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While that was happening on one side of the village, a group of kids surrounded a girl child—all giggling together near the age-old tree, on the outskirts of the village; on the very other side of the village. “You can't do it! You're too afraid,” exclaimed the children to the girl.

“Mika’s too chicken.” The deep blue eyes of a nine-year-old girl shone, with her long black hair wavering to the winds. Her face flushed to the surrounded children’s giggles, their voices encircling her like a swarm of bees prickling her skin.

“I’m not afraid,” the little girl roared back, her face tensed up. She swung her hands around to stop the children’s laughter. “I can do anything!”

“Oh look, we hurt her ego,” the children chuckled. Mika clenched her fists, stomped the ground and humphed loudly. She couldn’t take that, but her mom warned her not to climb. But her mom also told her to never turn back and hope for the best. What should she do now? They nudged her towards the tree. Sighing at the situation, she started climbing. I sure hope for the best. She thought.

The tree was enormous and majestic, its bark was flaky, yet the insides appeared to be in good shape. Branches were broad with omnipresent aromatic smelling flowers and bright green foliage. It felt like she was crawling over a tower, spearing through the clouds.

“Isn’t she afraid of heights?” Murmured the children among themselves. All they could do was look up at her as she dragged herself through the branches with shivering limbs.

As she got higher and higher, it felt breezy, the sense of height stiffened her legs and arms, but she braved through, powered by the silence of the kids that jeered at her when she started until she reached the top. But she did not dare look down. Her focus soared as she minded her grip on a nearby branch. “See?”

She relished their silence, trying her best not to look down as her lips trembled. “I—I—can do anything!”

“Get out of here, kids! And you, get yourself out of the tree right now,” a voice echoed behind the group of kids, followed by their cries, they scrambled away. What is happening? Her curiosity took the best of her and she looked down. Only to find herself dizzy and slipping down the branch.

The ground beneath her twisted into a downward spiral that sucked the soul from her body and churned her stomach. Her vision blurred and her balance disoriented, desperate to catch her breath. She collapsed down on the ground and noticed someone approaching her with her half-closed eyes. Struggling to recognise who, she squinted. “Sensei?”

Mika shot her eyes open, covered in cold sweat and gasping. She was in a different place. She glared around; candles illuminated the room. It looked familiar. She clenched her fists, but her face softened at a wall of little kids standing near the cot that she was on, staring at her, looking so concerned as they nudged her.

“Mika, why did you skip class today? Sensei's been furious with you,” one of them said.

All of it made sense to her now. “Today is the competition to find the best prodigy,” another kid noted.

THAT’S TODAY? She started sweating, her heart pounded faster, yet she smiled, killing their panic. A few kids murmured, looking at her still, but she tilted her head, letting her long black hair fall to her shoulders; she patted their heads. It gave them a little peace that welled in Mika’s heart, but was cut short when the children crowding her gave way to their Sensei.

“Get up Mika, you have something important to attend to,” he commanded.

I’m so done! The best prodigy gets recommended in the army selection. How did I forget something so important? She nodded, noticing how softly Sensei spoke. Maybe he will let this slide and let me fight? She quickly jolted off the cot and followed his lead with the children in tow, contrasting their carefree glances with her focused glare, to their thinned naïve limbs, to her well-defined and practice-hardened body. She was nervous, yet felt great.

Confidence was not what you show, but what you didn’t show, and she believed it with all her heart and hid her anxiety. Her strong posture showed her confidence, clasping her hands behind her back. Somehow, it still felt like it was her day. She didn’t appear to be shaken, so she lowered her gaze, facing forward, grinning as she exited the room and walked into the bright outside, it was the crowded training grounds outside. All eyes were on them.

She was glad that she steeled her expression. The students sat on dry, grainy sand, surrounding an elevated circular ring that currently had two combatants fighting with wooden weapons. They cheered at their exchange, even more so for one combatant—a calm, calculating, respectful boy of similar age as Mika. In one swift move, he disarmed the other combatant with his weapon, a significance of displaying his mastery. The students roared in his favour, sounding almost like a thunderclap. Another combatant entered the ring, overwhelmed to fight him.

She sat down on the warm sand, cross-legged. This boy, Arai, was her childhood friend, and also was her heaviest obstacle between her and the sweet title of best student. She scoffed, propping her face with her palm, exchanging a smile with him in the middle of his fight, which soon ended the same as the last. The students applauded Arai’s victory.

“With that battle, Arai defeated every student. Earning the ‘Best Student’ title,” declared another older student, who took the role of the referee.

"Wait! There's someone left... Arai with fight Mika to earn the title," interrupted Sensei. His eyes narrowed at her while he sat down on his chair with his legs crossed. She sighed and avoided eye contact. Tck! She thought.