The afternoon sunlight filtered through the tall windows, casting long stripes across the polished floor of the Kyoshi inner hall. Sheshy and I wandered through the quieter corridors, laughing softly at some joke, I was still embarrassed thinking about the promise she made to me, and despite the blindfold she understood it . Her blindfold swayed with each step, the motion somehow hypnotic, almost like the rhythm of a heartbeat I could sense more than see.
"You always run with your head in the clouds, Abel," she teased, flicking a slice of kiwi at me. I caught it, almost choking on laughter.
"And you're always full of mischief, Sheshy," I replied, smirking.
We turned a corner, expecting only the quiet hush of the inner chambers. Instead, a figure stood there, perfectly still, as if the light itself had paused around her.
Nala Kyoshi.
She was taller than I remembered, elegant in every measured step. Her black hair was swept neatly into a knot at the nape of her neck, every strand in place, framing a face that could have been carved from jade. The kimono she wore was violet, patterned with delicate white flowers, and a golden fan rested lightly in her hand, held not as a weapon, but as a statement: precision, poise, authority.
Her gaze fell on me. Slow, deliberate, unyielding. I felt it as a physical weight pressing into my chest. The air seemed colder where she stood.
"You," she said finally, her voice cutting through the hall like a whip, calm but merciless, "are nothing but a shadow. A pale imitation of the son who should be here—trained, perfect, born to command and uphold the Kyoshi name."
I froze, stomach tightening.
Sheshy's hand brushed against my arm. I could feel her tense beside me, unsure how to intervene. Nala didn't shout, didn't make a scene. She didn't need to. Every word, every measured step radiated contempt, sharper than any blade I had ever faced.
"You lack strength. Discipline. Energy. You stumble where even the weakest of warriors at your age would stride. You are clumsy, unworthy, and entirely misplaced. Every breath you take here is a mockery of the legacy you cannot hope to claim."
My chest burned, tears threatening to betray me. Her voice had no mercy, and it cut deeper than a thousand strikes of a tanto.
"You are a failure," she continued, her tone a cold, final verdict. "A weakling living in a world that does not bend for the trash like you. You are not a Kyoshi. You are a mistake… and one day, everyone here will remember that. The true blood of this clan flows elsewhere, and you… you will always be a hybrid. Nothing more."
The words struck me like a hailstorm of daggers. I wanted to speak, to fight back, to explain that I had tried, that I had endured, that I was here because I had survived—but no sound came. My throat felt parched, my limbs frozen, my heart a leaden weight in my chest.
Nala's gaze flicked once toward Sheshy, then returned to me, and without another word, she turned. The golden fan swept elegantly in her hand, the kimono's trailing hem brushing the floor as she left, the maid who was her companion, Nevenka Tanso, made an apologetic gesture with her hand and then followed her, leaving silence in her wake.
I slumped against the wall, knees shaking, hollow and shattered. Sheshy shuffled beside me, awkward and hesitant.
"Uh… hey… it's… um… not like that. You're… you're still Abel. And you… you're stronger than she think…"
I shook my head, unable to speak. Words felt useless, clumsy. My vision blurred, my chest tight with despair.
"You heard her," Sheshy said softly, fumbling for encouragement. "But… we're here, right? I mean… we're still together."
I nodded slowly, letting her presence ground me, letting the warmth of her hand on my arm anchor me in a world that suddenly felt colder, harsher, and far more impossible than ever.
Nala's shadow had left its mark, her words still echoing like iron chains around my ribs. And in the corner of my mind, I clung to the fragments of laughter, the faint scent of kiwi, the reminder that even in the face of crushing judgment, I wasn't entirely alone.
Sheshy lingered for a moment, hesitating as if unsure how far to push comfort. Eventually, she sighed and gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze before leaving me alone in the quiet hall.
I remained slumped against the wall long after the echoes of her footsteps faded. My chest heaved, heart pounding in a rhythm that seemed both defiant and broken. I closed my eyes, trying to breathe, trying to make sense of the storm that Nala had left behind.
Her words dug into me deeper than any sword or training scar ever could. "A mistake… a weakling… not a Kyoshi…" I repeated them in my mind, over and over, like a mantra I couldn't escape. Each syllable wrapped around my bones, a reminder that no matter how much I tried, no matter how much I fought, there was a truth about myself I couldn't ignore.
My blood.
I had always known it was different. The way the energy slipped through my fingers, refused to take shape no matter how hard I tried. The way Stipo's eyes darkened with concern whenever I failed. But Nala's judgment made it sharper, more tangible: this wasn't just a flaw in skill—it was a flaw in me, in the very essence of what I was.
A hybrid. Neither fully cursed nor fully blessed. Neither fully human nor fully beast. My veins carried the balance of a lineage that should have made me exceptional, yet left me incapable. The energy that surged through every Kyoshi around me, flowing like rivers of fire, recoiled from me like water from stone.
I banged my fist against the wall, the sound echoing hollow and weak, a feeble release for the rage and helplessness coiling inside.
"Why the fuck am I like this?" I whispered, voice rough, cracking. "Why can't I… why can't I just use it?"
Silence answered me. No words, no guidance, only the fading light through the windows, the still air heavy with the scent of polished wood and distant flowers.
I realized, bitterly, that I was trapped in a body and bloodline that refused to cooperate with the world I wanted to conquer. Every ounce of effort felt like dragging chains through mud. Every step forward felt like sinking deeper into the weight of my own failures.
And yet… even in that hollow despair, a small spark remained. Not hope, not faith, but defiance. The same stubborn defiance that had carried me through Stipo's merciless training, that had kept me standing when she passed me by as if I were a pig to be butchered.
I clenched my fists, letting the ache in my muscles and the fury in my chest solidify into resolve. One day, somehow, I would understand my blood. I would master the energy that now mocked me. I would be more than Nala's son shadow, more than a mistake, more than a half-breed stumbling through a world that despised him.
And when that day came… the Kyoshi would see that even a hybrid, cursed and blessed, could carve his own path in the blood and steel of their legacy.
I stayed there, alone, staring at the floor as the sun dipped lower, letting the weight of my failures and the fire of my defiance merge into a single, unbreakable resolve.
To be continued…