The Chosen Artist

Author’s Note: So, continuing my attempt at various first chapters, to see what people enjoy more, this is my attempt at something inspired by Eastern fantasy/mythology. As you’re reading, you’ll no doubt immediately spot where various inspirations come from; it’s a mishmash of anime inspirations, Avatar the Last Airbender, 80s movies, and more. I’m not trying to be groundbreakingly original with it, but I always enjoy trying to arrange narrative expectations and elements in interesting ways, so I hope you find it interesting! Let me know what you think! 

~~~

The end of summer brought a dry southerly wind to Qixi. The ever-growing city of sand, steel, and water reached further into the desert every day. In the shadows of palm trees and red stone buildings, automobiles rolled along paved streets, their engines roaring as people went about their lives. The people and spirits of the city flowed along the sidewalks bordering the roads, moving and stopping in rhythm with the changing signals. 

Outside the city walls, sandsailers practiced a booming trade leading cruises through the desert to behold its natural wonders. The rock formations, caverns, and vast sea of sand posed their own dangers, but people from all over Shì paid a premium for adventure into Tengeriin nomad territory. 

The desert, the spirits in it, and even the beasts had always been good to Ziri. The people in the city were another matter. Tourists called Qixi the diamond of the desert, which Ziri believed well enough. Its streets were hard, and cold, but beautiful in his eyes. Casinos, inns, taverns, brothels, and plenty of theatrical attractions announced their offerings in gaudy neon signs that robbed the night sky of its stars. 

During the day, the tourists remaining in the city spent their time indoors, as did most of the locals. The streets were empty except for a few carriage buses arriving from different far-off cities and towns, places Ziri had never visited before. 

Tucked away from the main flow of traffic, a narrow street passed a row of homes built into a single block-long building. Each door had a different number beside it, and the cars parked out front were big, blocky, and nearly as colorful as the people they ferried. 

Inside, the paper boxes sat like tombstones in the hallway beside the stairs, each one labeled in his mother’s careful calligraphy. Ziri read his name on fewer than half the boxes, differentiating his belongings from his mother’s. They were packing light, but they didn’t have much in the way of wealth or possessions. His mother worked hard, and the legally dubious street games Ziri sometimes ran with his friends brought in some money, but never enough for luxury. Ziri ran his fingertips along the edge of a box, feeling the way the tape pulled away at the corner, sealing away eighteen years of his life for manageable transport. 

“You’ll love it there, kid, I promise.” Uncle Lee said as Ziri hefted the box into his arms. He started carrying it to the car, and his uncle followed. “It’ll be a good fresh start. You can reinvent yourself.” 

He didn’t answer his uncle immediately. Instead, he let his gaze ascend the stairs one last time, turning right and taking the second door on the left to his now-empty bedroom. 

“I don’t know,” Ziri said, voicing his doubt for the millionth time. He pushed his back against the door, opening it and letting in the early morning heat of the Tengeriin desert. “And I’m not a kid. I’m eighteen. I’m starting college, not elementary school.” 

“Yeah, sure, kid.” Uncle Lee said dismissively as he held the door for Ziri, then closed it behind them as he followed him onto the pavement. “But I promise. I visited Maugamua once. It was great, Nokoribi Island, the place was called. Beautiful beaches, just beautiful, and the women! Heh. A ladies' man like you? You’ll love it there. You can make better friends than your street rat friends here, find a nice job, then a nice girl, marry her, settle down, make your mother proud.” 

Ziri rolled his eyes as he opened the rear hatch of the car, set the box down, and pushed it forward to join the others. The “cabbage mobile” had seen better days, which must have been long before Ziri was born. The old car was beat up; its once-vibrant green had long faded in the sun, earning it its nickname from Ziri. 

He closed the hatch after pushing the box in. The game of fitting everything so that the boxes aligned perfectly was something he left to his mother as she prepared the car for the journey ahead.

“We’re not going to Nokoribi Island.” His mother, Lo, corrected his uncle as she emerged from the house with a thermos of ice water. “We’re going to Wenyu University, it’s a very prestigious school.” 

Uncle Lee nodded toward Ziri, who was heading into the house for the next box. 

“But the campus is close to the beach!” His mother added. She opened the driver’s door and placed the thermos between the seats. When she withdrew and rested her arm on the car’s roof, she continued. “You can always walk down there every morning and go for a swim! I know how much you love the water.” 

“Don’t they have pools?” Ziri asked. He stopped in the doorway, turned around, and leaned against the door. He glanced in the direction of the neighborhood pool a block away that he, his cousins, and their friends used. 

“The university has a pool. I checked.” Lo said, smiling slightly. “So does our new apartment complex. You’ll love it.” 

Ziri bowed, a sign of his acceptance that bore no enthusiasm, and headed into the house. The number of boxes to take lowered with every trek, and he was down to the last two. He picked up the heavier box and cast his gaze to the family portraits hanging in the hallway. His uncle Lee, in his fine business suit, and his aunt Petu, in her traditional Tengeriin wraps. His father, wearing a seaserpent-tooth necklace and bearing a darker skin tone, which were the only suggestions of his Báisī heritage. A picture of his mother and himself as a much younger child, gap-toothed and misbehaving as usual, stared back at him, their laughter silent in the hallway. 

Ziri adjusted the photograph, straightening it to reveal a brighter patch of wall now rising at an angle behind it. The picture had been crooked for so long that the sunlight coming in through the window had outlined its new proper place. Ziri restored its position, leaving it crooked with his own crooked grin. He carried the second-to-last box outside, letting his uncle open the hatch for him. 

“When did you get taller than me anyway?” Lee asked, chuckling as Ziri straightened up and looked down at his uncle. The familiar older man was older and rounder than his photograph in the hallway, with his smile lines etched deeper into his face. 

Ziri shrugged. “I don’t know. I remember I thought you were a giant when we moved in.” 

Lee clapped him on the shoulder, squeezing gently. It’d been their version of a hug ever since his father passed. Ziri reached across himself and clasped his hand over his uncle’s, nodding his thanks at the silent gesture. 

“Is that the last box?” His mother asked, doing her best not to intrude on the moment. 

“One more,” Ziri answered, stepping away as his uncle released him. “I’ll get it.” 

“And don’t forget that pet of yours,” Lee said. “Or your cousin Ji might try to cook it. I swear he’ll put anything in that toy oven.”

Ziri chuckled at that, despite having lost at least one artist figurine to his cousin’s Easy-Flame Oven. He entered the house, picking up the last box as he gave the place one final look to burn into his memory forever. The noise of rapid footsteps and loud, playful cries from his younger cousins interrupted his silent, contemplative examination of the scuff marks on the floor as they barreled into the hallway from the kitchen like monkeys. 

His aunt Petu followed them, holding her pregnant stomach with Tobi perched on her shoulder. The purple-feathered bird with its golden beak, crest, and talons chirped happily as its beady black eyes landed on Ziri. It hopped from Petu’s shoulder, bouncing from the ground with a flap of its wings and landing on his shoulder, snaking its serpentine tail around the back of his neck to hug his shoulders, and nuzzling against his cheek. 

