Sarala was worried that the remaining month of summer would pass by as slowly as it did at Jabali’s house. But after Zyn complained of being bored over and over, Ak-tu settled on teaching the three teens martial arts—which definitely kept them busy. He even followed their own martial arts club schedule (Kung Fu on Moonday and Trizday, Tai Chi on Waddaday and Thorsday, and combatives on Freday and Saterday). 

The kids were happy to progress with their own level of material again, but that wasn’t the only thing they’d learn. Ak-tu incorporated other exercises into the classes, like holding a square stance back-to-back while passing a kicking shield to each other, or jumping from one crane stance to another. But they also had to do a lot of non-martial arts exercises to build their endurance. This included lunges, squats, sit-ups in which they passed a heavy rock to one another, and pleasant valleys.

“What’s a pleasant valley?” Sarala asked when Ak-tu mentioned it.

Ak-tu grinned and ordered, “Sit on the ground.”

Sarala sat down at once. 

“Move your legs like you’re biking through a valley.”

Sarala did so, off-balance without using her arms.

“Now use your hands to pick cherries.”

Frowning, Sarala placed her arms in front of her and groped blindly in the air.

“Now put the cherries in your backpack behind you,” Ak-tu instructed.

“In my backpack?” Sarala scoffed.

“Your pretend backpack. You gotta put them somewhere!”

Sarala then proceeded to throw the pretend cherries in the pretend backpack behind her. But Ak-tu was not pleased.

“Don’t throw them everywhere! You have to put them directly in your backpack. And keep your legs moving, otherwise you’ll fall off your bike!”

Needless to say, the pleasant valleys were not pleasant in the slightest. But Zyn continued to laugh at the name and would often request to do the exercise, until it became known as the “Zyn special” (which would make Sarala groan each time).

The teens also learned to hold gear for one another, to practice for when they’d be using mitts and bags in their future club. The bag work drills were much like the regular group classes, as the students had to put together combinations of self-defense techniques. 

One time, Zyn had been holding a kicking shield for Sarala. She slammed her foot into the bag so hard, that Zyn was sent flying off the mat of the Kung Fu Studio. 

“Are you okay?” Sarala called as they almost hit the wall. 

Zyn appeared more confused than hurt, then they grinned. “That was fun! Do it again!”

Sarala scowled in response when they’d rushed back to be sent flying away once more.

The combatives seemed to be the teens’ favorite classes, not only to engage in, but also to practice teaching one another. Just like during the school year, Ak-tu had them switching between kickboxing and grappling. But now that Zyn and Ren were blue sashes, they were allowed to do weapon sparring with Sarala as well. They spent at least thirty minutes on each combative, if not more.

Working on plenty of combinations in kickboxing, they struck directly to one another, something the students were much more accustomed to than bag-holding. They only did a few combination drills before doing plenty of matches, some matches as offense-defense or working on specific details like speed.

“You’ll want to use more kicks in your kickboxing!” Ak-tu continuously instructed them. “Use the power thrust! Use the heel thrust! Use any thrusting kick to shove them back.”

Sarala had been the only one to heed his words. She had the power thrust kick under her command, smashing her heel into Zyn and Ren whenever they tried to come close. Zyn wasn’t entirely defenseless though, and soon began waiting for Sarala to close the distance. Zyn would then throw a front leg snap kick to intercept her approach, before landing hand strikes. Ren, meanwhile, used a variety of kicks but hadn’t settled on a particular one, more accustomed to throwing hand strikes instead.

Grappling was certainly complex with the various arm bars, chokes, and positions. Ren was better than the other two when it came to ground fighting. She was able to understand the concepts and feel her opponents’ bodies easily, whereas Sarala mostly relied on instinct until she landed in the perfect position to choke or arm bar her partner. Zyn, meanwhile, only seemed to rely on instinct, not grasping the concepts.

Zyn fared better in weapon sparring, though. They were quicker than Ren or Sarala, and the one-minute matches relied mostly on speed for success.

“Are we ever going to weapon spar with something other than sticks?” Ren asked curiously after one class.

“At the higher levels,” Ak-tu replied. “You start off with stick fighting one another, then we bring in other weapons. After all, there’s a two-person staff form at the brown sash level, and there are plenty of two-person weapon forms after you get your black. We even have an umbrella versus bench form!”

“You get to hurl a bench around?” Zyn asked in awe.

“Not anytime soon! Thank the spirits,” Ak-tu added in an undertone.

While the teens were making good progress with their Kung Fu and combative classes, Tai Chi was another matter. Ak-tu had been teaching Sarala Kung Fu while Khurshid taught the twins, but the teachers switched students when it came to Tai Chi. After all, Sarala had no knowledge of Tai Chi, and seemed reluctant to learn the slow art. Ak-tu therefore spent the Tai Chi class focused on the twins, trying to correct their postures and empty-full footwork as they began the sword form.

By the time September finally rolled around, the three teens had learned most of their current-level material and were confident they’d be able to teach for the martial arts club. 

The trio was currently putting their weapon sparring gear away, finished with another day of hard training. Ak-tu nodded in approval as they wiped down the gear.

“Make sure you stretch after!” he said.

Zyn sighed, collapsing to the orange mat in a butterfly pose. “Why do we always have to stretch after class? I just want to drink as much water as possible!”

Sarala snorted, sitting down as well. “Maybe if you drank more throughout classes, you wouldn’t be so thirsty.”

