{One year later Age 6}
The sun crept through my window earlier than usual, dragging me from dreams filled with spinning stars. I rubbed my eyes, yawning as I padded barefoot through our treehouse home. The floorboards hummed with unusual activity—clattering dishes, hurried footsteps, and voices that carried more urgency than our typical mornings.
I found Ayame in the kitchen, her blue hands moving with practiced precision as she wrapped rice balls in large leaves. Her white hair was pulled back tighter than usual, and her tattoos pulsed with focused energy.
"Morning, Mother," I mumbled, still half-asleep.
She turned, her violet eyes softening. "Good morning, little one. Did you sleep well?"
Before I could answer, a crash from the main room pulled my attention. I wandered toward the noise to find Kaoru helping Rika stuff clothes into a large pack. Maps and scrolls littered the floor, and a polished set of armor—bone plates lacquered red and black—stood propped against the wall.
"Too much, too much!" Kaoru scolded, pulling items back out of the overstuffed bag. "You can't take the entire house with you."
"What's happening?" I asked, my brain finally catching up to the scene before me.
They both turned, and something in their expressions made my stomach twist. Kaoru set down the pack and approached me, kneeling to my level.
"Today's the day, tiny ember," she said, her voice gentler than usual. "Rika leaves for the Adventuring School."
The words hit me like a splash of cold water. I knew this day was coming—they'd mentioned it for months—but somehow I'd convinced myself it wasn't real. Rika was now eighteen and her system awakened and she always wanted thought to go to adventuring school I was that Rika would always be here, teasing me, training me, braiding my hair when she thought no one was looking.
"She's leaving... for good?" My voice came out smaller than I intended.
Rika dropped the shirt she was folding and crossed the room in three long strides. She knelt before me, her fiery eyes meeting mine as she ruffled my hair.
"Not for good, squirt. Just for now." Her confident smile didn't quite reach her eyes. "I'll visit when I can. And I'll write—promise."
"But who's gonna teach me to fight?" I protested, hating how childish I sounded.
Rika laughed. "Mom will. And when I come back, I'll show you all the new moves I've learned."
Hours later, the entire village gathered at the docks. Colorful banners fluttered in the breeze as boats bobbed in the clear water. Rika stood tall in her armor, the morning sun catching the polished bone plates. Her sword—a gift from Kaoru—hung at her side, and her wild ponytail whipped in the wind.
Villagers approached one by one, offering small tokens: a woven bracelet for protection, a vial of healing herbs, a carved wooden charm for luck. Each gift came with proud words and well-wishes. Rika was the first from our village to attend the prestigious school in years.
I clutched my own gift—a stone pendant I'd spent weeks carving with Renji's help. It was rough-edged and imperfect, but I'd managed to etch our family symbol into it.
As the crowd cheered and called out farewells, I forced my face into what I hoped was a brave smile. But my eyes burned, and my chest felt tight. I didn't want her to see me cry—Rika always said crying was for babies, even though I'd caught her doing it plenty of times.
I slipped behind Kaoru's leg, pressing my face against the fabric of her pants. Her warm hand found the top of my head, gently stroking my hair as we watched the boat preparations begin.
The crowd parted as Rika approached our family for final goodbyes. She hugged Renji first, who awkwardly patted her back before slipping a scroll into her pack—probably some complex protection spell he'd been working on for weeks. Ayame embraced her next, whispering something that made Rika stand straighter. When Kaoru's turn came, she crushed Rika in a bear hug that lifted her off the ground, both of them laughing through tears.
Then Rika turned to me.
"Come here, squirt." She knelt and opened her arms.
I hesitated only a moment before launching myself at her. Her armor pressed cold against my cheek, but her arms were warm and strong around me. She smelled like metal polish and the spicy oil she used in her hair—scents I suddenly realized I'd miss desperately.
"I made you something," I mumbled, pulling back just enough to press the pendant into her palm.
Rika examined it, running her thumb over the rough edges of our family crest. For a terrible moment, I thought she might laugh at my clumsy craftsmanship. Instead, her eyes glistened as she immediately slipped it over her head.
"Perfect," she said, tucking it beneath her armor. "Now I'll always have you with me."