“Did you have fun with Aunt Petu?” Ziri asked, and the tiny bird chirped and trilled as if telling him a story. 

“All packed?” Aunt Petu asked, interrupting the tale. She’d taken off her traditional wraps and exchanged them for a simple brown and green dress. Her long, brown hair was swept back with a headband, showcasing the silver earrings his cousin had given her for her last birthday. The rudimentary design and lack of refined elegance didn’t bother her; she rarely wore any of her fine jewelry, but always wore these for special family occasions. 

“Last box,” Ziri said, patting the side. “Mom and Uncle Lee are out at the car.” 

“We’ll follow you out,” Petu said. “You have everything?” 

Ziri nodded. “Checked and double-checked.” 

“Tobi should stay here!” His younger cousin Ji protested as he tugged on Ziri’s shirt. “We like Tobi!” 

“And Tobi likes you, but he’s your cousin’s bird, spirit, thing,” Petu said, giving Tobi a doubtful look. They still weren’t sure what Tobi was. Not all spirit-beasts had a classification, as the way spirits affected animals could change depending on the spirit and the animal involved. Ziri had rescued Tobi from some former friends at his school who wanted to use him to fight other spirit-beasts, and Tobi had been by his side ever since. He often snuck the tiny bird scraps from his meals, which only reinforced Tobi’s devotion. He slept in Ziri’s bed, and while he played with the younger cousins, he’d always find Ziri if left to his own devices. 

The summer sun scorched the air as Ji pushed the door open ahead of Ziri. His cousins ran ahead, laughing as Ziri held the door with his back and Petu waddled past him. 

“You’ve got your route all set?” Lee asked as Lo hugged him goodbye. 

“Yes,” Lo said, smiling. “We’re taking the car to Zhan, then loading up and taking a ship from there to Wenyu Island.” 

“It’s still weird to imagine you living in Maugamua,” Petu said as she hugged Lo farewell. 

Ziri slid the last box into the car, and Tobi hopped from his shoulder, traveling along the top of the boxes to nest between the seats. 

“Plenty of people live in Maugamua.” His mother said, laughing. 

Ziri stood and closed the hatch. He found himself memorizing the street he’d traversed every day since he could walk. He remembered riding his bike along the street, falling over just past the Zong’s garden statue of the chosen Gedun three doors down, and scraping his knee. Tobi had flown beside him and flew straight to his mother when he’d taken his spill, the tattletale.

The gnarled telephone pole with its messy mop of wires above it marked the first place he’d fought someone, and the first time he lost a tooth. That they were the same occasion probably made the tooth thing less memorable, but not to Ziri. 

He could see a slice of the faded mural on the side of the corner ice-cream store. The painted stone facade depicted a member of each of the six nations holding hands, now weathered, but still hopeful in the smiles surrounding a dancing ice spirit. The mural was a ghost of what it once was, and its future grew shorter with every passing day. That was life, a brief existence compared to the stones it was painted on, waiting for time to weather away hope speck by speck until there was nothing left. 

Ziri sighed. Maybe a change of scenery was a good idea, or perhaps he’d get into just as much trouble in a new city as he did here. He’d have to wait and see. He turned away from the mural.  

On the other end of the street, the ancient palm tree where he’d shared his first kiss with Ari Fong stood bent and crooked as always. He remembered walking her home after the school dance, both of them nervous after dancing together for the first time. Her father’s scowl when he kissed her again at the gate to her house was something he wouldn’t forget anytime soon, either. Mister Fong was a banker, and he wasn’t about to let his daughter waste time with a scoundrel and a good-for-nothing gutter kid. Ziri still remembered overhearing those words and Ari’s ‘breaking up’ with him a few days later.  

The hug from his cousins startled him as they wrapped their arms around his waist. His mother patted his back, and his uncle clasped his shoulder one last time. “Call me if you need anything, or if you get into any trouble.” His uncle said to him and his mother. “We’re always right here.” 

Ziri did his best to bow, but found his movement hindered by his cousins. Still, his uncle returned the display of respect and affection, however limited. 

“You ready to go?” His mother asked, rubbing his upper back as he straightened. 

He wanted to say no, to unpack the boxes and pretend the deadline hadn’t arrived. His mother hadn’t gotten the new job, Wenyu University hadn’t accepted him as a student, and the car wasn’t waiting to carry him into an unknowable future, leaving the fumes of a familiar past in the rearview mirrors. He’d had plenty of practice playing the surly, defiant teenager, and the temptation to dig his heels in and declare he was staying loomed large. 

Uncle Lee cleared his throat, but not as a warning. The sound was rough, hiding the kind emotions beneath. For a man of respectable age, Uncle Lee was nowhere near as tough as he looked. “Don’t change too much. Your cousins will want to recognize you when you come to visit.” 

“Yeah.” Ziri nodded. “I’ll miss you rascals.” He tussled Ji’s hair and bowed to his aunt as best he could. He hugged his cousins, getting on their level to hug them all at the same time. His mother got into the car, wiping her eyes as she started the engine. The old machine rumbled to life and protested waking from its nap with every grunt its oil-fed pistons could produce. 

“Take care of yourself and your mother.” Aunt Petu said, straightening his shirt and patting his chest. “Make her proud, but be proud of yourself, too. You’ve worked hard, cleaned up your act, and earned your place at that school. Your mom’s job didn’t have anything to do with that.” 

Ziri nodded, bowing to his aunt and uncle one more time before he slipped into the passenger’s seat. He buckled his seatbelt as his mom changed gears. The grinding transmission annoyed Tobi, who hopped from his place between the seats and into Ziri’s lap. His long, serpentine tail curled around him as he curled into a tiny ball and shuffled his feathers to get comfortable. 

Ziri turned the crank in the door, rolling the window down to keep his connection to this place as he waved goodbye to his cousins. He twisted in his seat to see the house as his mother pulled away. His younger cousins ran after the car, waving and cheering as they bid farewell. His aunt and Uncle remained at the curb, waving. The morning sun caught the windows of the house, flashing golden light into the street as if winking goodbye. 

His mother turned the car onto the main road, and the house in its row of homes was no longer in the mirror. The neighborhood flowed past the windows like a cinematic reel of his youth. The Cuju Ball court where he’d played as a kid, the bus stop where he’d waited countless mornings for his ride to school, the small park where his mother had pushed him on the swings until her arms ached. Each landmark was a frame of his life. As they drove toward the highway, Ziri saw the reel ending, the final frame suspended in the rearview mirror growing smaller with each second. 

Lo reached over and squeezed his hand, her palm warm from its tight grip on the steering wheel. “Are you excited?” She asked, her tone uncertain. 

Ziri squeezed her hand and turned his eyes forward, looking out through the city gate onto the highway ahead, snaking its way through the desert and disappearing over the uncrossed horizon. The terrifying future loomed ahead as the next reel of his life slotted into place, and Ziri left his childhood behind. 

“Sure.” He said, and part of him might have even meant it. “I’m excited.”

