligently, mindful of the placement of the stones on the hillside patio. A single bench in the middle separated the two, again to his favor. Still, he had to be mindful of any ranged attacks she could launch. He had practiced deflecting needles, but the world was full of many tricks.

“You look scared, thief. Perhaps that sword is for show? Or it’s a child’s toy! It’s perfectly fine to withdraw if you cannot commit to your words.” The girl held a serious expression. Her dark eyes were focused. Her timbre matched. The taunt was nothing to mind, just an attempt to rattle him.

“Oh? You think I wasn’t ready when I challenged you? That’s rich. I should have let you change into more fitting clothes. It will be a shame to ruin such a lovely dress with my sword,” Wanxi replied as he continued the delicate game of positioning. He had no intention of injuring the girl, just putting her into an obviously losing position to demonstrate his superiority and win back some of the face that she had soured by accusing him of thievery.

“Oh no, I wish to look my finest when I show the Black Heron sect the defeated face of a thief.” The girl halted, feet wide, one knee forward, arms outstretched wide. It was an unfamiliar fighting stance to the young Wudang-clan swordsman. Her arms swayed inward, her hands cupped and upright. He could see now that her fingers were tattooed with elongated triangles and her knuckles were similarly adorned with circles.

“You accuse me of being a thief and you expect me to not defend myself? Engarde! I’ll let you try my Wudang style!” Yu Wanxi raised his jian in preparation. He did one final sweep of his surroundings. The foreign girl had not brought any hidden back-up and was not planning on striking at him with ranged weaponry. The advantage was to his sword.

“I’d like to try your Wudang style! Let’s begin then!”

The swordsman leaned forward and launched himself towards the girl, seeming to fly through the air. His foot stepped gracefully onto the stone bench, propelling him forward. His sword twirled. The glint of steel flashing like a mirror with each rotation. The flying sword of the Wudang clan was famous for its speed and agility, known to end duels in a single heroic strike.

The robed girl lifted one leg and rotated her arms, bringing one upward and down. The entire motion was done with extreme precision and confidence, with no change to the girl’s expression. She leaned into the attack, her elbow extended out to the very edge of her range, connecting tip to tip with Wanxi’s jian. A sound like metal striking rock rang out; the weapon clearly struck her flesh but did not penetrate. Instead, it reverberated with energy.

Wanxi was shocked. He twisted his body to alter his momentum, vaulting over the colorful girl, the bold acrobatics of the Wudang on full display. He landed on the short wall defining the outer edge of the patio. His sword hand stung. Whatever energy the girl had imparted into the sword had traveled down the blade and now he felt it.

The girl wasted no time, stepping in like a dancer moving to an unheard beat. Her right leg stretched out and back while her left knee bent forward, both hands outstretched. Wanxi moved his jian to intercept, using the flat of the blade to absorb the blow. There was a sharp metallic ping in the forest.

Wanxi’s blade vibrated, sending shockwaves down the shaft. His fingers instantly numbed and released their grip on the hilt. He had been pushed to the edge of the short wall and his balance was perilously close to giving way. Out of desperation, he kicked up, colliding his knee with the girl’s wrists. Her hands wheeled out and away. The sword collided with his thigh and bounced off awkwardly.

Wanxi watched in shock as the jian went clattering onto the patio. His right hand was now throbbing from the girl’s strike. He would have to use the scabbard in his left hand as a club instead of a shield. He looked up to plan his attack. That’s when he noticed the girl’s hands gripping the collar of his ruqun.

The young swordsman was pulled off the stone wall, his downward momentum offering no chance to propel himself away. He tried to roll with the throw, but his lower back collided with the bench he cleared earlier. The air in his lungs escaped in a gasp of pain. He laid awkwardly sprawled out on both the ground and the bench at the same time. Wanxi squinted and drew in a shallow breath as a foot was placed onto his chest. A final indignity.

“The virtuous stand,” the foot pressed down, “above the wicked. That would be you, in case you couldn’t tell. Yu Wanxi, you are a defeated thief. Now tell me where you hid my comb.”

