Unintended Cultivator

Liu Ai was ecstatic when she saw Sen in the morning, jumping up into the chair to hug him as hard as her little arms would let her. That held up for about five minutes. Then, she remembered she was angry with him.

“You weren’t here!” she accused, her eyes huge and brimming with unshed tears.

Sen did his best to keep a straight face. It wasn’t funny, exactly, but her unhappiness was so unfiltered and turned up so high that it almost became a parody of itself. The vague humor of the moment was neatly offset by Sen’s stab of guilt. He nodded.

“I know. I should have come back sooner than I did. That was wrong of me, and I am sorry about that. I’ll do my best to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

Sen knew for a fact that he couldn’t promise it would never happen again. A cultivator’s life was too unpredictable for those kinds of vows, so he didn’t make that mistake. The girl’s face scrunched up a little in suspicion, as though she wasn’t really convinced he meant it. She reluctantly nodded.

“Okay,” she said.

Figuring that was as close to forgiveness as he was going to get, Sen set about making breakfast. Liu Ai followed him around and kept up a stream-of-consciousness commentary about what he was doing that was interspersed with stories about what she had done the day before. He nodded along and made an encouraging noise or exclamation of shock and wonder from time to time to let her know he was listening. He was genuinely startled the first time she said something about someone called Auntie Ru. The hand he was using to stir the rice porridge stopped moving for a second when he realized that she was talking about Fu Ruolan. Auntie Ru? He wondered if Ai simply couldn’t say Ruolan or if the diminutive was what the nascent soul cultivator had told the girl to call her.

Sen briefly considered using the name himself the next time he saw her. He imagined the stunned look on her face and smiled. A brief mental flash of the imperious version of the woman who had met him in the forest killed that idea in a hurry, though. The adorable little girl might get to call Fu Ruolan that, but Sen didn’t think that the woman would find it nearly as charming if he did it. Not that she’d necessarily do anything overt to him for it, but he expected she’d find some more subtle way to punish him for overstepping those social bounds. No, he decided, better to not intentionally aggravate the teacher I’m stuck with for years. Putting his attention back on Ai, he watched in fond amusement as she pretended a slice of orange was a bird that flew into her mouth.

The rest of the morning passed in a strange state of distraction for Sen, which wasn’t to say that it was entirely useless. His thoughts kept drifting back to where Falling Leaf might be and trying to figure out some explanation for Laughing River’s behavior. He didn’t get anywhere with those thoughts, but keeping Liu Ai entertained soaked up a lot of the mental energy he’d normally use for brooding. They went for a walk, and Sen used the opportunity to make things out of shadows for her chase after. They didn’t look like anything real. Instead, they were just vaguely animal-shaped blobs of darkness. But she seemed delighted by them. Laughing and running after them until she “caught” and popped them like soap bubbles, which brought on more gales of laughter.

When she seemed like she was getting tired, Sen decided she needed something more tangible to play with. It took a while to work it out, but Sen already knew he could fuse shadow with other things. He eventually managed to fuse shadow and air to make a ball that Ai could carry around, throw, or kick. It also had the added bonus that she couldn’t lose it. Even if it fell into a stream and got carried away, which it did several times, or got kicked out into the forest beyond where Sen told her not to go, he could just call it back to them or make a new one. Sen wasn’t sure if that was exactly what Fu Ruolan meant by playing around with shadow or not, but he thought it probably qualified as practice.

They came across Glimmer of Night at one point. He was standing on a rock out in the middle of one of the wider streams, almost wide enough to qualify as a river. There was a web made of gossamer thin strands of qi floating around him. Sen couldn’t quite figure out what the spider was up to other than some kind of practice. It certainly took a deft hand to keep something that complex under control. Without any kind of warning, part of the web plunged down into the water. It resurfaced a moment later. Sen’s eyes bulged at the preposterously large fish that was caught in the web, its great body thrashing and heaving. Glimmer of Night looked at the fish for a moment before dissolving the web. The fish dropped back into the water with a splash. Little Ai squealed in glee.

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“Do it again!”

The spider looked over at the little girl who was still clutching the shadow ball that Sen had made for her. Glimmer of Night hadn’t given any sign that he was shocked to see them there and had presumably noticed them in his spiritual sense. He shrugged, and the web reformed around him with startling speed. Less than a minute later, another absurdly large fish was pulled from the water. Sen gave the stream a dubious look. Some fish were carnivorous. Fish as big as the ones the spider was catching could pose a danger to Ai. He’d have to make sure she didn’t wander too close to the water when she was alone. The appearance of the second fish brought on just as much joy as the first.

