MIKO

Of blood magic, much has been written but much more is to be written still.

You, who have opened this book for the first time, remember the fundamentals.

Five paths emerge like rivers from a single source:

Forging, which turns blood into weapons,

Shifting, which changes blood into elements,

Enhancing, which improves one’s blood flow,

Imprinting, which enchants objects with one’s blood,

Binding, which lets one move and manipulate blood.

To know one’s path is to sow the seeds, but to master it is to reap sweet fruits.

– Scrolls of the Eastern Flame (original lost; parts are collected in the Infinite Compendium)

Lord Takami was surrounded by enemies, one sword against a dozen. They slowly approached him, blades pointing at his heart.

“Mimi, is father going to survive?” Sai asked, tugging Miko at her sleeve. He said it with such wide-eyed innocence that Miko couldn’t help but laugh.

“Wait and see for yourself.”

She had seen this performance at least ten times in her not-so-long life. In all honesty, she should have been bored to tears. But there was something about this play that spoke directly to her.

And the reactions of her half-brother Sai only added to the entertainment.

On the stage, the puppet portraying Lord Takami stood tall in his bamboo armor. The painted expression on his face hasn’t changed throughout the entire act—not that it was prone to change in real life—and was fierce with determination.

The allies around him have been falling one by one: Inji the Darkblade, the Twin Wolves Oro and Moro, the jolly drunkard Kondo.

It was considered a mark of a true warrior to improvise a short poem right before you die, so a good portion of the play was filled with solemn recitals. Some puppets were singing about their family, some about duty and honor, some made vows to avenge their defeat in the next life.

When Miko tried to imagine her last moments, she didn’t know what her poem would be about, but she never doubted it would be something beautiful.

So long as it’s not Old Mother who is singing it, I should be fine.

At last, the action continued. It was the same tale told over and over—how her father had led the charge in a campaign for the King Emperor, and how, at the cost of his leg, he had saved the Emperor’s life.

“Look, look! They’re going to kill him!” Sai yelled.

“S-sit down, S-Sai,” Teru whispered. He caught a few annoyed glances from the audience around them.

Normally Teru was as talkative as Sai, despite his stuttering, but being an older brother granted him the wisdom of recognizing at least some boundaries.

On stage, Takami’s puppet was being overtaken. The audience gasped, but then Lord Takami rallied with all his might and fought them off, swinging his wooden sword in wide arcs.

One of his legs was wounded beyond repair, but he put down his sword in satisfaction. Behind him, another puppet appeared. It was clad all in yellow, with a tall hat and strings of beads around his neck.

The King Emperor.

"My loyal friend!” The King Emperor puppet sang, its tiny head bowed low. “Your love for me only brought you pain!"

A single droplet of water, perfectly timed, slid down the puppet's polished cheek. The puppet gently brushed it away, a movement so delicate it almost felt human.

"A small price to pay for the life of my liege," the puppet of Lord Takami sang in response. "A life without honor is like the sky without the sun."

The crowd erupted in cheers. Sai hooted and stomped his feet. No doubt father would’ve stopped him from causing a ruckus, but Lord Takami wasn’t here.

He misliked puppet theaters, just like he misliked most other things in this world.

“I can’t believe our father was the King Emperor’s friend!” Sai kept dancing around Miko and Teru after the show was over.

He was holding a yellow-and-green paper fan, and Miko couldn’t tell which rotated faster—the fan or her half-brother.

“D-don’t believe everything you hear,” said Teru. Of late, he started wearing his hair in a topknot, either consciously or subconsciously imitating their lord father.

At least his personality was far removed from Lord Takami. Teru was pliable, playful and loyal. If he had any disagreements with Miko, they were born out of the typical brother-and-sister competitiveness and not malice.

Like Miko, Teru was old enough to have his own beast. Unlike Miko, Teru had one.

It was a young banewolf—naturally—and it has been following them everywhere ever since Teru’s initiation a few moons ago. Poor thing had to suffer through hours of puppet performance and was now looking rather miserable.

“I take it, you liked the show?” Miko asked. She was fond of the story, unlikely as she was to admit it.

“I liked all the sword fights!” Sai said and made a few swipes with his paper fan. “Are they really showing it every year?”

“Yes. At every Sun and Moon f-festival,” Teru said.

“Then… we can see it together next year too,” Sai said. There was a subtle, almost imperceptible emphasis on next year. He danced around the subject of Miko’s failed escape almost as swiftly as he was dancing around them now.

The quiet stretched between them.

Next year.

Next year, Teru would probably be away to take the soultamer exam. And Sai, like as not, would follow him in a few short years.

But Miko? Miko would still be here.

“I’m g-glad you’re not g-g-gone,” Teru finally broke the silence. Miko looked at him. It was so unlike Teru to be this sincere.

But as always, he tried to turn everything into a joke. “Who else would d-do my homework? I’m sure the t-teachers would start getting very suspicious when I’m suddenly unable to c-calculate the area of a triangle.”