~~~

The open road carried them through the desert and away from home. He supposed it wasn’t home anymore. Qixi was their old home, and their new home lay ahead. 

The rotor fans in the dash worked overtime. Ziri’s mother kept an eye on the road as well as the gauges for gasoline, oil, and coolant while driving. The food his aunt Petu packed lasted them the day. They ate lunch while moving, but stopped for dinner when they refueled. 

The roadside motel they stayed in that night wasn’t anything to write Uncle Lee about. Rundown, dirty, but affordable. They slept as little as possible and got on the road early after grabbing a few snacks from the vending machine for breakfast. Chips and Flame-Fries were a far cry from Aunt Petu’s waffles, but they kept hunger at bay. 

Tobi didn’t like the chips, but Ziri shared his sunstalk seeds with the fist-sized creature, which settled his temper. 

“I know it wasn’t your first choice,” His mother said after a few hours of driving. “But you’ll see. You’ll love it there. Wenyu Island is just as nice as Gònghéguó.”

Ziri didn’t answer her as the desert rolled past them. He stroked Tobi’s head, letting the fluffy down feathers of his headcrest soothe his palm as the bird closed his eyes and enjoyed the head pats. 

“Wenyu has students from all over the world, and in some fields it even tests higher than Gònghéguó University.” His mother added. 

Ziri rested his cheek on his fist, looking out the window. 

“Are you really that unhappy with it?” 

Ziri frowned. The university was fine. It wasn’t his first choice, but she was right; one school probably didn’t differ much from any other. It wasn’t as prestigious, in his mind, as Gònghéguó University. Gònghéguó had always been that far-off dream of a world, full of the best inventions, the best schools, theaters, and the most wonderful restaurants—a monument to the arts and sciences, which rejected his application.

“The university has a partnership with a local arts academy, so there are plenty of opportunities to hone your skills. Won’t that be fun? You can finally attend a proper artistry dojo.” 

Ziri nodded. Dancing was important to him. He and his friends, people he’d no longer see, spent hours every day practicing the movements and perfecting their forms. As someone without a spiritual connection to the art, Ziri’s practice had been more theory than application. He pursued the art of earth for entertainment and self-defense, rather than proper artistry.

“How popular is artistry in Maugamua?” Ziri asked.

“About as popular as everywhere.” His mother answered honestly. “Fire artistry is probably the most popular there, if I had to guess.” 

That made sense. Integration was standard in the nations nowadays. Qixi was divided nearly equally between members of the six nations, each of which brought the arts from their homelands with them. Being in the Empire of Shì brought a certain amount of diversity, since it was the central nation, the hub of trade and politics. 

Still, Shì had its traditional arts and tilted more toward earth artistry than anything else. The United Islands of Maugamua were probably similar, but leaned more toward fire artistry. However, Wenyu was pretty close to the mainland, so maybe it was more like Qixi. He wouldn’t know until he got there. 

Not that it really mattered. Ziri didn’t care what nation anyone was from; he just didn’t want to be the only Shì guy at college. He’d already feel like an outsider, and didn’t want to add to it by being the only one. 

“Come on, cheer up.” His mother said. “I know it’s a big change, but it’s a fresh start for you. You’ll find your people. Your tribe, as your father would say.” 

“Yeah.” Ziri agreed, in word if not in spirit. 

Tobi nipped at his finger, biting it gently in reproach at his dismissive and sarcastic tone. 

