Tales of a Ninja Magician: Of What Defines Us

Stea's Plea

Mana saw Stea's eyes linger on and waver. It hit the magician as a little bit odd as she had always taken the young woman as mentally mature and spiritually strong. It was very much unlike Stea to roll something on and around her tongue before speaking it out.

"Your strategy was solid. You didn't waste any time loading the damage seal, you found an opening then exploded on Doma with everything you had – you could have beaten him like that", she uttered.

"I could have but I didn't. My best was not yet enough to keep him down for good, my gamble did not pay off. In the past I used to hold back tremendously in fear for my opponent's life, I would like to say that that was why Doma won but... That was not the case. I no longer disrespect my opponents like that", Mana replied.

"This fighting style of yours, the way you think, how you analyze other people's fighting styles and match the cards in your hand just right... Your flashy techniques... I believe you can beat me if you got stronger, much stronger", Stea admitted, "Not only that, you can beat me in a flashy and impressive enough manner to promote us both. My skills are leagues above those of the other genin but unless I can put up a satisfying match, it will be for naught. Please..."

Mana could not believe what she was seeing shimmering in Stea's eyes. Crystal, wet and genuine tears. This was a pleading cry of a sky soaring dragon. One that required descending beneath the clouds to devour a cow but needed help to do so. Stea was so immensely skilled that in order to impress the Ninja Council and show off all her skills she needed a powerful enough opponent to challenge her, someone to rise to her level.

"I can't do it, Stea. Two and a half weeks have already passed. I cannot match your pace in just half the time I had before. Whatever talent you see in me, it simply is not there. I was always the unimpressive one, really", Mana politely smiled, squirming uncomfortably out of Stea's gentle grip.

"I thought you were a hero. Those things you said in your show, things about human life being magical and wondrous, do they mean nothing to you really"!? Stea shouted out in desperation. "The famine in my village is no longer what it used to be, people do catch what little fish that have returned to our shores, now that the Eight Tails isn't scaring them away, but instead of dying in a month from hunger, they die in three to six months of malnutrition. I need your help to save their lives for good, please"! Stea cried out falling on her knees, Mana turned around, feeling awfully uncomfortable in the position she's been placed in.

She had denounced this life, she had decided to convincingly to leave it all behind and just perform on stage. It looked like this one last time, this one last time she'd need to fight before leaving it all behind but there never was "just one last time". It's a deceitful and despicable trap, just like with "killing just this one time", it's never just "that one time". If Mana agreed, if she promised Stea to beat her the way that Stea wanted to be beaten, not only would Mana accept an unbelievable responsibility on her shoulders to virtually redefine her in just two and a half weeks but she'd also be a hypocrite, she'd end up agreeing to such proposals again and again, every single time after "that one last time".

This won't be just "this one time". Unless she proves here and now that she's quit for good, there'll be another time and another one. She needed to make a statement here and now, just tell Stea now, just shut down her childish hopes of settling her village's problems all by herself. That was not how the world worked!

"Okay. I will beat you in two and a half weeks. I'll match your pace and get both of us promoted. I'll help you save your village", Mana replied with a shaking voice.

Stea's eyes brightened like two newly born stars, like sparks of superheated iron being molded under the gentle care of a skilled blacksmith. The young woman jumped up to her feet and ran up to Mana, grabbing her hand and pressing it against her own chest, caressing it with her cheeks like the magician had just promised something tangible. Something that was possible, which it was not.