[Exemplarism Path discovered!]

[Skill - Mimic Beast obtained!]

Ryan woke up to those words when he was thirteen and was confused. He thought he had a Path but … he wasn’t sure? He couldn’t even pronounce it right the first time he tried to say it and practiced on his way down to breakfast.

“Whatchya’ mumbling there, champ?” his father asked from the stove.

“Ex-em-plar-is-m,” Ryan said while he sat down. Then he smiled because he’d finally done it right.

“What’s that? A new word you learned in the classroom?”

“You don’t know?”

“Never heard of it. Is it like the main word for exemplary?”

“No,” Ryan said and frowned because he was sure of it. He just didn’t know why he was sure of it. “It isn’t.”

“What isn’t?” his mother asked just then. She came in holding a basket of clothes and kissed her husband walking by. On the mouth. Ew. Ryan looked away. Still, he repeated the word in his mind. Then he stopped because he realized he wouldn’t ever forget.

“It's my Path,” Ryan said.

His mother dropped her basket and gasped. His father spun around.

“What? Did you find your Path already?”

“Yeah,” Ryan said. “[Exemplarism Path].”

“What’s that?” his mother asked excitedly. She turned to her husband.

“No idea,” he said.

“Oh. Then, uhm, Ryan?” She crouched down next to him, all excitement and smiles. Getting your Path was supposed to be a Big Deal. Then why did Ryan just feel confused? He felt like there was something he was missing here. “Sweetie, do you know what it means?”

“I think I do. I had a weird dream and I saw … pictures?”

He remembered seeing the world as if it were made up of pictures, but in some places, those pictures overlapped with one another. Where they did, their colors blended. Ryan was really interested in the places where a bunch of different ones blended. He felt like anything could happen there.

“A lot of Paths see pictures during meditation,” his father said. "Was there anything else?

“Oh.”

So it wasn't about the pictures, then?

"Uhm, no," Ryan said.

“Did you get a Skill?” his mother asked and all the sudden, Ryan remembered that he had. She must have seen something on his face because she frowned and spoke more softly. “Ryan? Can you tell us what your Skill is?”

Ryan shook his head a little with a deep frown. [Mimic Beast]? What did that even mean? Like, their behavior? Or maybe their appearance? No. He didn't want that. He didn't want to look like a Northerner. He could wait until he got another Skill, one that was more likely to make his parents proud. If he didn’t tell them, he might forget about it. It might go away. Could you lose Skills?

“Hey, It’s alright," his mother said. "You know you can tell us anything. It's your first Skill. That's supposed to be something special."

Ryan didn't feel like he could tell them or that is was something special. He did feel like running upstairs and barricading himself in his room, but he was thirteen now, practically an adult. He couldn’t do that anymore. So he took a deep breath and just said it.

“[Mimic Beast]."

"What?" his father asked. "Are you sure?"

Ryan nodded.

His parents looked at each other. They seemed confused, so Ryan thought they must be thinking the same things he had. He'd screwed up.

Then his mom frowned at him, looked at the ceiling, patted him on the head and left.

“Just a second,” she said as she walked out the back.

“Mom?” Ryan called after her. Even his dad walked to the door to check on her. Was she upset? Disappointed? Why was she leaving?

She walked back in holding a cat. The neighbor’s cat.

She held it away from herself, both hands clutched around its chest, and it meowed in confusion, its legs dangling far below.

“Maybe you can, uhm, mimic it?" she said. "It’s worth a try."

“How do I ...?” Ryan looked from one parent to another.

His dad put the skillet off the stove and sat down opposite him.

“It depends on the Skill, kid. Sometimes you just need to act natural. Other times, you need to think really hard about the Skill and it will work on its own. And some Skills, you have to do certain things for it to work, like punching something or swinging a sword.”

“Or playing an instrument,” his mother offered.

“Try thinking for now,” his father said.

Ryan turned back to the meowing cat and did just that. [Mimic Beast], he thought over and over again, but nothing happened. The cat grew restless, squirming in his mother’s hands. He shook his head in frustration.

“It’s alright,” she said as she put the cat down. Immediately, it yowled and fled out the back. “Just act normal today. Maybe watch some animals during break. Your father and I will go find a school after work to ask about your Path there, alright?”

“Alright ...” Ryan mumbled.

When Ryan got home that day, his parents were already gone again. They left a note saying they would be back soon and that his mother had locked the neighbor’s cat in his bedroom. If maybe he wanted to try copying it again?

Ryan let the cat out and it almost tumbled down the stairs in its haste to escape. He walked over to his window and rested his chin on the sill as he watched it jump the fence. For a while, nothing happened. Later he saw it again, climbing a tree to try and catch a bird. The birds just flew away and found other places to sit, tweeting like it was a normal day.

His mind fell asleep while he watched them, waiting for his parents to come home. It was almost dark by the time they did. They called up worriedly as they climbed the stairs. Ryan snapped out of his daydream and sat upright, watching the door. What had they learned?

“Ryan?” his mother asked, knocking softly on the door. “Do you have a bird in here?”

“Huh? Uh, no?”

“Oh, I thought … We heard bird noises.”

Ryan whistled a shrug and looked down, twiddling his thumbs.

“So, uhm …” he mumbled. “What did the teachers say?”

When he looked back up, his mom stood frozen, mouth halfway to a smile and eyebrows shot up.

“What?” Ryan asked.

“Do that again,” she said.

“What?”

“The bird noises! You … didn’t you notice?”

Ryan frowned. “No?”

“But you did, try again.”

When was he supposed to have made bird noises? How was he supposed to have made bird noises? He briefly thought of the sparrows sitting on the thin branches of the neighbor’s trees, hopping around one another and chirping.

Actually, now that he considered them, he could imagine them pretty well. It was almost a painting in his mind, but it moved. Like a slice of life on eternal repeat. As Ryan thought about it like that, the little birds became less feather and beak and more oil and canvas. The sky flowed its way into a frame around the picture. Branches broke their way through, separating glass panes. The birds in the painting flowed from scene to scene, some moving as whole panes of their own, pushing away the ones around them, some as canvas and hopping them, their colors flowing free. All of them were chirping.

[Skill - Bird Singing obtained!]

The voice broke Ryan out of his reverie. His eyes widened and he looked at his mother. She was leaning against the doorframe now—hadn’t she been standing?—a knowing smile on her face. His father had one hand on her shoulder and looked proud.

“I got a Skill!” Ryan said and shot up. And it isn't a horrible one.

“We know. What is it?”

“[Bird Singing],” he said and chirped smugly. His parents laughed in surprise.