“Thanks, mom,” Ziri added, appeasing the tiny spirit-beast bird. The tiny creature’s crusade to keep him on the straight and narrow never ended. He poked Tobi in retaliation, and the bird wrapped its tail around his finger, holding it off from prodding its wing. 

Ziri laughed, and Tobi rubbed his head against Ziri’s hand, releasing his finger so that he could receive head and neck scritches.

The rest of the drive passed in relative silence, while Ziri watched the desert road show signs of life as they cut toward the southeast sea. Miles of sand became miles of red rock, with green cacti and weeds spreading through their cracks. Their journey took them southward through the shortest branch of the desert road to Zhan. A few cars passed them going the opposite way, but the open road was a blessing. Antelope, deer, and even cows roamed the land, uncaring whether they blocked the road or grazed beside it. 

Three times, Ziri had to get out of the car and shoo them away, much to Tobi’s annoyance as he hopped on the dashboard and spread his wings, commanding the greater beasts with all the bravery the automobile afforded him with its metal frame and glass windshield. 

Eventually, the red mountains at the edge of the Tengeriin desert gave way to green fields and another roadside motel. This one was even more sparse than the first, with fewer cars in the pockmarked parking lot. The red neon sign said “Vacancy” as if it were a plea for customers. Tobi took the opportunity to stretch his wings, flying low over the grounds and chirping at the grass sprites as they danced in the tall weeds. 

Lo sent Ziri into the office to check in as she stretched her legs, and he found it cleaner than he expected. The traditional Tengeriin decor gave the impression that a proud native Tengerrin tribe owned the motel, as did the attire of the hostess. 

The young woman behind the counter smiled at Ziri in a way that made him wish he weren’t traveling with his mother. 

“Staying a while?” She asked, eying him from beneath her Tengeriin headdress. Its red cloth wraps hid her hair, but left her face exposed. Her eyes were the brightest blue he’d ever seen, contrasting sharply with her sun-bronzed skin. Of course, the only skin exposed was her face, but strips of matching cloth clung to her limbs, showing off a fit and sporty figure. A blue overcloth hung in one panel over her front and another over her back, leaving her sides exposed but covering her from her knees and above with a sash tied around her waist and resting over her slender hips. The printed characters on her badge, resting just below her collarbone, spelled out her name as Chesa. 

“Just tonight,” Ziri said. “We’re on our way to Wenyu Island.” 

“The university?” She asked, surprised. “My little sister goes there.” 

“Oh?” Ziri asked, surprised. His mother had told him that people from all over flocked to Wenyu, but he had assumed that was marketing material, not a realistic expectation. “Does she like it?” 

“Yeah. Their music program is excellent. I just graduated from there last year, myself, but I went for their business program.” Chesa said. 

“Do you own the motel?” Ziri asked, impressed. 

“Family business,” Chesa answered with a small smile. “But Penpa, my little sister, is going for music. She wants to break into the music industry as a sound engineer.” 

“Cool. I’m not sure what I’m going for yet, but I have some time to figure it out. I’ll take my aptitudes test once I get there,” Ziri said, shrugging. 

“Oh, a freshman, I thought you looked young,” Chesa said, smiling as her eyes wandered over his loose, sleeveless t-shirt and jeans. He’d dressed more modernly than she had, though he supposed her more traditional outfit might be out of respect for her family’s traditions, or to play along with tourists. “Is that why you’re going early? Penpa’s not due to leave for another week.”

“Yeah,” Ziri said. “That, and my mother recently joined the university as a computer engineering professor, so we’re moving early to settle in before the semester.” 

“Cute,” Chesa smiled as her eyes finished their wandering and returned to meeting his gaze. “So, one room, or two?” 

“Oh, we have one, I think, a reservation under Lo Wong?” Ziri said, nodding to her book. 

Chesa checked the log and turned the hefty leather-bound tome toward him to sign. He signed in, writing the characters of his name in quick, but legible lines. She checked his signature before closing the book and handing him two keys to room nine. 

“Nice to meet you, Tiziri, I’m Chesa by the way.” She said as she bowed.

“It’s nice to meet you, too,” Ziri said, bowing in return. “My friends call me Ziri, though, so feel free to call me that.” 

“Ziri,” Chesa corrected. “Feel free to use the pool out back, and the rooftop garden is great for meditation. We don’t have many people staying here since it’s early in the week, but try to keep things down after ten, and there’s a Cuju court on the side if you can find someone to play with.” 

“Do you play?” Ziri asked, curious. 

“Sure, my sister and I play sometimes when we’re not working. You might spot her out there, she’s the punk with the headphones.” Chesa chuckled. 

“She doesn’t wear the traditional Tengeriin robes like you do?” Ziri asked as he stepped toward the door. 

Chessa laughed. “Only when we’re working. People expect it.” She shrugged. “See you around. Feel free to stop by if you need anything.” 

Ziri bowed again, expressing his gratitude for the offer, and left the office behind. His mother was leaning against the car, reading a paperback book as he approached and offered her one of the two keys. “You go ahead and rest,” Ziri offered. “I’ll carry in our things and get us set up.” 

“Thanks,” Lo nodded, and took his offer. The motel room proved quiet and respectable, clean, with no frills whatsoever. A clunky television, a radio between two single beds, and a bathroom with its sink outside in the main room against the far wall. The dry, well-worn carpet was tightly knit, and Lo read a few pages as Ziri ferried in their suitcases. 

“I think I’m going to go for a walk,” Ziri said, looking out the window at the setting sun. 

“Good idea,” Lo said, yawning. “You go find Tobi, I’m going to nap, I think. Then we can have dinner.” 

Ziri smiled softly. He wasn’t too alarmed by Tobi wandering off. The spirit beast was smart enough to find his way back, and he’d never failed to find Ziri no matter where he was, even when he wasn’t home or at school. He’d return before they left, since he never missed a night’s sleep on Ziri’s bed. 

