It had only been a day in the grand experiment of Rasia’s teaching academy. Thus far, Rasia had performed every kata she knew, rummaged through all the kull supplies, sharpened her weapons, collected ingredients for a soup, and even took a bath in the cave springs. She was trying to give Kai space to learn things on his own, but she was extremely bored.
Teaching is so hard.
It was about time to check on his progress.
Rasia hopped over and observed Kai struggling to shove the windship back into place. It took him three times as long to get the windship back to the starting position than it took him to prepare it for sail. She climbed on board the ship as Kai prepared to make another attempt. Step by step, he followed all the actions Rasia had taken the day before, even completing knots stroke for stroke that she’d only shown him how to do once.
When he went to adjust the sail, Rasia tested, shouting at him, “Wrong!”
Kai jumped and stared at Rasia, wide-eyed. He turned back to the sail, reassessed, and readjusted in the wrong direction. Rasia made snide comments over every little action. Her presence threw him off so much so that when Kai reached for the steer, Rasia gripped her hand around the railing to brace for the inevitable disaster.
The windship remained still. Kai narrowed his eyes at her accusingly, having tested her in an evaluation meant for him. He had figured out she was fucking with him. Kai stomped over and fixed the prior things he had done wrong and rechecked all the things he had done right. Rasia was sort of impressed.
By the time Kai returned to the steer, he had the windship prepared in the exact way Rasia had shown him yesterday, down to every last detail.
Kai unanchored the ship and sailed past the first rock fine, but the second rock came so quickly that the steer did not have enough thrust alone to turn the ship in time. Normally, one would use the outrigger, but in this scenario, it was located on the impact side of the ship. When Rasia had made the pass yesterday, she had used one of the oars to push the ship out of the way of the rock.
Kai ran with the oars. Predictably, he failed to run down-length before the outrigger scraped against the second rock. The windship came to a slow stop, and Kai slid to his knees in frustration.
Rasia walked over and kicked up the oar with her foot, catching it in her hand. “You know you’re not fast enough. There’s no one right way to do a thing. Nor are you going to succeed always doing everything ‘Rasia’s way.’ You’ve got to figure out the right way for you.”
Sometimes it was the hardest thing for people to do—to step outside the rules and find yourself in the loopholes. Rasia observed the furrow in Kai’s brow as he thoughtfully took in different parts of the ship. She smiled when he began experimenting and testing different configurations with the ropes and the oars.
To get out of the gorge, you had to raise the ship’s speed high enough to move along the hard dirt but slow enough to maneuver around the rocks. Going fast and going slow were easy, but maintaining speed in the middle was hard. Kai understood that problem after his first attempt.
That understanding persisted in the way he looped ropes about the mast and climbed to the scout’s nest to create a makeshift swing. It fascinated Rasia to watch him discover and innovate and learn.
He was far more observant and intelligent than the Grankull gave him credit for.
Kai moved to the steer and glanced at Rasia. She smirked and raised her hands, not bothering this time to grab the railing. Rasia wobbled with the ship as it moved forward. She watched him go through the same motions as before, but this time, when the second rock loomed, Kai swung from a rope, scooped up the oar, and used it to push the ship safely past the second rock.
So shocked by his own success, Kai didn’t move quickly enough to prevent the ship from crashing into the third. Rasia laughed at his dumbstruck expression as the windship went down.
Rasia might have misjudged her timetable. She’d figured it would take Kai a while to get out of the gorge, enough time for her to heal and gather the supplies they would need to take on the dragon. But Kai was already at the third rock within the span of two days. She admitted she might have underestimated him and that, most of all, excited her.
She liked to collect secrets. She enjoyed finding landmarks that didn’t exist on maps. She enjoyed pushing at the horizon and hunting things no one else dared. She enjoyed discovering something new. The more time Rasia spent with Kai, the more he shined and sparkled.
Rasia thought back to the words Neema accused her of, how Rasia was better equipped than other people because of her tahs. Watching Kai drove home how much of a foundation her parents had given her. Kai was pathetic not because of his physical shortcomings, but because no one had been willing to give him the time of day.
Rasia helped Kai wheel the windship back to the starting line. Before he could start again, Rasia punched his shoulder. “Come on, it’s high noon. Break time.”
“But I can keep going.”
Rasia raised a brow, and Kai relented with a grumble.
