Yipachai inhaled deeply, savoring the scent of his secluded little clearing—fresh and clean, now that the rain had stopped. The remnants of the afternoon’s shower still pattered down through the broad leaves, while little pods of rain mhonglun floated about sleepily, as if they’d just gorged themselves on some kind of holiday feast.

  Pingou was there, snapping up worms that had fled from their flooded holes, his mind a comforting presence in Yipachai’s own. Each successful stab of that pointed, golden beak sent a flash of primal joy through the Lan Kuanghi bond Yipachai had maintained since dueling practice that afternoon.

  Yipachai rolled his shoulders and began his routine, feeling more energized than he did most other evenings when he came to practice by himself.

  It had been a good day of training. Yipachai had gone a few more rounds during their team dueling session—sometimes on a team with that girl, Naoko, and other times opposing her. He’d done his best to keep his distance from her freakish strength when he and his teammates had faced off against her.

  Whatever it was that she’d done to gain such power, she’d kept it to herself. It clearly was a product of either Lan Kuanghi or Lan Mhong, but Yipachai hadn’t been able to determine which. It was somewhat odd for a Banqilun to practice either of the two arts. Most of them, he’d been told, followed their natural inclinations toward Lan Banti.

  He summoned his wings and took off, picking up as much speed as he could before entering a shallow dive. As he neared the ground, he whipped his practice sword at an imaginary opponent, twisting his torso and tucking his wings back while he struck, then immediately snapping them open again to soar up and away.

  It was a simple maneuver, but he’d found it was the best way to generate power from the air. Heron’s wings didn’t lend themselves as much to soaring strikes, but that hadn’t stopped Yipachai from utilizing some of the techniques of other birds of prey. Because that was what he needed to be when he fought—a hawk hunting mice.

  Yipachai repeated the motion several more times—dive, slash, soar away—until a thin sheen of sweat coated his brow, his neck. His body had adjusted to the workload of the School of the West Wind now, so even after a grueling day of training, he found that this extra practice wasn’t too taxing.

  Danger approaches. Pingou’s voice cut through Yipachai’s mind. The bond felt taut between them—alert.

  Yipachai landed quietly and scanned the surrounding forest. What is it?

  A predator. Large. Pingou lifted himself into the air and alighted on a branch well above the ground. He cocked his head and stared off to the southwest. That way.

  Yipachai strained to see, to hear anything, but there was nothing. Just the soft song of the mhonglun and the pattering of spent raindrops.

  He flapped his wings, intending to try and find a large enough limb to support himself the way Pingou had when he stopped short.

  There, in the direction Pingou had indicated, came the sound of heavy footsteps shuffling through the leaf litter. In fact…were there two sets of feet heading for their clearing? Three?

  Yipachai held himself stock still and reached out with his mind. It was difficult, since he already held a bond with Pingou, but he could manage it at a short distance. At the very least, he should be able to ascertain what kind of beasts were stalking toward them.

  But there was nothing. Only a few birds and tree rats sheltering from the rain in their nests. Which meant that those could only be the footsteps of other Sentients.

  Yipachai’s heart leaped in his chest. Were they bandits? There was no reason for others to be out there—the clearing was a decent walk from both the West Wind grounds and the city gate.

  He cursed himself inwardly, wishing he’d brought along his real sword. Or at least the fudeshi Harato had made for him.

  If it is dangerous, Pingou said, we should fly away.

  Yipachai sent an affirmation through the bond, but stayed rooted where he was. Perhaps those others would simply pass them by—they had no reason to come to the clearing. There was no need to draw attention to himself by moving.

  The footsteps quieted for a moment, then one set continued on, clearly lighter than the others. A scout?

  Yipachai tried to quiet his breathing. There was no need to panic, he told himself. There was no reason anyone would be looking for him out here, and no reason they should present a danger to him if they did stumble upon his clearing. Still, his jaw ached, nearly trembling from being clenched too tightly.

  Be careful, Pingou said.

  “Hetanzou?” a girl’s voice sounded through the trees. “You there?”

  It was Naoko.

  Yipachai released his breath in a long sigh. Then, realizing he still hadn’t answered Naoko, he cleared his throat and tried to work some moisture back into his mouth. “Over here,” he called.

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  Plants rustled and Naoko cursed until she finally emerged into Yipachai’s clearing. She still wore her training clothes and had her practice sword tucked into her belt. Her face had a glint of mischief on it, her cheeks somewhat flushed from the hike.

  “Do you always come out this far?” she asked. As if it were merely a chance encounter.

  “Erm, yes,” Yipachai said, still confused.

  There is still a predator nearby, Pingou said. The tension in the bond still pulled at the edges of Yipachai’s consciousness. I can sense it.

  “Mind if I join you for a spell?” Naoko asked innocently, seemingly unaware of any danger lurking in the shadows.

  Yipachai shook his head, completely rattled by the contrast between Naoko’s attitude and Pingou’s warnings. “Wh-who all did you come with? Pingou says there’s danger nearby.”

  Naoko cocked her head, her bun tipping to one side. “Oh, that’d probably be Suiwei. Who’s Pingou?”

  Yipachai narrowed his eyes. He didn’t know any other novice or initiate by the name of Suiwei. It didn’t even sound Banqilun. “He’s my…friend. A heron. And who’s Suiwei?”