“I already told you,” Wanxi struggled to get the words out. The wind had been knocked out of him and the foot on his solar plexus wasn’t helping. “I didn’t take your stupid comb.”

“You challenged me to combat! Why would you challenge me to combat if you weren’t trying to get away with your crime?” The girl’s hands rested on her hips.

“You kept calling me a thief and screaming at me! I had to do something! I couldn’t just take being called that without defending my honor. And the honor of the Wudang.” The swordsman felt tears welling at the corners of his eyes. “I… I’m not a thief!”

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

“Then what were you doing by my window?” The foot pressed hard on Wanxi’s chest. He could feel the stones beneath digging into his back.

“You… I…” Wanxi grunted. He instinctively flexed his fingers, feeling some of the sensation returning to them. He brought his unaffected hand up and covered his eyes, still holding his scabbard. His voice was shaky and he attempted to remain composed.

“I was curious. About you. And I snuck into your room to… I don’t know.”

The pressure on his chest lifted. The boy’s eyes were closed. He was telling the truth. He didn’t really know what he was doing there when he visited the room of the new girl at the Black Heron sect. He had heard all sorts of rumors from the other students. That the girl was a foreign spy. That she practiced magic. That she was some kind of monster in human skin. That she couldn’t be trusted. But he found himself always sneaking glances when she was nearby and he couldn’t explain it. He didn’t even know her name. This was all so foolish.

“Well, now I know you’re probably not a thief.” There was a sigh and Wanxi felt his feet shoved aside to make room on the bench.

By this point he was using every ounce of self-control to prevent himself from bawling. It was so dumb. He made a dumb mistake and then tried to fix it with a dumb decision and now he was laying on his dumb back and everyone at the training hall would know he was dumb.

“Because a thief would actually give a good excuse. Still, if you’re not a thief, then you are a sneak. And that’s no good either. And if you didn’t take my comb then who did?”

Wanxi centered himself. He felt the air return to his lungs as he took fulfilling breaths. He focused on his inner core around his navel and visualized the circulation of energy throughout his body. He breathed in. The energy entered and cycled, like a fire being fed by a fan. He breathed out. The energy, now spent, exited back into the world. The repetition of the action steadied him. His questions were still unanswered, but he felt in control. He briefly wiped away at his eyes and pulled his legs back off the bench. The teen crossed his legs and sat upright in a single motion.

The girl had been looking at him this entire time with an amused expression. She was bent forward, with her chin propped up with her hands as she watched. The two sat in silence for a moment, before it was broken by Wanxi inhaling through his clogged nose, which made a loud whistle. The girl pulled back and started giggling.

“Hey! Come on. It wasn’t that funny.” Wanxi looked away. Perhaps today would just be a day of humiliation for him? Some days were like that.

“Haha, no, no, it was totally inappropriate of me, I’m sorry,” the girl reassured. She straightened herself. “Alright, proud warrior of the Wudang, if you’re not a thief, then at the very least you owe to me the duty of finding the true criminal. That should be enough to keep me from complaining to Master Bao about your intrusion.”

Wanxi thought for a moment. It would certainly reflect poorly on the Wudang clan if he was brought to the Master of the Black Heron sect and accused of any of this. And it would reflect even more poorly if it came to light that he challenged this girl and lost. Fighting for the sake of honor and face wasn’t discouraged among the sects of the wulin, the martial world. But the circumstances were not in the swordsman’s favor. Maybe if he helped to find this comb he could better understand what he was even searching for initially in the first place?

“I agree,” Wanxi declared as he stood. “I, Yu Wanxi, swordsman of the Wudang Clan will help you find your missing comb, er…. By the way, what was your name?”

“Sidaki Mitugwa,” the bedazzled girl, with her fine robes and flowered hair, rose to match him and stretched out her hand, “of the Ryukyu Kingdom.”

---

The journey back to the school was less awkward than the journey from the school. The grounds of the Black Heron sect sprawled outwards from the central school. The forested mountain provided plenty of private and secluded locations for training, studying, meditation, and relaxation. It also meant that much of the menial work done by the students involved the upkeep of buildings and paths that predated them by at least a hundred years. The path that Wanxi walked now had been cleared of debris and undergrowth by him and a crew of fellow students only a few weeks prior during the hottest part of summer.