They returned to the cave and found Rasia’s soup bubbling over. She rushed to save it. It wasn’t that bad. Rasia poured Kai a sizable portion of the soup.
“It’s burnt,” Kai complained.
“If you don’t like it, eat around it.” Warmth grew in her face, embarrassed. She had forgotten to take the soup off the fire before checking on Kai.
“And here I thought you were good at everything.”
“Har. Har,” Rasia said, kicking at his foot teasingly. Kai ladled the soup and ate one of the scorpion chunks whole, burnt parts and all. He took considerable breaks between each bite to gather his energy for the next.
“Did you practice your letters?” Kai asked.
“What?” Rasia glanced at the scrolls of parchment Kai had written for her to study. Rasia might have been bored, but she hadn’t been that bored.
“How do you know how to read anyway? I don’t remember you at school,” Rasia said, mischievously changing the subject. Rasia might have agreed to learn how to read, but they never put a deadline on it.
“I went to school for fourteen days,” Kai replied defensively, “which is better than your record.”
Rasia cracked a grin. “Well pointed.”
“Tajih taught me to read,” Kai explained. “Ava-ta figured if by some miracle I passed the Forging, I could be a scribe.”
“Is that what you want to do, though?” Rasia asked. “Why would you want to write down someone else’s legend when you could make your own?”
“I don’t have many options available to me. And being a scribe isn’t that bad. They turn words into an art form. They shape history into poetry. Isn’t the windeka the scribe of a kull?”
“Yeah, but they just write day-to-day reports for the real scribes to sort out later.”
“It’s a shame it has to be that way. I’ve learned more from you than any legend I’ve read in the library. I think the Grankull could benefit from the way you see the world. When you read about kull hunts, it’s about how you kill the target, not how they dance. There’s a lack of . . . intimacy. The scribes could learn from you. We need those stories.”
Rasia couldn’t help but smile at his apparent awe of her. It was nice to speak to someone who valued every word she had to say, appreciated her skills, and recognized her as the awesome-sauce person she knew she was. Her conversations with Kai were a breath of fresh air compared to the doubting naysayers back home.
“You can write my legend if you really want to be a scribe, but I think you’d make a better windeka instead.”
Kai scoffed. “I’ve hardly passed the second rock.”
“And many would not have passed the first. You give yourself too little credit. Most people can’t get a windship to move in the first day. I should know. Sometimes I watch the classes when they first start practicing on actual windships. It’s hilarious. You know Nico somehow managed to crash into the Lakejaw?”
“Her nerves got the best of her.”
“Sure. If that’s what you want to call it. You’re not the worst, Kai.”
Kai quieted, thoughtful. He took another large bite, as if testing if bigger bites made the process go quicker. “Have you figured out what you want to do? The other day you said you didn’t want to be Han of a hunting kull anymore.”
“I don’t know. Honestly, I don’t know how I thought I could deal with five people when I can barely deal with one. I don’t . . . I just . . . but what else is out there?”
“You could be a scribe.”
“Shut up,” Rasia said with little bite. She smacked her lips after downing the rest of her soup. “I can’t be a scribe. I can’t even write my name.”
“But you have to sign your name for the Naming Ceremony. How are you going to accomplish that?”
“I plan to bribe Ysai-ji to write my name on my palm beforehand and close my fist until it’s time.”
“Isn’t that against the rules?”
“What idiot follows rules? Oh wait, probably your jih.”
Kai burst into sudden laughter, getting most of his soup all over his face and some up his nose. Rasia tossed him her gourd, and he rinsed out the burn from his nostrils. After he cleaned himself up, he looked at her with wide eyes, blushing. “That’s never happened before.”
“That tends to happen when you’re talking and eating with someone at the same time. I forgot to warn you how dangerous it could be.”
“You shut up,” Kai said, throwing the gourd back at her. She ducked under it with a laugh. “I am eating and holding up my end of the bargain, unlike some people. Instead of bribing your way through the Naming Ceremony, you could learn how to read.”
“I tried,” Rasia complained, bemoaning the memory as she dramatically collapsed to the ground. “I tried going back to school once. Figured I’d give it another shot. But I had no idea what the fuck they were talking about and it made me feel . . . stupid. I know more than any of those fucking assholes.”
“So, the ‘never give up’ speech only applies to me?”