“Okay, have a nice nap,” Ziri said, leaving his mother behind as she rolled onto her side. 

Left to his own devices, Ziri decided to walk around the motel, circling the building from its parking lot to the side where the Cuju court was supposed to be. To his total lack of surprise, the court’s central net was old and weathered, and the oval opening in the middle seemed poorly stitched. He didn’t see a ball, but sitting on a bench on the far end of the court was a young woman matching Chesa’s description of her sister. 

She sat with her elbows on her thighs, leaning forward, holding a square gray cassette player in her hands, bopping her head to the music pouring through the pink headphones that attached to the player with a spiral cord. Her mostly-shaved head showed several days’ worth of short brown hair close to her scalp, culminating in a long braid that disappeared behind her as it fell from the peak of her skull. The bottom of her forehead bore an intricate, dark-brown tattoo —a dot surrounded by six tiny symbols. 

Her clothes were large, loose, and layered. A bright orange, sleeveless crop top showcased arms with well-defined, feminine muscles, lithe and tight, decorated with dark brown tribal tattoos that Ziri didn’t know how to decipher. A tight pair of matching leggings clung to her calves and thighs like a second skin, while a strip of blue fabric hanging in front and behind preserved her modesty. It was an intriguing mixture of modern clothing with a traditional Tengeriin twist that Ziri appreciated—a balance between old and new. 

The young woman looked up as he approached, not because he’d made any noise louder than her music, but because the grass sprites came running to the edge of the cuju court. The tiny balls of green fuzz bounced with impatience as if they were about to watch a game together. 

A bird cried overhead, and Ziri lifted his gaze to see Tobi swooping toward him. He lifted his hand, and Tobi alighted on his outstretched finger with grace, wrapping his tail over Ziri’s wrist. 

“Well, shit,” Penpa said, turning off her cassette with a click as she depressed the button. “You’ve got a way with spirits and spirit-beasts. Are you a spirit artist?” 

Ziri chuckled at the frankness, but shook his head as he brought Tobi toward him and rubbed the feathered crest with his other palm. “Not a spirit artist, but Tobi and I go way back. Not sure what’s up with the grass spirits, though.” They danced eagerly at the court’s edge, as if the faded chalk line over the grass were a glass barrier. 

“Looks like they want to watch a game,” Penpa said as she slipped her headphones down around her neck, wearing them like a torc. “Do you play?” 

“Yeah, I play.” Ziri nodded. “You want to do some one-on-one?” 

Penpa chuckled. “Sure.” 

She hopped off the bench, set her cassette player down, and pulled off her headphones, leaving them stacked on top of the cassette player as she strode toward him. “I’m Penpa, by the way.” She bowed. “What’s your name?” 

“I’m Ziri.” He bowed in response. “And this is Tobi.” 

The spirit-beast chirped, as if saying ‘nice to meet you’ in his own language, and bowed his head in sync with Ziri. 

“Oh, you’re so cute!” Penpa said, wiggling her fingers at Tobi. “And your spirit-beast isn’t ugly either.” 

Ziri laughed at the misdirection, a short bark of surprise that made Penpa’s smile widen. “Well, he’s not really mine, but he sticks close by.” 

“Is he gonna let you play, or is he gonna perch on your hand the whole time?” Penpa asked. “Can I pet him?” 

“You okay if she pets you, Tobi?” Ziri asked. 

Tobi lifted his head from his bow, turned an eye toward Penpa, and dipped his beak in a nod. 

Penpa bit her lip and nervously held her hand out toward him. Tobi stretched his long, serpentine neck toward her and rubbed his face against her finger. 

“Aw, you’re so adorable.” Penpa squealed. “Okay, you stay here, I’ll go get the Cuju ball. It’s in the office.” 

Tobi squawked and flew upward as Penpa ran past him toward the office, leaving Ziri alone with the grass spirits as they stared at him. He stared back at them. They blinked first, in a wave of blinks that momentarily hid their tiny white eyes. 

“Am I a spirit artist?” Ziri asked, as if speaking to the sprites. 

The grass spirits collectively shrugged, making Ziri laugh, which caused them to disperse and reform, bobbing in the tall grass beyond the chalk outline. 

He waited a minute, but Penpa hadn’t returned, so he wandered over to the bench. Curious, he held one headphone to his ear and pressed play on the cassette. Mìmì Suìdào by the Minstrels started playing halfway through, and Ziri bopped his head. It was an older song, but catchy, and its simple lyrics had a habit of worming their way into his head. He finished that song and rewound the tape to more or less where it’d been before restoring the headphones to their resting place. 

“I’ve got the ball!” Penpa said, calling from the other side of the field. She tossed it, then kicked it toward Ziri, who shifted his stance and stopped it with his knee, then bounced it on his ankle, kicking it back toward Penpa at the end of the court. “Game on!” 

As if a whistle blew, Ziri rushed forward. Penpa dodged around him, kicking the ball high into the air as she spun around. She moved behind him as the ball fell, and she sent it sailing forward with her knee toward the net in the center. It sailed through, landing in the dirt on the other side. 

“Ha! First point!” Penpa cried, pumping her fist as the grass spirits danced on the sidelines. 

Ziri chuckled, moving to the other side of the net and planting his feet on either side of the ball. He rolled it forward, then spun it backward so it rolled onto the top of his foot, kicking it into the air to bounce on his knee. Somehow, Penpa was there between him and the net, and she jumped to steal the ball with a kick of her leg, striking out with a split kick that made him lean back to avoid her heel. 

“Wow, you’re… pretty flexible,” Ziri said as Penpa’s kick sent the ball sailing toward the net. It missed, bouncing off the net and back toward the pair. Ziri dove to the side to keep the ball from hitting the ground, keeping it in play by striking it toward the net with his elbow. It sailed through, landing in the dirt on the other side. 