This kind of secluded lifestyle was difficult to adjust to. Hermitage among the martial sects was common and preferred among those who wished to train and learn away from the distractions of the world. But Wanxi came from the Wudang clan, a sect that was known among all of the wulin. The entire martial community knew your pedigree when you announced affiliation with the Wudang. Groups like the Wudang and the Shaolin involved themselves with the affairs of the world. Their skills as fighters, detectives, negotiators, body guards, or even rulers meant that they could not be separated from the politics of life.

Growing up as a member of the Wudang clan meant being all of these things, constantly among peers and strangers, always learning of the world around him. And, of course, the affluence that came with such notoriety and influence made Wanxi accustomed to a certain standard of living.

The Black Heron sect, quietly existing in the mountains, knew nothing of the daily goings-on of the realm. The food was fine, meager, but fine. The views were stunning: picturesque mountain vistas enrobed by clouds, the river beneath carving a channel through solid rock. The air was thin. It was a good place for martial education, for sure, but so different from the comparatively urban upbringing that Wanxi had assumed was the norm for all people.

“So,” Mitugwa finally broke the silence, “you declared your clan several times before. You’re clearly proud of your lineage. Why are you here, then? What brings a proud fighter of the Wudang to a place like this?”

The walk was less awkward before that question.

“It’s tough to talk about.” Wanxi eyed the trees above him as they walked. The light filtered through the leaves, dappling the way with speckles of brightness. A breeze shook the trees just enough to send the motes of light dancing.

“I understand.” Mitugwa looked at Wanxi, then back to the brick path. “If it makes you feel any better, I feel out of place here myself. I think I might stick out.”

“What? I mean, sure, you’re dressed a little fancy…” Wanxi mused and then grinned, revealing one of his teeth as missing. “My father always told me that it was better to be over-dressed than under-dressed!”

“You think I’m over-dressed?” Mitugwa sounded genuinely shocked. She raised her arms and examined her delicately embroidered robes. Wanxi had seen her wearing nothing but similarly colorful clothes around the school, even when doing chores and exercises.

“You mean you weren’t doing it on purpose? I thought you were trying to make a statement!” Wanxi was positive that the girl that everyone had been gossiping over was intentionally trying to make some kind of stand and demonstrate superiority through fashion. The wulin was known for its colorful characters and heroic names like “Gentleman Killer” and “Truth-Seeking Noble” and “Passionate Lover Poet” were all too common. He had assumed this was part of the identity that she had crafted for herself.

“Oh… Oh no!” The Ryukyuan girl stopped and held her hands to her face, clearly flustered. “Mother told me that it was the kind of dress code that was expected of me here! I thought that since we all came from different sects that we were just wearing what represented our origins... Oh Goddess of Mercy, I must have been looking like a fool! These are all the kinds of clothes I had packed! I’ll have to ask Master Bao if I can borrow clothes now…”

“No, no, see,” the swordsman couldn’t help but smile, “I think it’s great! You’re making a statement about who you are! Everyone sees you wearing fine robes and associates you with it. It’s a hallmark! The whole jianghu will know you as ‘Dancing Noble’ or ‘Eminent Graceful Dancer’ or something like that!”

Mitugwa lifted her head out of her hands, still blushing, but at least returning the smile. “Really? You think that would work?”

“Absolutely! We all have to make names for ourselves! We’ll just have to try out some different titles.”

Wanxi thought for a moment and couldn’t decide on something better, so he tried to make it seem like he was considering some deep meaning. His thoughts wandered to how uncomfortable it must have been to run and jump in fine clothes. Or how soaked he ended up when scrubbing pots in the kitchen…

“I mean, that being said, maybe Master Bao would be able to get you a set of simple clothes,” he cautiously suggested.

This was met with a playful shove.

“I knew you were just humoring me, you thief!” Mitugwa chortled.

“We agreed I’m a sneak, not a thief!” Wanxi returned the shove, laughing himself.