“Don’t give up on the things that matter, unless it’s stupid. Then by all means don’t waste your time.”
School had been torturous, and boring. None of the lectures or word drills ever stuck in Rasia’s head, and she had better things to do than sit in some classroom.
Kai sat up with a sudden thought. “I’ve got an idea on how to help you read.”
“But you haven’t eaten your soup yet,” Rasia pointed out, blinking innocently.
Kai rolled his eyes, braced himself, then drank down the remaining contents all in one go. He moved to his feet and motioned her to follow him outside. Rasia grumbled, but she was too curious not to follow. He led her outside of the canyon to where Kai practiced his running. His endurance hadn’t improved much over the past two days, but at least now he looked like he was running instead of flailing pitifully about.
Kai dragged his feet through the sand to make several large circles. He continued like this, sometimes skipping a foot over to seemingly start again.
“. . . Are you dancing?” Rasia asked, confused. “Because no offense, you suck.”
When he finished, Kai declared proudly, “It’s a ka-kata.”
Rasia tilted her head at the symbols he’d carved into the sand. If she squinted, they sort of looked like the same ones he wrote on the parchment earlier that morning.
“Try to follow them,” Kai suggested.
Skeptical, Rasia stepped to the center of the first symbol. With her feet, she tried tracing the lines Kai made, but she was unsure where on the curve to start. Kai moved forward, reaching out to correct her and aborting his movement. “Think about it like a kata. The movement order and the strokes matter. Do it with intent.”
“But I don’t remember the order. You went too fast.”
Kai reached out and once again faltered before touching her. He backed up. “I’ll do it over here, and you can follow my movements.”
“The fuck, Kai. I can’t see all the way over there. Get your ass over here and touch me.”
“Oh—o-okay,” Kai said as he awkwardly came behind her.
Rasia would bet anything that Kai had never initiated contact with anyone but his siblings. Technically, one could argue that Rasia hadn’t either. The Grankull forbade casual touch among the underage with the exception of supervised sparring. Rasia had sparring partners aplenty. She had shoved at bullies and had punched Nico in the face. She didn’t consider herself some fresh-faced butterfly. Unconsciously at times though, Rasia found herself treating Kai like her jih. She couldn’t stop nudging or shoving at him with a tease. He reacted awkward and stunned by her touch every time. It was hilarious, and Rasia couldn’t pass up this ripe opportunity for a little bit of fun.
Rasia grabbed his hovering hand and placed it on her hip, then pressed her back against his chest. He wore her worn linen shirt, and through it she could easily feel the suggestion of his sternum. Kai immediately stiffened, his chest no longer moving.
“Like this?” Rasia asked, faux-innocent. She didn’t bother tracing any of the lines as she circled her hips into his.
Kai jerked away so fast you’d think she was on fire. Rasia spewed with laughter when he spun away, back to her, but not before she saw the tent that had formed in his pants. He crumbled into a crouch, where his shoulders hunched, and his ears burned red.
She sniggered. “Stop being so dramatic. It’s a boner. It happens.”
Kai glared at her over his shoulder. “You did this on purpose. You’re not taking this seriously at all.”
“I am! It’s not my fault you’re so sensitive. I barely touched you, and you’re practically at full mast.”
Kai tucked his face into his knees. While he was busy drowning in his misfortune, Rasia dropped down and crawled up behind him. Then she popped up at his shoulder to whisper a suggestion in his ear, “Think of Nico’s lone strand of boob hair.”
Kai released a strangled, prolonged whine from the cover of his knees. It sent Rasia rolling with laughter. By the time she came back up for air, she found Kai pouting and glaring at her.
Rasia asked cheekily, “It worked, didn’t it?”
“You’re a menace.”
“I am the best thing to ever happen to you.” She slapped at his leg and rolled to her feet. “Come on, let’s do this thing. I’ll be on my best behavior this time. I promise.”
He glared daggers at her.
“Promise.”
Kai adjusted his pants as he stood. Rasia couldn’t help but to slide her gaze to the previously provoked area. Considering how tiny the rest of him was, that tent was bigger than she’d figured it would be. Just sayin’.
Then, Kai touched her.
Kai had never initiated contact with her before, and it threw her for a loop when he knocked atop her forehead as if she were a misbehaving bud. Despite the brief tap, touching someone’s face in any manner was understandably intimate. It seized Rasia’s attention.