The grass spirits bounced higher than before, two of them standing on either side of the mass watching at the centerline. 

“Are they keeping our points?” Ziri asked, chuckling. 

“They like watching our games,” Penpa said, moving over to the other side of the net. “Your grass spirits back home don’t watch your games?” 

“Not many grass spirits where I come from,” Ziri said as he followed her around the net and took up a ready stance. “We live in Qixi, not a lot of grass there. Lived, I guess I should say.” 

“My sister said you’re going to Wenyu, like I am?” Penpa asked, as she faked him out, kicking the ball at the net and groaning as it bounced away from the oval eye in the center. 

“Yeah,” Ziri said as he kicked the ball on the rebound. “I’m starting there this semester.” 

“Freshmen, eh?” Penpa asked, twirling around him to block the net, and managing to catch the ball with her chest, bumping it into the air and kicking it upward with her heel when it fell, trying to knock it over her head. She missed, sending the ball over the net entirely, with neither able to get it before it bounced off the ground. 

The ball rolled toward the bench, and Ziri collected it, holding it in his hands as he prepared to bounce it off his knee and set it into play. 

“I’m a sophomore this year. Maybe we’ll see each other there?” Penpa asked. “It’s a big campus, but we can always have a little one-on-one if you’re up for it.” 

“Yeah, that’d be great,” Ziri said, bouncing the ball on his knees and with the side of his foot to keep it airborne as he maneuvered around Penpa’s blocking. “I’ve been nervous about making friends over there; it’ll be nice to know one’s coming.” 

Penpa smiled, striking to steal the ball again, but Ziri saw it coming and hooked the ball backward with the top of his foot, stepping back to keep possession. Seeing an opening as Penpa spun, he surged forward, stopped only by the sudden sight of Penpa lifting her crop top, dropping two beautiful breasts into view. It was only a moment, but the smooth, round flesh startled him, along with the pert, stiff nipples that stared back at him as the ball suddenly jerked away. Two tiny pink buds crested the peak of each breast. Both were large enough for him to clasp one with thumbs and fingers touching. High and pert, they bounced as they dropped, and again as Penpa moved, stealing the ball.

Ziri’s face bloomed crimson as the after-image of her breasts played in his mind’s eye. His body’s reaction interfered with his maneuvering, and Penpa sent the ball sailing through the eye of the net without any opposition. 

She cheered for herself as she fixed her top, and the grass spirits cheered with her. They bobbed and danced on the sidelines as one from the mass in the middle ran to the left and joined its fellow, counting two points for Penpa and one for Ziri. Ziri hung his head and shook the image out of his mind. 

“I’d say that’s cheating, but it’s probably not against any official rules,” Ziri said, laughing along with Penpa. 

“Heh, probably not,” Penpa agreed. “I don’t play by the rules anyway.” She waggled her eyebrows, which made Ziri laugh more. 

She kicked the ball to him, putting it back into play. Ziri caught it with his chest, bouncing the ball on his knee and getting back into the game. 

Half an hour later, the score was Penpa’s six to Ziri’s four, and both found the game draining them of their energy. They played hard, kicking, bouncing, and kneeing the ball as they danced around each other, panting with effort. She’d only flashed him once, but Ziri kept hoping to make her do it again. She was cute, and beyond that, she had a great figure with surprisingly full breasts, but try as he might, she didn’t resort to lifting her top a second time. 

Panting, Ziri raised his hand to signal he needed a break. Penpa fell back onto the short grass, spreading her arms. 

“Oh, thank you,” She said, chuckling. “I’ve been running on empty for ten minutes.” 

Ziri chuckled. Drenched with sweat, he took off his t-shirt and wrung it out, twisting the fabric and squeezing his arms. The gesture showcased his impressive shoulders and biceps, capturing his opponent’s attention. 

Penpa sat up, a low whistle passing her lips as she eyed him like a pile of candy. 

“Are you sure you’re not an artist of some kind?” Penpa asked. “I don’t think I’ve seen any non-artists with that many abs.” 

Ziri blushed. “No, I just stay active and do my best to stay fit. What about you? You’ve got some impressive abs and muscles yourself.”

“I never claimed not to be an artist,” Penpa said, more smug than she needed to be as she sat up. “I’m a wind artist; everyone in my family is, but if you’re not an artist, how are you so fit? Did you play for your school or something?” Penpa asked. “Are you going out for Wenyu’s team?” 

“I did, for a season, and I might, if there’s room on the team,” Ziri answered. He doubted he had the skill of some of their scouted players, but he could learn. “Mostly I played with my friends, and we’d practice earth artistry, the movements and basics anyway, I never had the talent for the real stuff.” 

“Really?” Penpa glanced up at the sky, where Tobi was circling above the field. “You seem spiritual enough to have the connection.” 

Ziri shrugged. He wasn’t an artist, and that’s all there was to it. He’d gone through the typical evaluations at school as a kid, but the earth artistry sifu had told him in no uncertain terms that he had no talent and no understanding. Harsh, but the elder instructor was always in a bad mood, and Ziri did his best to avoid him. 

“Oh, well,” Penpa said, and reached her hand toward Ziri. 

Ziri helped her stand, and she brushed herself off as he bowed to her. “Thank you for the game.” 

“You’re welcome,” Penpa said, bowing in return. Free from the largest debris of dirt and grass, she brushed her tights off and picked up her cassette player. “You’ve got a shower in your room, right? It’s pretty warm out here, and we’ve worked up quite the sweat. I’m sure you want to wash off.” 

“Oh, yeah,” Ziri said, nodding. “But my mom’s sleeping in our room, so I’ll probably use the outdoor shower by the pool.” 

