Chapter Text
Thirteen is going to die today.
Her head is spinning, the sky mockingly blue past the shadow of the spiked ball coming down towards her face.
Useless. Everything she’s ever done. Completely useless.
The shadow splits.
Stunned, she can’t do anything but stare as the man about to kill her drops to the floor, gurgling from his slit throat. From here, she can’t see the other two men, but the successive thumps to the ground likely mean they’ve met the same fate.
She pulls herself up to her knees, taking in the sight of bloodied corpses. She feels no fear or shock, just an odd yet vicious satisfaction that these men are dead and the regret of not being the one to do it.
A sudden thought jolts her out of her stupor.
Mama.
Stumbling, she runs to her mother’s- god, her mother’s body . She hauls her up into an embrace, clutching at her shoulders. Her body’s turning cold in Thirteen’s hands, warmth draining away and turning the ground red.
She feels sick. She feels dizzy. Mostly, she’s deeply, furiously angry. With herself for being too weak, with these assholes for coming after them, with her worthless father who just left them to die.
She looks up at the figure clad in black. They’re already walking away, sword sheathed as though it took no effort at all to kill those men.
“Wait!”
The figure doesn’t stop.
She grits her teeth, gaze dropping to her mother. I’m sorry, Mama. I swear I’ll avenge you.
“Take me with you,” she demands, raising her head.
“...I’m not here to save you.” The figure doesn’t even deign to face her, but she’s used to that from her father. “I’m just a hired killer.”
“Then I’ll become a killer like you.” The world seems to turn sharper, focusing on the stranger’s silhouette. “Teach me how to fight. I’ll defeat anyone who gets in my way.”
Including my father.
He stops, just for a moment. His head turns slightly, then he keeps moving.
Fine. Fine. If he won’t agree now, she’ll make him. She stands up, leaving one last longing squeeze of her mother’s hand. Maybe she couldn’t convince her father, but she refuses to let all those years of training in secret go to waste. Her father may not acknowledge her existence, but she is still a daughter of the Plum Blossom Clan. Giving up isn’t an option.
So she takes her dagger and her bag, and starts walking.
–
They walk for three days and three nights without rest. By the time the stranger stops in a clearing in the middle of a forest, Thirteen is almost dead on her feet. She sways as she halts behind the stranger, then shakes her head to keep herself awake.
For the first time, he turns to face her fully. She blinks. He looks just a few years older than her, younger than her oldest sisters. Despite his still slightly rounded features, the dark shadows under his eyes make him look deeply tired and a little older.
“Why do you want to become a killer so badly?”
“So no one can hurt me or the people I care about ever again,” she answers immediately.
A beat of silence. And then with no warning, he darts forward, drawing his blade with a flash. She gasps in surprise, jerking away. Wind whistles past her ear.
She ducks into a roll, his sword coming straight down where she was half a second ago. The next slash comes too fast to dodge, so she brings her sword up to meet his. The clash rings out in the clearing.
He pushes down, forcing her arm down towards her face. There’s nothing in his eyes, just cold black and narrow-eyed focus.
I’m not dying here, she thinks, and the world sharpens into vivid colour.
She shoves her knee up, catching him in the stomach. With a hiss, he jumps back, giving her precious space to breathe and stand up. Before she can catch her breath, he’s on her again, steel flashing under dappled sunlight.
Duck. Dodge. Try to find openings and come up empty. It’s all she can do to stay on her feet, and yet she can’t help but get the feeling that he’s going easy on her. It’s infuriating.
Finally, the three days of exhaustion catches up to her, and she’s just a heartbeat too slow to dodge a swing of his sword. Time seems to slow. She sees it approaching her chest, too fast for her to move away. Disappointment spreads bitter on her tongue. Ten years of life and nothing to show for it.
At the last second, his sword turns, and the flat of his blade knocks her to the ground. She stares up at the sky, wheezing for air, the tip of his sword brushing her throat.
His face enters her field of vision, eyes impassive. She glares back, defiant. If she dies then she will do it with dignity.
“What’s your name?” he says suddenly.
Startled, it takes her a moment to answer. “Plum Blossom Thirteen.”
He steps back, sheathing his sword. She struggles to her feet.
“You’re not going to leave me alone, are you.”
“Not at all.”
He sets his jaw. “Fine. Lesson one: you’re too slow.”
The urge to scowl at him seizes her, but she forces it down. It’s fairly easy, given the giddy relief of him accepting her as his student at all.
“Understood, Shifu.”