She lifted me up in one smooth motion, squeezing me tight against her chest. Her mouth was close to my ear when she whispered, "You're gonna be even cooler than me one day. So train hard, alright?"
I nodded fiercely, my throat too tight for words. She set me down with a final ruffle of my hair, then turned toward the waiting boat.
The sun sank toward the horizon as the boat pulled away from the dock, painting the sky in shades of violet and gold.
I stood between my parents, Kaoru's warm hand on my shoulder, Ayame's cool fingers intertwined with mine. The villagers waved colorful banners and shouted good wishes as the boat caught the wind.
I waved until my arm ached, until the boat was just a speck on the water, until I couldn't tell if that red blur on the deck was Rika or just a trick of the fading light. Even after the village slowly dispersed, I remained rooted to the spot, staring at the empty horizon.
That night, I couldn't sleep. Our room felt too quiet without Rika's snoring. I climbed out of my bed and stood beside her empty hammock, running my fingers over the woven ropes. The pendant I'd made her had a twin—a matching stone I'd carved for myself but hadn't finished.
I clutched it to my chest, remembering how the sun had gleamed off her armor, how confident her smile had looked even as her eyes betrayed her nervousness.
"I want to be strong like her," I whispered to the empty hammock.
The thought crystalized into something solid and real inside me. I turned and raced through the house, following the warm glow of firelight to where my parents sat by the central pit. They looked up in surprise as I skidded to a stop before them.
"Mama, Mom!" I blurted, my heart pounding with sudden certainty. "I want to go to the Adventuring School too! One day!"
Ayame's eyebrows rose, her tattoos pulsing with surprise. She exchanged a glance with Kaoru, who set down her carving knife and leaned forward.
"That's a big dream, tiny ember," Kaoru said, but her lips curved into a proud smile that made my chest swell. "You'll need to work harder than you've ever worked."
"I will," I promised, clenching my fists. "I'll be the strongest ever. Even stronger than Rika."
Kaoru's laughter boomed through the room, warm and proud. She swept me up into her arms, spinning me around until my head swam with dizziness and giggles.
"That's my girl!" She set me down and knelt to my level, her red eyes blazing with excitement. "We'll start tomorrow. I'll teach you to run like the wind, climb like a monkey, and hit harder than anyone expects from someone your size."
Ayame stepped forward, placing her cool blue hand on my shoulder. "And I will teach you to observe, to think before you act. The strongest warriors know when to strike and when to wait." Her violet eyes studied me with thoughtful intensity. "Your dual nature is a gift—you can learn both our ways."
"Both?" I asked, eyes widening. Most children followed either the Red or Blue path, rarely both.
"Both," Ayame confirmed with a gentle smile. "You carry both our bloodlines equally. There's no reason you can't learn from each tradition."
Kaoru nodded enthusiastically. "We'll make it fun! Racing games through the forest, swimming contests in the bay—"
"And puzzles to sharpen your mind," Ayame added. "Meditation to control your breathing, to focus your energy."
"When do we start?" I bounced on my toes, suddenly too excited to remember my earlier sadness.
"Tomorrow," they said in unison, then shared an amused glance at their synchronicity.
"But now," Ayame said firmly, "it's time for bed. A warrior needs her rest."
I opened my mouth to protest but caught myself—a real warrior wouldn't whine about bedtime. I straightened my shoulders and nodded solemnly.
"Yes, Mother. I'll rest well to prepare for training."
That night, I chose to sleep in my hammock on the balcony instead of inside. The night air carried the salt smell of the ocean, and stars scattered across the sky like diamond dust. I traced constellations with my finger, remembering how Rika had taught me their names.
The pendant lay cool against my chest, a promise and a reminder. In my mind, I pictured Rika standing tall on the deck of the ship, her armor gleaming, her future stretching before her like the endless horizon.
"One day, I'll stand proud like Rika," I whispered to the stars. The words felt like a vow, settling deep into my bones.
My eyelids grew heavy as the gentle sway of the hammock lulled me toward sleep. The sadness of saying goodbye had transformed into something new—a beginning rather than an ending. Tomorrow would be my first step.
As sleep claimed me, a small smile curved my lips. My journey had quietly begun.