“Pfft.” Penpa shook her head. “Come on, you can use our shower if you want. My sister and I share a room next to my parents, but they’re away for a few days on our sailer. That way you can actually undress and get clean,” 

“Sure, let me just grab some clothes from my room,” Ziri said, nodding. “Thank you.” 

Penpa nodded and started walking with him toward the rooms as the grass spirits dispersed. They began their nightly song, chirping to the notes of grass blades rubbing against each other like strings. The late summer sun turned the sky red as it dipped low, half-hidden by the horizon beyond the roadside motel. 

“I’ll wait here,” Penpa said, stopping at her door as they walked toward Ziri’s room. He noticed the number three beside her as she leaned against the doorframe, holding her pink headphones and her gray cassette player in one hand. “Just come on in when you’re ready. I’ll get the shower started for you.” 

Her hospitality exceeded Ziri’s expectations, but he appreciated it. He bowed to her out of respect and gratitude. She returned the bow with a smile and went inside as he finished the trek to his room. 

His mother was asleep, snoring as he closed the door behind him. He’d thrown his shirt over his shoulder, and he draped it over the chair to let it dry. The room hung in stasis, the dry smell of old air joined the electric hum of the slow overhead fan to create a warm, lazy atmosphere. A stiff but clean bed beckoned, but he needed to cleanse the sweat from his body and cool off from his game. 

He drank most of the water from the thermos on the table. The day’s heat had long since warmed it, but it washed cooly over his tongue as he drank it. He caught his breath, set the thermos down, and scrawled a quick note to his mother on the motel stationery from the desk. 

“Made a friend playing Cuju, be back soon.” 

He had no reason to tell his mother that his friend was a young woman one year older than him. He was an adult now and could make friends—or more than friends—as he wished. There had been a spark of something between him and Penpa. Curiosity? Perhaps. A mixture of pleasant sensations washed over him as he thought of her, and even more pleasurable sensations joined them as he recalled her breasts. 

Resolved, he unzipped his suitcase as carefully as he could. He stopped three-quarters of the way around. The old metal zipper tended to stick at the back curve. Still, he managed to dig through and pull out a bundle of clean clothes: unders, canvas shorts, and a plain gray cotton shirt. 

He also grabbed a towel, so as not to impose on Penpa more than necessary. He had enough familiarity to know that culturally, the Tengeriin nomads were very generous and hospitable. In the desert, hospitality was a matter of survival and was often considered a sacred act. Of course, no two tribes were identical in values and customs, and family units showed further distinctions, but overall, hospitality was a common mandate. 

That’s all this was, right? Penpa offered him a place to clean up, as he’d risk waking his mother if he showered in their room. He’d shower, thank her for her hospitality, and return to the room. He had no reason to believe that she meant anything suggestive by inviting him to use her shower. Only hope. 

He closed and locked the door behind him, turning the key as softly as possible so that he didn’t wake his mother. Lo continued her dreaming, gentle and repetitive snores rising from her with every shallow rise and fall of her chest.

Ziri had to stop himself from rushing forward and approached door number three with a quick but steady pace. Shirtless, he carried his bundle of clothes under his arm, as if he were going to the pool. He knocked on the door, rapping his knuckles on it three times before it swung open. 

Ziri peered inside, crossing the threshold cautiously. The room was more of a suite than his and his mother's, but that made sense. It was really two adjoining bedrooms with a shared bathroom. Two large beds in this room stared at him, one obviously Penpa’s with a poster of the Minstrels above the headboard and a few medals on the wall. She'd placed first multiple times in the Tengeriin regional wind artistry competitions. The other bed remained plain and undecorated. The bathroom, however, was easily four times as large as the closet-sized bathroom in his room. 

Penpa shut the door behind him, eying his back before he turned around to see her. She kept her hand on the doorknob, locking it, leaning back with one foot on the door, her leg bent as his eyes rose from her planted foot, up her bare leg, and stopped. 

She wore a grin and her tattoos. “Mind if I join you in that shower?” Her naked body made Ziri’s brain go empty. Tight muscles flowed through her torso, accentuated with soft, full breasts and curved hips below her tight and narrow waist. Long legs parted to show him full lips, puffy and hairless, parting with arousal as her eyes roamed his torso.  

Ziri’s face blushed hot enough to cook dinner, and he stuttered through several attempts at a response before abandoning the attempt and nodding so hard it formed a bow.  

“Oh yeah, you’re gonna do great at college,” Penpa said, eyeing him. “Cute face, easy to fluster, good body, respectful… you’ll have them eating out of your hand in no time.”

Ziri could barely lift his eyes from her naked groin, and when he did, his eyes snagged on her breasts. Her nipples were sharp pink points in the center of two perfect circles, each at the peak of her full, round breasts. 

Penpa stepped forward one long, lithe leg at a time. She placed one hand on his shoulder, and Ziri lifted his gaze to meet hers. Her eyes smiled at him, and her lips parted as she stretched her neck and kissed him square on the lips. 

Kissing wasn’t anything new to Ziri, but the way Penpa did it was enough to make his toes curl. His body trembled as the blush spread from his face through his neck to his chest. Penpa ran her hands over his shoulders and arms as they kissed, squeezing his biceps and holding onto him as he wrapped his arms around her. 

Pulling her into his embrace, Penpa leaned into him, her confident kiss turning passionate as they tilted their heads in opposite directions, breathing, kissing, and letting their tongues spar. Much like their cuju game, the match proved spirited. 

Penpa wrapped her arms over his shoulders, hooking her arms behind his neck and jumping up. Ziri caught her despite his surprise, taking one foot behind him to kickstand his stance and support her weight in his arms as she wrapped her legs around his waist. 

The heat from between her thighs soaked into his rigid abs, and she mewled her pleasure into the kiss. Both of them were still hot and sweaty, but neither seemed to care. They made out for what seemed like an eternity, until Ziri couldn’t take it any longer. 