“I don’t like to feel water jumping around in my stomach, thanks,” Zyn retorted.

Khurshid nudged Ak-tu playfully; the two stood near the door, as if they wouldn’t let the kids leave without stretching first. “Looks like they take after you there!”

Ak-tu scowled. “I drink water when I train!”

Khurshid chuckled. “Sure you do. A drip doesn’t count as a drink, you know.”

Ak-tu rolled his eyes, then answered Zyn. “Stretching allows the muscles to relax, so your body isn’t so sore after a hard workout. Not to mention, it builds your flexibility. In fact…want to see something cool? Come here, Zyn!”

Zyn got to their feet after a small hesitation. Sarala and Ren exchanged a glance, relieved that neither of them had been chosen. Whenever Ak-tu asked the students if they wanted to see something cool, he would show off a technique with rapid speed and harsh power. Sarala had been jabbed in the throat with a crane beak strike, while Ren had been choked out with Ak-tu’s knees.

“Kick me,” Ak-tu ordered Zyn.

Zyn threw a snap kick at Ak-tu’s chest, attempting to hit him with the ball of their foot. Ak-tu remained calm the entire time. He simply caught Zyn’s leg in the air before they could pull their leg back in a tight crane. In one smooth action, Ak-tu tugged Zyn’s leg towards him to extend their leg, then shoved their leg back at them. 

Ren gasped as Zyn was thrown to the ground, their foot somehow coming out of their shoe in the process and the air knocked out of them. They sat for a moment in dazed confusion. Ak-tu stood above them, beaming. Zyn shot a glare at their father, then snorted in laughter. Ren lowered her hands from her mouth as she realized that Zyn was okay.

“That’s how you throw people to the ground,” Ak-tu said in a light-hearted tone, holding his hand out to help Zyn to their feet. “And that’s why you’ll want to make sure you’re stretching, so your legs are strong and swift and flexible—instead of being sore and getting caught!”

Zyn ignored their father’s hand as they shifted back into the butterfly pose. “That’s not allowed in kickboxing, is it?”

Ak-tu shook his head. “Leg catches are most definitely not allowed in our type of sparring… But that doesn’t mean we can’t practice them! You never know when you might need to use it, after all.”

Sarala frowned. “Mr. Caihong?”

“Yes, Sarala?”

“When would we use this technique?” she inquired, her voice coming out harsher than she’d intended. “When would we use a majority of the stuff you’re teaching us?”

Ak-tu frowned at her, playing with one strand of his mustache. Before he could reply, she continued.

“I mean, you’re supposed to teach us how to fight spirits, not humans. Right? Isn’t Chaocat a cat? How is any of this stuff supposed to work on something like that?” she asked skeptically.

Ak-tu was quiet for a moment, then said, “I don’t know much when it comes to fighting spirits. Each spirit has different abilities… It will depend on the spirit and your knowledge of said spirit. I can’t teach you how to fight spirits, nor do I want you to try.

“But that doesn’t mean I won’t pass on my martial arts knowledge to each of you,” he said firmly. “Just because I don’t want you to initiate an attack on a spirit, doesn’t mean they won’t attack you. You need to be ready, whether it’s a spirit or a human that comes for you. Besides, some spirits are human-like or have human forms. Chaocat is not one of them, unfortunately.” He sighed. “I have to teach you something with them around. Martial arts is what I know, and it can still be effective against spirits. Not to mention—it trains your balance, speed, reaction time, power… So that’s what I’ll teach you.”

“How about teaching us magic?” Zyn asked eagerly. “We can fight spirits with magic, can’t we? At least—we’d probably be able to do something more with magic than martial arts!”

“You still don’t have your magic, Zyn,” Ak-tu pointed out. “I chose to teach you three martial arts this past month because you lack magic.”

“But why can’t me and Ren learn magic?” Sarala queried brusquely. “I love learning martial arts—don’t get me wrong—but if you’re trying to prepare us for facing Chaocat one day, we ought to learn more magic and strategies specific to fighting them.”

“It wouldn’t be fair to Zyn to teach you magic and not them. Plus, I don’t want you fighting Chaocat if it can be avoided. My knowledge of Chaocat is likely inaccurate now too. They aren’t the same spirit I remember…” His eyes glazed over as he murmured, “Most of my memories of them…they were my friend, not my enemy…. And the fight we had…I can’t seem to remember much of…”

“Why don’t you remember?” Ren asked curiously. 

“Were you injured?” Sarala questioned. “Did you suffer a blow to the head?”

Ak-tu reached a hand up to the back edge of his head and frowned. “Probably…”

“Do you remember anything from the fight with them?” Sarala pressed, leaning forward as she shifted into a snake stretch, the twins swiftly following her lead. “What sort of strategies did they use? What was their main attack? How did you defend against them?” 

“Enough questions,” Khurshid said briskly before Ak-tu could reply. “Your father can’t remember.” 

Sarala snorted. “He’s not my father,” she uttered under her breath, just loud enough for Ren to hear beside her.

“Khurshid is right,” Ak-tu murmured, his tone disappointed. “I cannot remember any details… I’m sorry. I’m going to get dinner started. You kids finish stretching before you come to the Eating Hall.”

Ak-tu then turned on the balls of his feet and left the room, Khurshid following. Cool wind swept over the teens, feeling nice on Sarala’s sweaty skin; however, it barely lasted as hot air streamed inside. Sighing, she arched her back.