  The girl nodded, then turned and pointed with her chin back in the direction she’d come. Heavy footfalls started for them again, and Yipachai tensed.

  It approaches! Pingou said, and Yipachai could feel the bird readying himself for flight.

  A series of low grunts sounded from outside the clearing, then a massive black figure lumbered into sight, leaving undergrowth and saplings bent out of shape in the wake of its passing.

  Yipachai had never seen a bear before, but recognized it from paintings he’d seen. Covered in short black fur with a white patch on its chest, it was far, far larger than he’d imagined, with a blocky head and powerful legs. Claws the length of Yipachai’s fingers jutted out from paws that were nearly the size of his head.

  The bear—Suiwei—walked straight up to Naoko and sat back on its haunches, its dark eyes—nearly too small for such an enormous beast—flitting between Naoko and Yipachai.

  “There’s a good girl,” Naoko said, approaching and giving Suiwei a scratch underneath her chin.

  Yipachai gaped at the two of them. So many of his questions had just been answered in one moment. Naoko practiced Lan Kuanghi, and had bonded with Suiwei during their fight. The bear’s strength had to have been immense, and so Naoko had used it to power her strikes.

  That explained why Yipachai and the others hadn’t been able to see or sense anything when Naoko was bonded. If she only pulled directly on Suiwei’s strength, there was no physical manifestation of the bond.

  It also explained why Yipachai hadn’t been able to sense Suiwei when she had approached. If she’d already bonded with Naoko, her mind wouldn’t have been available to Yipachai.

  “I found her when she was just a cub outside my family’s staff farm,” Naoko said, reading the new questions that had popped up in Yipachai’s eyes. “Back then, it was difficult for me to bond with her, but I couldn’t stand the thought of her being alone. Lucong is big, and can be less than friendly to the small and the weak.”

  Yipachai shook his head, still trying to take it all in. “Why are you here?”

  Naoko shrugged. “Suiwei told me she’d been catching the scent of an odd-smelling Sentient wandering alone into the forest every night for weeks now. I figured there was only one non-Banqilun around here, and since you’re the only other Lan Kuanghi practitioner, I thought it might be nice to finally tell someone about Suiwei here.”

  Yipachai opened his mouth, but Naoko continued on.

  “And after how well everything worked out today—after how well we did together, I thought maybe we could work together to make sure we both make the dueling team. You know?”

  Yipachai held up his hand in an attempt to hold back the flow of words. “You followed me all the way out here because you want to practice together?”

  “That’s what I just said.”

  “With me?”

  Naoko heaved a sigh. “Were you listening at all?”

  Despite himself, Yipachai found himself laughing. “Yes, I heard you. I just find it hard to believe.”

  “And why is that?” Naoko asked, straightening and crossing her arms. She was shorter than the male novices, but it still felt like she towered over him.

  “Most people here do their best to stay away from me. It’s gotten better since we started the team duels, but still—” Yipachai gestured to the empty clearing around them. “You don’t see any of my roommates out here, do you?”

  “So? They don’t want to be on the dueling team as badly as we do.” Naoko held his gaze. “Look, I know the other boys don’t see much in you. They look at me the same way. But I’ve seen how much you’ve improved—at the morning runs, and in lessons with instructor Shuji. I knew you were practicing outside of our scheduled training, which means you have ambition. And I do, too.”

  “Then why don’t you do more training of your own as well? I’m sure you don’t need my help.”

  “Because my roommates and I have figured something out in our team duels that all you boys still don’t seem to understand: when you’re fighting a team duel, you have to work as a team. Not just a bunch of individual duelists trying to show off how tough they are. That’s how idiots like Mikio end up with broken ribs.”

  Silence take him, it made sense. All of it. The other boys had treated Naoko much the same as they’d treated Yipachai. And up until today, when he’d fought with Naoko and Atsushi, the team duels had felt like a mad rush to land hits on the opposing team. Today, though, Yipachai had felt something. Something like what Naoko had said. Like they’d worked as a cohesive unit.

  Naoko snapped her fingers in front of his face. “Hello? Are you still with me?”

  Yipachai swatted her hand away, then nodded. “Give me a moment, I was just thinking.”

  “And?”

  If it helped his chances of making the dueling team and winning that prize money, Yipachai would have said yes to a practice spar with Suiwei herself.

  “I’m in,” he said.

  Naoko grinned and gave him a playful punch on the arm. “That’s what I hoped you’d say. So where do we start, teammate?”

  Yipachai rubbed his arm. Banqilun were stronger than they realized, and their fingers were so bony. “We’ll need a list of tactics we want to practice—preferably maneuvers specific to our beasts’ abilities, so we can be thinking of those over the next few days. But first, if it’s like you said and we need to work together as a team, don’t you think we should get to know one another first? We’ve never even spoken before today.”

  Naoko shrugged and sat down, leaning back against Suiwei, who promptly plopped over to lay on one side. “Fine by me. You go first.”

  Yipachai remained standing. It took him a moment to find the words. He had no idea what all he should say. Or what all he should keep to himself. But he’d felt like he needed to understand Naoko more before they began, as if that might help him understand the way she thought and the way she fought. Somehow.

  “Alright,” he began with a sigh. “My name is Yipachai, by the way, and I grew up at a monastery in the Hongshu forest outside of Hanaburi.”