He laughed but even while he was wearing a wide grin, the smile never touched his eyes.

"It’s not exactly like I had the say in the matter," Miko replied. She hated how bitter she sounded.

She didn’t want to talk about it any longer and, thankfully, they didn’t.

----------------------------------------

“I’ll train twice as hard”. That had been Miko’s motto for as long as she remembered how to read.

When Teru and Sai learned how to do cartwheels and walk on hands, Miko realized that her sense of balance and coordination wasn’t on par with her half-brothers.

She lacked the talent and the physicality, but you could always make up for it with sheer determination. At least, that’s what Miko believed.

It took her several weeks but ultimately she did learn how to walk on hands. By then, both Teru and Sai grew bored of annoying Lord Takami with their circus performance, but Miko was beyond ecstatic.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

She had managed to do it!

This is no different, Miko thought. I’ll train twice as hard, that’s it.

She was standing in a remote corner of the village, hidden from inquiring glances. So long as she was quiet, she wouldn’t be disturbed.

Miko didn’t dare to enter the forest, at least for the time being. Lord Takami’s ire was in endless supply, and another act of disobedience would be most unwise.

She closed her eyes, letting herself fall into a calm she’d learned to summon even on the hardest days. Today would be one of those. It had to be.

Without a beast bonded to her, any manipulation of the elements was almost impossible. “A fool’s errand”, was how her lord father put it.

Maybe I am a fool.

A spark of hope remained that if she could master just a fragment of what true soultamers could do, her father would see her in a different light.

It was a stupidly optimistic thought, but that’s all she had to cling to.

I’ll start with something easy.

She shifted into a stance meant to summon water. She cupped her hands in front of her, trying to imagine the weight and coolness of water pooling in her palms.

She thought of the river that flowed near the village, the quiet strength of it, the way it could carry logs downstream as if they were nothing.

She tried to summon that image, to bring that feeling into her hands. She tried to believe, even while a nagging part deep inside her mind didn’t.

For a moment, Miko felt the faintest dampness against her skin. She opened her eyes, only to see a few beads of moisture on her palms—not even enough to call it a trickle.

Maybe in a few months of training, there will be enough water to wash my hands before supper.

Miko took a deep breath, feeling the sharp, restless pulse in her veins. She curled her fingers, focusing on the energy within.

Something different, then.

Blood forging was not the easiest of the magic types. But all the heroes she’d read about were proficient with it.

They could summon crimson swords, maces, clubs, even whips. The only thing they were bound with was their imagination.

And Miko had plenty of imagination.

She tried to summon the exact shape of the blade in her mind: the sharp, precise edge glinting in the light, the hilt shaped to fit seamlessly into her grip. Every detail needed to be right.

An iron blade. It was the easiest to turn blood into iron.

I can do this, she thought, believing and not believing at the same time. She had failed last time, and a dozen times before that, but maybe…

Miko’s fingers twitched, the blood slowly pooling under her skin. The pulse in her temples matched the rapid beat of her heart as the blood began to coalesce.

“Come on,” Miko whispered aloud.

She imagined how it would feel, the weight of the blade as it took shape in her hand, warm and pulsating with energy. She felt her pulse in her fingertips, the shape of the weapon beginning to solidify.

And then, the pressure surged with a terrifying sound:

SHTREEEECK!

There was a blinding flash, and someone screamed.

It wasn’t until the light in her eyes receded that Miko realized she was the one screaming.

The pain, it was unbearable. The half-formed blade detonated in her hand, sending a shockwave of pain up her arm. Jagged crimson shards were embedded in her skin.

Miko fell to one knee, clutching at the wound that now trickled a dark, sluggish stream down her forearm. Each shard throbbed in time with her own racing heartbeat.

A fresh wave of pain made her gasp, and black spots crept at the edge of her vision.

Great, just great, she thought, biting down on another scream.

It took her a great deal of effort to stop panicking and then turn the shards back into liquid. The bleeding slowed, the wound began to close, but at a steep price. Her limbs grew heavy.

A bleeder’s disease left Miko anemic each time she tried to practice her magic.

Every moment Miko sustained the effort was like holding her breath underwater.

When she tasted something salty on her lips, she feared she was crying again. But it was beads of sweat.

“Pathetic. This is pathetic,” she muttered under her breath.

I am pathetic.

Without a beast, her control of the magic was fragile at best. But how would she ever earn one without proving her worth first?

Teru had one. That stupid Genki had one. Gods, even Old Mother had one!

Resentful thoughts galloped through her mind. Miko tried not to think, but it was hard not to. Thinking and reading were the only true talents she had.

I’ll rest a bit and start again.

“I’ll train twice as hard” was a good-sounding motto, but so far it had brought her nothing but pain.

Miko was about to rise when she heard a devastatingly familiar sound.

Laughter.

