The morning sun filtered softly through the translucent jade blinds of Jigen's bedroom, casting golden shapes across the floor like fallen starlight. He blinked awake not from an alarm, but from instinct—the kind that came from living with perfect internal balance. He sat up, checked the time: 6:59 AM.
Right on time.
Jigen's mornings followed a quiet rhythm: rise, wash, dress, eat, leave. He kept his footsteps soft to avoid waking any of the estate's servants unnecessarily, though he knew they were probably already prepared. The house was far too disciplined to be anything but awake before their young master.
Downstairs, his mother Xian Ni greeted him at the long marble dining table. Her long black hair was tied in an elegant knot, and her eyes—so kind yet sharp—landed gently on her son.
"Morning, sweetheart. Your uniform's pressed. I had them add another layer of warming spell to your coat. The temperature dropped last night."
"Thanks, Mom."
She tilted her head, watching him as he sat down and took a sip of warm milk tea. "You're getting comfortable at school?"
"I suppose."
"That girl still hanging around?"
Jigen paused. "…Akai."
Xian Ni smiled knowingly. "Yes, that one. I like her energy. Very bold."
"She's… persistent."
"That's what I said when I met your father."
Jigen almost choked on his tea.
Before he could reply, his father's voice echoed from the hallway. "He's not ready for those kinds of stories yet, Ni."
Jiang Su entered, dressed in a modest but refined robe, his presence calm as ever. He nodded to Jigen. "You're leaving soon?"
Jigen stood and gathered his things. "Yeah. I like getting there before the gates get too crowded."
Jiang Su gave a slow nod. "Keep observing. Blend in. The time will come when they look to you, even if they don't know why."
Jigen offered a faint smile. "Until then, I'm just the weird quiet kid with no spirit energy."
"Exactly," his father replied.
**
The morning rush at Celestial Root High was a collision of status, spirit, and gossip.
Cultivator students in bright robes boasted about their breakthroughs. Spirit beasts perched on shoulders or circled above their heads. Some kids had already awakened minor artifacts and flaunted them like badges.
Jigen passed through the crowd unnoticed, dressed in his plain black uniform. No glowing aura. No flashy accessories.
Just him.
The boy with nothing special.
That's how they saw him.
Exactly as planned.
As he made his way to the classroom, a familiar voice called out from behind.
"Wait up!"
Jigen turned and saw her.
Akai.
White hair like starlight, tied in a loose ponytail. She wore the standard uniform, but hers had personal touches—sleeves rolled up, a silver ring dangling from her left ear, and a crimson string braided through the collar.
She jogged to catch up, then walked beside him, slightly breathless.
"You always walk ahead," she said. "Like you're trying to escape."
"I am."
She grinned. "Too bad. I have long legs."
"I've noticed."
He turned into their class, pulled out his chair, and sat. She followed and took the seat next to him—her usual spot.
"Today's gonna be boring," she sighed, stretching. "Qi flow analysis. And then another lecture on historical sect formations. Can we skip and pretend we went?"
Jigen opened his notebook. "That's how you fail tests."
"Tests are a scam. Life is the real exam."
"And you're already failing it."
Akai stuck her tongue out at him, then reached into her bag and pulled out a long roll of preserved peach slices. She plucked one off and offered it toward him.
He stared at it. "I don't eat snacks from strangers."
"I'm not a stranger anymore."
"…I still don't eat snacks from you."
She held the peach slice closer. "Then take it and throw it away later. It'll make me feel better."
He sighed, took the slice, and ate it slowly.
Akai leaned back in her chair, satisfied. "See? Baby steps."
He didn't reply.
But she didn't expect him to.
That was their rhythm now.
She'd talk. He'd resist. She'd push harder. He'd pretend not to care. But somewhere in that endless cycle, a space was forming.
A space where he didn't mind her being near.
**
That afternoon, the class was dismissed early due to an unexpected disturbance near the eastern courtyard. A wild spirit beast—one of the academy's training creatures—had escaped its barrier and was flying above the campus rooftops, trailing golden mist and panic.
The more advanced students ran off excitedly, eager to help capture it.
Jigen remained behind, as usual, gathering his books.
Akai stayed too.
"You're not even curious?" she asked.
"About a floating, oversized squirrel with wings?"
"It's a Flame-Wisp Fox," she corrected. "Very rare. Probably got loose from the spiritual lab."
"I've seen bigger."
Akai blinked. "You have?"
He paused. "I mean, I've seen images. Online."
She narrowed her eyes. "You say weird things sometimes."
"I'm weird."
"Yeah," she agreed. "But in a strangely comforting way."
They exited the classroom together, heading down a side path away from the chaos. The noise of students shouting and beast cries echoed distantly behind them.
As they walked through the quiet corridor lined with blooming spirit orchids, Akai broke the silence.
"You ever feel like you're pretending?"