“If I don’t get these pants off, I’m going to tear through them,” Ziri said, breaking the kiss for air at last. 

“Shower’s in there,” Penpa said, pointing behind him to the bathroom door. She released her legs from around his lower torso and planted them on the ground. Ziri had tossed the bundle of clean clothes on the bed, a mistake he wagered, but he left his dirty ones on the floor. His jeans and unders hit the soft carpet with a thud, and Penpa’s smile grew with him. 

“Come on,” Penpa said, grabbing his dick and pulling him by it toward the bathroom. 

The walk was awkward, but he followed quickly as Penpa laughed, releasing him and letting him chase her into the bathroom. 

The shower was nicer than the one in his room. White tile lined the walls with a black trim line covering all but the mirror on the left as he entered. The door opposite the door they came in was closed and locked. Penpa shut the door they came through, and past the toilet to turn on the shower. 

Ziri admired her backside, the two pert cheeks at the top of her legs hanging over the back of her thighs with a stark crease between them. 

“You’re so hot,” Ziri said, not realizing he’d said it aloud. 

Penpa looked over her shoulder at him and smiled. She crossed her ankles and bent at the waist as she thrust her arm into the shower and turned on the water. 

“You’re pretty hot yourself,” Penpa said. “Don’t think I do this all the time,” She warned. “I’m not usually this kinda girl, but I promised myself I’d be more adventurous this year at Wenyu, and, well, you seemed like a good place to start.” She straightened, but Ziri’s eyes remained on her backside until she turned around. 

“I was wondering what made me so lucky, or if I was dreaming,” Ziri said. “I’m afraid any minute now I’ll wake up and realize I’m in the passenger seat, still traveling through the desert.” 

“Are you telling me I’m your dream girl?” Penpa asked, teasing as she pulled him toward the shower. 

Ziri followed her under the water. The spray was lukewarm, neither hot nor cold, but it felt great against the heat of his skin. The rectangular shower was a tile floor with a drain, tile walls, and a plastic tarp that hung from a bar suspended between the walls. The yellow bulb behind fogged glass illuminated the room from above, allowing him to see everything Penpa displayed as she twisted and turned, dancing under the spray. 

Ziri switched places with her, their bodies rubbing against each other as they slid to switch. The water washed his sweat away, and relief struck him like popping an ice cube in his mouth on a sunny day. He rinsed his hair, too, shuffling his fingers through his follicles. 

Penpa watched him, biting her lip as she propped one foot on the edge of the tub.

Ziri opened his eyes to see her and licked his lips as he stepped out of the spray. He reached past her, planting his hand against the tile wall behind her. He kissed her this time, propelled by her eager anticipation and leading approach. He let his other hand wander her body, caressing her as she shuddered with goosebumps.

Her nipple was stiff against his palm as he cupped her breast, squeezing from the underside hard enough to elicit a gasp in their tongue-dancing kiss. She moaned her approval as his hand abandoned her breast to traverse her rigid abs, tight waist, and smooth pelvis. Her tribal tattoos covered her limbs, winding their way along her skin on a ribbon of twisting air. A wind artist indeed. He assumed that each symbol, character, and location had a particular meaning, but he was too distracted to ask. 

He let his thumb and fingers explore between her legs. She rocked her hips forward, pressing against his hand as they kissed. She moaned as he slipped the tip of his finger between her folds, curling it toward him until he found his quarry. She was wet and slick between her legs, even as the water behind them increased the humidity and droplets formed on their bodies and the shower curtain. 

He slipped a finger inside her, and she moaned into the kiss with a high-pitched noise she hadn’t made before. The sound made him grin, and he took his finger out and pressed it in again. She repeated the noise, this time with narrowing eyes. 

Ziri kept the motion going, rubbing against him as he fucked her with his finger. She was tight, but wet enough that one finger met no real resistance as it explored her. The hardest resistance was her grinding against his hand, and moaning into their kiss until she gasped for air and tilted her head back. Ziri took the opportunity to kiss her neck, nipping her with his teeth just enough to make her twitch. 

Patting his torso, she had her left hand on his right shoulder, not stopping him from fingering her, but feeling his muscles flex beneath her palm as he did so. Meanwhile, her right hand sought out his length, holding it firmly in her grasp, then pumping. 

Ziri closed his eyes, reveling in the pleasure of her working her hand over his shaft, twisting and pulling his release out of him in a tight squeeze. His fingers tensed against the tile behind her until they pushed his palm away. His hand against the wall became a gnarled claw. His finger inside her became two, his middle and ring fingers working together as she ground her clit against the calloused top of his palm.  

“Oh,” She said, squeezing his dick and clinging to him as her insides shivered. Penpa squeezed her legs around his hand, trapping his fingers inside her and pressing his palm fiercely against her as she ground her hips forward, tilted her head back, and came. 

The noise she made and the shaking caused her hand wrapped around his cock to jerk and shake, shocking his orgasm out of him with a grunt as he fired against her wet skin. Several quick spurts of cum blasted against her as she twitched, still holding him inside her. 

They pressed against each other as they relaxed toward themselves, and both released the other. Penpa wrapped her arms around him, holding onto him for support. Ziri caught himself against the wall, catching his breath and reveling in the euphoric bliss blanketing his body after his release. 

A minute passed as they collected themselves, then two. 

Penpa chuckled. “We should probably wash off, and then… have you eaten?”

“Not since lunch,” Ziri said, knowing it was well past dinner time. 

“Stay for dinner?” Penpa asked. 

“Sure,” Ziri said. “I don’t want to impose, but if you’re offering…” 

Penpa blushed. “Well, I figure we can have another round while I cook. I hope you like noodles.” 

Ziri chuckled. “Yeah, count me in,” 

Penpa gave him a sly, seductive look as she offered him the soap. He took it from her, and they got down to business.