It was low and mocking. She had developed a good ear for it, and recognized the notes of mockery.

It’s him. Again.

Genki was the first to appear, his thin arms crossed and a smug grin plastered across his face. Of late, he was often wearing a slanted smile as though he knew some secret joke only he could understand.

Behind him, two other boys followed, Renko and Gomah, both looking just as eager to cause trouble.

Miko felt her stomach twist.

Instinctively, she jumped to her feet to confront the boys. They must have found the sight funny.

Miko was already the shortest among all of the youth her age, but Genki was the tallest of the bunch. He had gone through an impressive growth spurt last year, one that his body had trouble keeping up with, so he was also gaunt as a skeleton.

To complete the ghastly picture, his cheeks were hollow and his eyes seated deep, like two dark gems in a skull idol.

He was proudly showing his family crest: rows of half-circles. Snake scales.

Worst yet, he was already wearing a green sash. He was one rank above most other kids, who wore yellow ones, and two whole ranks above Miko.

She was wearing white, in stark contrast to her father’s black. An uninitiated. An eternal novice.

She tried to tell her it meant nothing. Genki was a son of a soultaming teacher, wasn’t he? This green sash of his was a sign of privilege, not mastery.

But she knew that was only her jealousy speaking.

“Ran out of first-years to bully?” Miko said dryly. Her throat was raw from her exercise.

Genki ignored her comment.

“Reading does you no good, Lady Miko. You look like a spotted bear with those bags under your eyes.” Genki laughed, and all the boys followed his cue. “What were you doing here? This is our place.”

“It’s not your place. I’m training here.” Why did she even need to explain herself to him?

He looked at her bloodied hand and she immediately hid it in her robe, embarrassed. “Ha! I’d say you should start training with a broom, but maybe that’s too dangerous for you, too.”

“Shut up,” Miko said through her teeth. It was supposed to sound threatening, but another gale of laughter was all she got in return.

“Or what?”

Miko walked up to Genki. Thin and tall, he looked like a snake that learned to stand upright.

No, not a snake. A worm.

“Uh-oh, boys, I think I’m in deep trouble now,” Genki winked at his friends. He put his hands behind his back, inviting Miko to try and slap him.

She did.

Her hand was a moment away from slapping that ridiculous grin off of Genki’s equally ridiculous face when something stopped her. It felt like her arm was bound in chains.

When she looked, she saw a grass viper coiled around her arm.

It must’ve snuck behind me.

“Ha! Come on, hit me,” Genki dared with a smile. “I’m right here.”

Miko clenched her teeth, trying to wrench her arm free, but the grass viper coiled tighter, its cool scales digging into her skin. Genki’s grin only widened as he watched her struggle.

“Don’t worry, Lady Miko. This is for your own good,” his voice was dripping with mockery. “I wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself trying to hit me.” He gave her a little bow, hands still behind his back.

Miko’s face flushed with anger. She tried to yank her arm back, twisting her body, but the snake was impossibly strong.

“Oh, where are my manners? That’s no way to treat a little girl.” With a small flick of his hand, Genki commanded the viper to release her. Miko stumbled back, regaining her balance just as her arm fell free. She looked up, meeting his eyes with a fierce glare.

The rage boiled over.

She lunged forward, her fist aimed squarely at that smug face of his. She could feel the weight of her strike, could almost hear the impact as it traveled from her shoulder to her knuckles—but then Genki shifted, deftly dodging her blow.

His viper darted around her again, looping around her leg and throwing her off-balance. She stumbled, barely catching herself before falling.

But Miko wasn’t done.

With one free leg, she swept a kick at his legs, with all of her force behind it. Her heel connected solidly, and for one glorious moment, she watched as Genki’s composure broke, his leg buckling, sending him to his knee.

Her satisfaction was short-lived.

In a flash, Genki stood and retaliated, shoving her backward with enough force to knock her to the ground. She landed hard, the impact jarring her bones, and she could taste the blood in her mouth. She rolled over from pain.

Genki crouched over Miko, his face close to hers, then put his hand on the back of her neck and pressed.

“You’ll have to do better than that,” he said plainly, his voice devoid of its usual humor.

She spat her blood at Genki but he easily dodged it. With one final, dismissive look, he stepped back and walked away.

“My sisters pack a harder punch,” he said to the crowd of boys.

The rest of the gang turned to look at her before leaving. She expected to see laughter, or anger, or dismissal. She would have even settled for disgust.

Instead, she saw pity in their eyes.

Damn it all!

Miko lay there, with a roaring pulse in her ears. The boys looked at her with pity. And why not? She was a pitiful little thing.

Miko punched the ground.

Damn Genki!

She punched again. There was a wet red mark she laid her fist.

Damn father! Damn this village!

She kept punching until her knuckles were raw. And even then, she kept going.

I will never be humiliated again!

I won’t allow it!

But she knew she would.

She always allowed it. Every time.