Jigen looked at her. "Pretending?"
"Like… you're playing a role. Like everyone expects you to be someone—powerful, talented, amazing—and you're just… not that."
Jigen slowed his pace.
"I don't have that problem."
"Of course not," she laughed. "You're too busy being a brick wall."
He didn't laugh.
She glanced sideways. "Jigen?"
He finally answered. "Maybe I'm not pretending to be more. Maybe I'm pretending to be less."
Akai stopped walking.
She studied his expression.
Calm. Still. But behind his eyes—there was something.
A pressure.
Like a volcano sealed under a bed of snow.
She exhaled softly. "That's a dangerous kind of pretending."
He nodded. "I know."
She didn't press further.
Didn't ask what he meant.
She just kept walking, hands in her coat pockets, white hair catching the sunlight like silk.
**
That evening, as the stars lit up above Shanghai, Jigen stood on the roof of his house, gazing out over the city.
The skyline pulsed with life. Hover-crafts glided like silver whales, and cultivator beacons blinked on top of tall towers. The spiritual energy here was so dense that even the air shimmered slightly.
He closed his eyes.
Felt everything.
Every heartbeat in a hundred-mile radius. Every ripple of qi through every stone. Every breath of the wind.
He could've stopped the city's time with a thought.
He could've snapped his fingers and erased the clouds.
But he did none of that.
Instead, he whispered, "Just one more day of being ordinary."
Behind him, his mother stepped onto the roof.
"Talking to yourself?"
"I do that now."
Xian Ni stood beside him, wrapping her shawl tighter.
"You like this girl?"
Jigen hesitated. "I don't know."
"You let her in more than anyone else."
"She's persistent."
"That's not a reason."
"It's all I have."
Xian Ni smiled. "Well, if she's someone who'll still smile when she learns the truth… maybe she's worth keeping close."
"…Maybe."
His mother turned to leave.
"Sleep soon. You're still mortal, for now."
Jigen watched her go.
Then looked back at the stars.
And thought of Akai.
Not as a threat.
Not as a distraction.
But as someone real.
Someone who reminded him what it felt like… to be human.
The next day began like any other.
Jigen rose at seven. He dressed, ate, packed his bag. His morning tea was warm but not too hot—just as he preferred it. His mother handed him a packed lunch, and his father gave him a silent nod of approval, the kind that meant more than words.
The city outside shimmered with life, but Jigen's mind was elsewhere. He found himself thinking about the way Akai had looked at him the day before—curious, thoughtful, unafraid.
It was strange.
And it lingered.
At Celestial Root High, the front gate buzzed with activity. Drones hovered to scan student IDs, and rows of spirit beasts stood in holding zones, waiting for their bonded owners. There were announcements playing on floating crystal screens:
> Reminder: Spirit Beast Control classes have been rescheduled due to yesterday's incident.
Next week's Qi Compression Contest sign-ups close this Friday!
New cultivator ranking lists have been posted—see where you stand!
Jigen ignored all of it. He preferred his name nowhere on any list.
As he entered the school grounds, a familiar voice called out.
"You didn't eat my second peach slice."
He turned.
Akai stood there, arms folded, looking smug.
"You carried that thing all day?" he asked.
"No. I saw you toss it after we walked out of class."
"…You stalk me now?"
"I observe. For science."
Jigen sighed and kept walking. Akai walked beside him, like she always did.
"Why don't you ever check your rankings?" she asked.
"I already know where I stand."
"Which is?"
"Not even on the board."
"That's the most Jigen answer ever."
He glanced at her. "What's yours?"
"Rank 87 out of 2000. I could be higher, but I get bored during evaluations. Sometimes I purposely misalign my spiritual channels just to mess with the scanners."
"You sabotage yourself on purpose?"
"Yup."
"…Why?"
She shrugged. "Because it's fun. And because the system's dumb."
Jigen didn't say anything, but he didn't disagree either.
They reached their classroom just as the first bell rang. The room filled quickly with students, most still chatting about the Flame-Wisp Fox incident. Some claimed they had seen it up close. Others boasted about nearly catching it. None of them noticed Jigen's arrival.
Except Akai.
She noticed everything.
**
Today's lesson was theoretical.
Madam Lin, their instructor, stood at the front, her robes a cascade of glowing emerald silk. Her eyes scanned the class, and she cleared her throat to begin.
"Today we'll discuss the principle of Spiritual Resonance Alignment. This theory explains why some cultivators advance faster than others despite similar talent levels. Who can define resonance in this context?"
A dozen hands shot up.
Jigen looked out the window.
Akai raised her hand lazily, and Madam Lin called on her with a half-smile.
"Akai."
"It's the harmonious vibration of a person's internal qi with the natural energy around them. The more aligned they are, the more fluid their cultivation becomes."
"Correct. And what is the most important factor in achieving alignment?"