“One useless thing for another, that is what you agreed to. I’ve done my part. It is time for you to do yours. You’re afraid to try because you’ve failed before, and you’re afraid to fail again. But you aren’t stupid, Rasia. Perhaps you learn better the same way you teach: not by rote memorization or tedious lectures . . . but by doing. Either you really try, or you let this be the one thing that defeats you.”
Rasia’s brows rose to her hairline because that was a challenge he had just thrown at her feet, and it wasn’t in her bones to let it go unanswered. Who knew Kai had that in him? She shook out her limbs as if preparing for a fight.
“You’re on.”
Rasia charged back toward the first symbol.
Kai returned a determined, clammy hand to her hip but kept the rest of himself at a distance. He pulled her along the lines curved in the sand. At first, it felt like some nonsensical dance without pattern or reason—motions for the sake of movement. But as they hopped from one symbol to the next, she found herself anticipating the next step with increasing ease.
It did feel like some strange kata. Katas, at their core, were about repetition and patterns. She’d mastered so many over the years that her body understood the pattern first before it all coalesced into one brilliant epiphany. The downward stroke came first. The curved flourish came last. Every symbol was a deviation from the one that came before, like katas in a series.
Rasia moved with more confidence, accelerating with every motion she anticipated correctly, and began adding twists of her own.
“Rasia, you’re going too fast.” Rasia tripped over Kai’s ankle, and they tumbled to the ground.
Rasia angled to avoid falling on her right side. Kai apparently had the same concern, as he braced an arm around her waist and put himself between her ribs and the ground.
Rasia thought it ridiculous. She could defeat a gonda single-handedly while Kai could barely face a grubworm. She knew how to fall. What did she need him throwing himself on the ground for?
“You alright?” Kai asked, loosening his grip and running his eyes over her with concern.
Rasia scoffed. “I don’t break easy.”
“Your ribs don’t know that.”
“Hey,” Rasia said, shoving playfully at Kai’s chest. Rasia had meant to push him away, but her hand sort of flopped against the line of his pecs, which she could feel through the linen. If she moved her pinky finger over just a little, she’d brush a nipple. She never understood the point of them for males . . . decoration, maybe. Like pretty baubles on a sword hilt.
She snapped her hand away from his chest before it refused to unstick. To distract both him and herself from the slip, she said quickly, “You’re right. I was getting it at the end. It’s the first time any of this made sense.” She slowed, sincere. “Thank you, for throwing my words back at me. I’ll never give up again.”
People had tried to teach her to read for years and failed. Her teachers berated her. Kiba-ta had lost her patience. Even Ysai had gotten frustrated. Rasia had refused to care anymore. But Kai had helped her make sense of it all in the span of nothing but a drum. Rasia could never fully convey how much this meant to her.
Kai absentmindedly scratched at his chest where Rasia’s hand had been moments before as he mused over the symbols they’d carved through the sand. “I was thinking of punctuating the completion of each symbol with its sound.”
“Oh, that’s brilliant. Then I can tell everyone you taught me a super-secret fighting style and see how long it takes for people to realize it’s the kah. I cannot wait to show Ysai-ji. It’s going to be hilarious.”
The corner of his lips tilted into a half smirk-smile. “Exactly what I was thinking.”
Rasia’s stomach swooped. She smiled, bashful and unable to pinpoint the last time that had happened to her. It didn’t help that his gaze melted hot, and she swore with the sun shining to their left, his eyes began to glow. Both his irises and pupils were normally gold, but they’ve never outright glowed before, producing their own light. They reminded her of elderfire at high noon, irises harsh and bright and so dense with heat she could barely breathe.
She lifted her face toward his.
Kai flinched as if she had thrown a punch at him instead. He stared, frozen, before his face reddened for the second time that day.
He bolted downhill. With pretty good form too.
Rasia shook her head and collapsed to the sand, both disappointed and mildly amused. She hadn’t felt this way for someone in a while. Immediately, she began to consider angles of attack. He was physically attracted to her, that much was apparent, but Kai was more akin to a wild, skittish animal than anything else. She risked scaring him off. She didn’t have patience for much, but she’d learned patience for the hunt. She had to lay her bait and wait for him to come to her.
This was a hunt that could very well take forever.
Good thing Rasia never gave up.
Not anymore.