“Again! Again!” shouted Ai, jumping up and down in excitement.

Glimmer of Night repeated the trick several more times before Sen finally put a stop to it.

“That’s probably enough, Ai,” said Sen.

She gave him a pouty look, then remembered she still had the shadow ball.

“Catch, Glimmerite!” she exclaimed and threw the ball with all her strength.

It flew a mighty three or four feet before it started plunging toward the water, far short of the spider’s position. A miniature version of the web burst into existence and captured the ball. The web snapped back to Glimmer of Night, who took hold of the ball and examined it curiously. He looked over at Sen.

“You made this?”

“It was easy enough once I figured out how to do it,” said Sen.

Glimmer of Night held the ball up close to his face so he could get a better look at it. He nodded in seeming satisfaction at something he saw in the ball before he casually lobbed it back to Ai.

“Catch,” called the spider.

The spider had good aim because Ai didn’t really need to catch the ball. It practically dropped into her waiting, outstretched arms. She hugged the ball to her chest with a big smile on her face. Sen stopped her before she could try to engage the spider in an ongoing game. It was close to midday, after all.

“Let’s leave Glimmer of Night alone,” he said gently. “It’s time for lunch.”

It took a little cajoling to convince her that lunch was better than more games, but hunger won out in the end. The morning’s activities and the food seemed to overwhelm the girl’s youthful vigor because she almost fell asleep while she was eating. Sen carried her limp, yawning form to her bed. She was asleep before he even left the room. He stepped outside and took a deep breath. Keeping up with Ai wasn’t physically demanding, but it did require a lot more mental engagement than Sen had expected. He’d need to figure out things that she could do that would keep her mind engaged for a while. Sen left the door to the galehouse open so that he’d hear it when Ai got up from her nap and decided to take advantage of the brief lull in his day. Drawing his jian, Sen worked his sword forms. He felt Glimmer of Night approach but didn’t let it immediately interrupt his work. When he finished the form he was working through, he stopped and looked over at the spider.

“Is this what you mean to teach me?” asked the spider.

“Among other things,” said Sen. “The basics, at least. I can teach you some spear basics as well. We’ll cover some of both, and you can decide if you like one of them better.”

“Why would I need this?” asked the spider.

“Most cultivators use a weapon of some kind. It’s not impossible to fight them without a weapon of your own, but it’s much harder.”

“And how long did it take you to learn it?”

“Years,” said Sen. “But it sounds like you’ll be around for years. Might as well take advantage of that.”

Glimmer of Night nodded in agreement. “Will you teach the child these things?”

Part of Sen rebelled at the idea of teaching Liu Ai how to fight. I’ll fight anything that threatens her, thought Sen. She doesn’t need to know how to do this. He let himself indulge in that blatant falsehood for a few seconds. Falling Leaf had been right, though. Even if Ai might never be a cultivator, she would have to live in the world, and Sen knew what kind of world it was. It didn’t matter how much Sen loathed the very thought of Liu Ai ever needing to shed blood. She did need to know how to fight, at least against other mortals.

“I expect I will,” conceded Sen. “Although, I’m not expecting a lot of violence to find us here. Who would dare? I think teaching you both to read is probably more useful for the immediate future.”

“When will you begin this teaching?”

“Soon,” said Sen. “I want to give Liu Ai a little while to feel a bit more secure here before I start putting demands on her. I remember how unsettled I felt when my master took me away from my home. I was a lot older than her when it happened. I understood what was being asked of me, and it was still overwhelming. Speaking of which, how are you finding it here?”

“I do not mind this place. I have a nest. There is plenty to eat in the forest. What more could I need?”

“I suppose that’s true. Well, if you do need anything—”

Sen’s words evaporated as his spiritual sense detected a familiar presence at the very outer limits of his range. Everything in him demanded that he leave immediately and race toward Falling Leaf. He resisted insistent demand by looking at the galehouse and reminding himself that Ai could wake up at any time. He’d said he wouldn’t just vanish again. It hadn’t been an absolute commitment, but leaving now wasn’t a necessary act. It was just what he wanted to do. She’ll be here soon enough, he told himself. I can get answers then. He made himself focus on what he’d been doing.

“Sorry,” said Sen. “Like I was saying, if you do need anything let me know.”

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