A myriad of expressions flicker across his face before settling on a grimace, the first real show of emotion she’s seen from him. “And don’t call me that.”
She frowns. “But-”
“Just, don’t.”
“Well, it’s not like you’ve told me your name,” she argues.
He blinks like that didn’t occur to him. “Call me Qi.”
She bows her head. “Understood.” Then, unable to resist, she adds, “Shifu Qi.”
He lets out an annoyed sound at the back of his throat, and a giggle spills out unbidden.
He hesitates, eyeing her. “Do you...need to rest?”
Yes. “No.”
With a shrug, he starts walking again. She bends down to pick up her sword, intent on following him, but then the ground rushes up and everything goes black.
–
The rustling of leaves. Faint footsteps. A person? No, an animal, stepping delicately around twigs. The sound fades into the distance. It’s cold. It’s lonely. Wake up, now. Wake up.
Thirteen opens her eyes.
She groans, dragging herself up. Everything aches worse than her most intensive training sessions, to say nothing of the hunger tearing at her stomach or the headache pounding behind her eyes. There’s pain lancing along her neck and sides like she’s been sleeping on the floor.
Which, she realises slowly, is exactly what happened.
She’s in the same clearing she was in before, her bag where she dropped it a few metres away from her and her sword just off her left. And she’s alone. Even whatever animal it was she heard is nowhere to be seen.
She yanks her sword out of the dirt with vicious bitterness. So Qi left her, then. There’s no trace of him or any sign of where he might have gone. It really was too much to hope for, wasn’t it. A mentor who would actually teach her.
She stands up and instantly regrets it, her headache slamming to the forefront and her vision starting to go black. No. I am not passing out again.
Deep breath. In. Out. She walks carefully to her bag, picks it up and slings it over her back.
Think, Thirteen. Which direction did he last go in? And how long has it been?
Before she passed out, the sun was just setting. A quick glance up shows that tonight is, thankfully, a full moon. It’s low in the sky, so about an hour, then?
He could be out of the forest by now, for all she knows. Following him over the past three days required a near-constant jog in order to keep up.
“I’m not giving up,” she mutters, clutching her sword tighter.
But she’s so tired, and she’s so hungry. Surely she can lie down for a while? Just for a bit.
She thinks of her mother, never to be laid to rest because of Thirteen’s inability to protect her. If this is a test, then she’s not going to fail.
Walking back to where she woke up, she turns in a slow circle.
“He was walking in this direction,” she murmurs to herself. “That cluster of rocks? Might have left a trail…”
It’s worse not being familiar with this area, and not being anywhere near a road. That direction is better than nothing though, so she grits her teeth and starts walking. Again.
She’s getting really sick of walking.
Under the shadowed trees, time loses meaning. Her head feels stuffed with cotton and she’s probably one second away from collapsing at any moment. She’s desperately thirsty. But she’s alive, and she counts herself lucky for that.
Instinct tugs her forward, past identical copses of trees and frightened animals. Possibly she’s going in the entirely wrong direction. Possibly she’s getting deeper into the woods. But she’s not going to stop now. One foot in front of the other, come on. Just a little more.
A clearing. Leading out to a cliffside. There’s a cave at its base, just large enough to serve as a shelter. Maybe she should take a moment there to gather her thoughts and take refuge from the rain. She blinks blearily. That’s right, the rain. When did it start pouring? Oh god, she’s so tired.
The cave, then. Walk towards the cave. There’s someone there. She has her sword, but they could probably run her through before she even takes another breath.
Qi blinks up at her, pausing with bread halfway to his mouth. “You found me.”
“I did,” she says, hoping it sounds steady instead of slurred.
He tears the bread in half, leaning against the side of the cave wall. “Next time, don’t pass out.”
And whose fault is that? she bites her tongue.
Taking his silence as an invitation, she slumps onto the stone beside him as dignified as she can. Her qipao sticks uncomfortably to her soaked skin. Hesitantly, she takes one half of the bread. She might cry. She won’t, because she doesn’t need to embarrass herself any more than she already has, but she might. Plain bread has never tasted so heavenly in her life.
It’s gone too soon. Her stomach still pangs with hunger, but it’s better now, at least.
She stares out into the downpour, wondering what Qi is thinking or looking for. Will he leave her behind if she falls asleep this time? She’s already found him though. Hasn’t she proved her worth by now?
She stays awake as long as she can, fighting the pull of sweet oblivion. When it finally comes, she doesn’t even realise it.