"Emotion," Akai replied, twirling her pen. "Or more specifically, intention behind emotion. The clarity of one's will."
"Excellent," Madam Lin said. "It's often overlooked, but resonance isn't just about power—it's about purpose."
The lesson continued, but Jigen found his thoughts drifting.
Emotion.
Purpose.
He had neither, technically. He had something beyond both—knowledge. Too much of it. He knew things before they happened. He could see into the hearts of people and still feel nothing. But when Akai spoke about alignment, something in him shifted.
Was she resonating?
And if she was, with what?
**
Lunch was quiet.
Jigen sat under a tall jade-leaf tree in the courtyard. The shade was perfect. The breeze soft. His lunch—rice, fish, and sautéed greens—was neatly packed by his mother.
He ate slowly, eyes half-closed.
Akai found him after ten minutes.
"Wow. You picked the best lunch spot."
"I was here first."
"Then you have good taste."
She sat beside him, opening her own lunch box. Fried dumplings, sticky rice balls, and a jar of mango juice.
They ate in silence for a while. Students passed by in the distance, chattering and laughing.
"I have a theory," Akai said suddenly.
Jigen didn't look up. "About what?"
"You."
"Sounds exhausting."
"Everything about you is a mystery. You don't use qi. You don't react to spiritual pulses. You're not even interested in fighting. But you're always calm. Like… scarily calm."
"I'm just boring."
"No," she said, pointing a chopstick at him. "You're pretending to be boring."
Jigen arched an eyebrow.
She continued. "You know more than you say. I've seen how you observe people—like you're cataloguing their souls. You never slip up, never react. Like you've seen it all already."
He took another bite of rice.
"…And your theory?" he asked.
"You were trained by some ancient master who told you to live low-key until the world needed you."
Jigen blinked. Then snorted softly.
"That's a bad novel plot."
"Exactly! Which makes it perfect."
He chuckled under his breath. The first real laugh she'd ever heard from him.
Akai smiled.
"Got you," she said.
**
That afternoon, a sparring session was held in the north wing's practice grounds. Though Jigen had no spirit energy on record, all students were required to observe.
The area was shaped like a coliseum, with tiered stone seating and a central arena covered in reinforced qi-absorbent sand. Hover-scribes floated above to record matches.
Today's spar was between a top-tier third-year named Lu Han and a rising first-year prodigy, Yu Nari.
The crowd buzzed with anticipation.
Akai leaned over the railing, eyes wide. "This is gonna be good."
Jigen watched from his seat, unmoved.
The match began.
Flashes of light. Sonic bursts. Fire trails danced through the air as Yu Nari summoned twin flame whips. Lu Han countered with a water-based qi shield and a spectral blade.
The battle was dazzling, full of spectacle.
Jigen studied every move. Every angle.
"They're both wasting energy," he muttered.
Akai leaned closer. "What?"
He shook his head. "Nothing."
"You were saying something about wasted energy?"
"…Their techniques look impressive, but they're inefficient. Too much flourish. Not enough focus."
Akai blinked. "You could tell that just from watching?"
"I watch carefully."
She narrowed her eyes. "You really have seen all this before, haven't you?"
"No," he said.
Then after a pause, "But I've imagined it. A lot."
Her stare lingered.
She didn't believe him.
Not entirely.
But she didn't push further either.
**
After school, rain began to fall.
Light at first, then heavier—thick, warm drops that soaked the city in a matter of minutes. Students rushed for cover, holding bags over their heads or dashing to the nearest hover-station.
Jigen walked calmly under the rain, letting it hit him.
He didn't mind it.
Akai appeared at his side, holding a red umbrella.
"You'll catch a cold."
"I don't."
"Still. Here."
She held the umbrella over him.
They walked together like that for three blocks.
Half-covered. Half-wet. Entirely silent.
The silence was comfortable.
Then she asked, softly, "Do you want to know my real name?"
He turned to her. "That's not your real name?"
"Akai is just a nickname. It means 'red.' People used to call me that because of my temper."
"Doesn't suit you."
"Oh?" she smirked. "Then what name would suit me?"
"…White," he said after a beat. "Because of your hair."
She looked surprised.
Then quietly pleased.
"My real name is Yue."
"Moonlight."
"You speak Old Mandarin?"
"I read a lot."
Yue—Akai—smiled.
"Thanks for calling me white," she said. "That sounds weird, but it made me feel seen."
They walked a little farther.
Jigen didn't reply.
But for once, he didn't mind being seen.
**
That night, as he returned home, Jigen stood again on the rooftop.
His parents were downstairs, pretending not to worry.
He looked at the stars again.
Not because he was searching for something…
But because for the first time in a long while, he didn't feel alone in this world.
He remembered Akai's—Yue's—smile under the umbrella.
And he whispered, almost to himself:
"Maybe this isn't just a disguise."