It finally happened.
I knew it would, just not this soon.
It had only been three years.
"Mikan, let go already," Ringo grunted, her voice strained.
"No! Don't go!" Mikan sobbed, clinging to her like a leech.
"Stop overreacting. I'm not leaving forever. Muromachi isn't that far."
Mikan's crying paused instantly. "How far is it?"
"On foot... a week. Maybe two."
"NOOO!" She buried her face right back into Ringo's chest and refused to budge.
"Now, now, Mikan," Mother said gently, placing a hand on her shoulder. "You knew this day was coming. Let go so we can give her a proper farewell."
Mikan had grown much closer to Ringo over these past few years. She hadn't reacted anywhere near like this when Eldest Sister Ichigo left. Maybe that loss had taught her how little time we actually get with one another once we start walking our martial paths.
...Or maybe she just couldn't handle her little sister leaving.
"She isn't even an adult yet!" Mikan snapped.
"She's stronger than most," Father replied simply.
That finally made Mikan loosen her grip—only for her to immediately pivot and latch onto me instead, bawling right into my shoulder.
"Go cry somewhere else!!"
Father turned to Ringo. "I've already informed the trader where you'll be dropped off. Remember, every beast you take down on the road while on duty earns you two copper." He leaned in, dropping his voice to a low murmur. "He's a friend, but he's greedy. Don't let him scam you."
"I heard that!" a loud voice barked from the other side of the cart.
Father just laughed.
"I understand, Father," Ringo said, a small smile cracking her usual quiet demeanor.
Mother pulled her into a tight, lingering hug. "Stay safe, alright?" she whispered softly. "If you ever change your mind, you can always come back."
"I know," Ringo murmured, hugging her back tightly.
Then she turned to me. She was smiling. Wide. I don't think I'd ever seen her look so genuinely happy. I smiled back. No words needed. We understood each other.
I stepped forward, opening my arms. "Be saf—"
Huh?
The sky and dirt violently swapped places.
Before I could process the grip on my clothes, I was airborne, launched headfirst toward the open fields. I snapped my weight mid-air and planted my feet on the dirt. My tail whipped out instinctually, slapping the ground as a counterweight to freeze my momentum instantly.
A chill spiked straight up my spine.
I ducked—a high kick whistling through the air right where my jaw had been a milisecond before.
"Woah! That felt stronger than—"
Her fingers shot straight toward my eyes like dual steel tips. I snapped my neck back just in time.
Without missing a beat, Ringo pressed forward, her hands blurring in rapid, razor-thin stabs toward my vitals. None of them landed as I was faster, but her rhythm was sharper than ever. I managed to slip a few counter-strikes past her guard, but she redirected them fluidly, using my own momentum to line up another jab straight for my face.
My tail flicked out, nudging her lead leg an inch off-course. The strike grazed empty air.
She didn't flinch. She simply accelerated, her attacks coming in a relentless, heavy wave. Each blocked hit rattled through my bones. I gritted my teeth, absorbing the impact, and braced to parry her next strike.
She snagged my wrist. Pulled hard.
My chest opened up, exposing my guard entirely as her fist shot for my eyes again. Instead of pulling back, I leaned straight into it.
Her knuckles smashed flat into my forehead.
THUD.
She winced at the solid impact. My vision swam for a second, but I shook it off, jumping clear as my tail flared with warning. A low sweep tore through the dirt where my feet had been.
Spinning in mid-air, I cocked my fist to strike back. Ringo reached up to grab my leg and redirect the momentum, anticipating the kick I usually threw.
Except the kick wasn't coming.
I contorted my upper body mid-rotation, converting the spin into a heavy downward punch that slammed directly into her crossed guard. She redirected it, but only partially. The raw weight of the strike forced her back, her sandals plowing two deep grooves into the dirt before she skidded to a halt.
Silence fell over the clearing. Mikan and our parents had gone completely still.
Ringo exhaled slowly, stepping forward.
"Hehe... caught you off guard, didn't it?" I grinned, scratching the back of my neck. "I was inspired by Eldest Sister's illusion techni—"
She stepped in and wrapped her arms tightly around my torso.
"You've really grown strong, Merun."
She held me tight for a quiet moment, then whispered against my ear: "Protect our family while I'm gone, okay?"
I'd been growing like a weed these past few years. At eight years old, I was already matching her height—though that wasn't saying much.
She was tiny.
Our spars had grown brutal over time. I could handle Mikan without breaking a sweat now; my eyes and instincts were too fast for her style. I could even wear Ringo down in a drawn-out brawl, her grapples no longer able to lock me down like they used to.
The day I nearly beat her, something had clicked for her. I was scaling up naturally, but she had plateaued. She needed real danger. New battlefields, foreign techniques, and a wider world.
I hugged her back, squeezing tight. "Of course. Stay safe out there, Big Sister. Thanks for everything."
Now I finally understood why she was so desperate to join a clan.
Father and Mother stood side by side, holding each other as Mikan continued to bawl her eyes out. I shouted my goodbyes over her sobbing.
The buffalo cart lurched forward, wheels creaking over the dirt path. Ringo walked beside it for a few paces, waving back, her figure slowly shrinking into the distance... until she was finally gone.
———
Muromachi.
I knew it was a fortress city guarded by the Shinken Clan, one of the most powerful martial houses in the country. Hearing that they harbored more Sages than almost any other faction barely registered as news to me.
Sages.
Unfathomable, god-like beings to the locals. Having read about them back in my past life, they felt a lot more human and grounded to me. But to my family? They spoke about Sages the way priests talked about living deities walking among mortals.
I learned real quick that they weren't in the mood for jokes about it either. A casual comment about the Martial Sages earned me a sharp smack on the mouth and a lecture that dragged on until my ears bled, as if they genuinely feared a Sage could hear my disrespect from three provinces away.
Sages were terrifyingly strong—I'll give them that. But they weren't omniscient, and they certainly weren't untouchable gods.
Due to the nature of martial paths and the progression of power in this world, Sages were quite unique people.
Trying to explain that to my family went absolutely nowhere. All it brought was more lip-smacking and stern glares. This country thrived on war, and in a world like this, Sages were basically war gods carved from flesh and bone. If not for the Transcendents sitting above them, people would've already built temples and written holy scriptures in their names.
Still, why go through all that brutal screening just to join the Shinken Clan specifically?
Because every major clan in Sekigahara specialized in a specific discipline. They didn't ignore other arts, but they poured their entire collective history into elevating one singular domain above all others.
And the Shinken Clan stood at the absolute pinnacle of defensive martial arts.
It was the perfect fit for Ringo.
Sigh...
I wish I could grow up much faster. I wanted to enter a noble academy. I want to learn this world's martial arts in its entirety.
But first...
I think it's time to get my pod.