Zira was awakened by the sound of people bustling outside her room. A knock on the door made her sit up.
"Who is it?"
"Morning," a familiar male voice called. "Time to get up." She swung her legs out of bed, rubbed her eyes, and answered the door. Stephen was standing there, already dressed and ready. Zira took a deep breath and stretched. Finally looking out the window showed that it was still dark out
"What time is it?" she asked.
"4 AM," he answered. Zira groaned. She had completely forgotten about jet lag since the journey had been via portal. She was groggy, cranky, and someone she still wasn't ready to be friendly with was standing at her door. "Don't worry, you get to meditate first."
"Meditate? What? What about breakfast?"
"Breakfast after," Stephen said. "Get dressed and head to the main courtyard. You have 10 minutes." With that, he walked away. Zira groaned again and hurried up to get dressed. She braided her hair as she walked to class, tying it in place with a leather cord. She wasn't ready to be the last one in the class, so that made her feel super awkward. Everyone else was sitting down on mats, and their instructor was smiling at her as she entered the courtyard.
"Welcome, Zira," the instructor said. "Please take a seat." Without a word, she grabbed a mat and found a seat. Thankfully, she found Isioma and sat near her, her new friend giving her an encouraging smile as she sat down.
Their instructor was a Buddhist monk that introduced himself as Bhikku. Isioma explained that this was the word for a Buddhist monk. He wasn't a practitioner of the mystic arts like the rest of the people at Kamar Taj, but he was a master of meditation, and that was something that the former Sorcerer Supreme thought was extremely important, and that Stephen agreed with.
Bhikku was a very serene man. His head was shaved per his religious practice, and he was dressed in the traditional orange and red monk robes. As Zira got settled, he walked them through a guided meditation. Zira had the worst time concentrating as he talked. She wasn't able to shut her mind off to concentrate on what Bhikku was saying.
It must have shown in her face because halfway through class, she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder. She looked up and saw Bhikku looking at her.
"Breathe," he said quietly. Zira nodded, closed her eyes, and focused on her breath. It somehow got easier the more she did it. Out of seemingly nowhere, there was a gentle ding. Ziras eyes opened to see Bhikku standing next to a brass bowl with a thick mallet in his hand.
"Thank you," Bhikku said. "You are excused." Zira got up and went to put her mat away when she heard her name. She turned and saw the monk looking at her. He gestured for her to come closer. Zira braced herself to be scolded for not doing well in the class. "You've never meditated before, yes?"
"Never," she said. "I know I won't get it the first time, but it's discouraging." Bhikku nodded and smiled.
"All struggle with meditation at first, Zira," he said. "You must practice, as with anything." Zira nodded, bowed, and left for breakfast. Isioma was waiting for her when she arrived.
"What did he want?"
"He told me that I just need to practice since I struggled," Zira answered, grabbing a mug of tea.
"I struggled with it, too," Isioma commented as she grabbed a piece of fruit. "It does get easier as you go." They found a place to sit down and started eating.
"What I would not give for a cup of coffee right now," Zira groaned, rubbing her eyes again. Isioma laughed, making Zira smile.
"May I ask you something, Zira?" Isioma said. Zira nodded. "What was New York like?" she asked. Zira took another swig of tea.
"Busy," she answered. "Loud. Bright. So much going on at once. I didn't get to see a whole lot of it."
"Why not?"
"I was orphaned at 5. I lived in West Chester at Xaviers from then until yesterday. We went out on field trips and stuff, and I did help on some missions, but I never really got to go out and experience it on my own," Zira said. It was a little sobering to think about something like that, but it was still nice to have someone to talk to about how her life was.
"What happened to your parents?" Isioma asked quietly, a look in her eyes giving Zira an out if she didn't want to answer.
"I don't know who my father is," Zira admitted. "Mom never talked about him. She died of a brain aneurysm. Losing her made me lose control of my powers. I almost destroyed the hospital in my anger, and it caused all of this." She pointed to her silver hair and eyes. "I can't say that my life is exciting. But what about you? You said Kebbi, Nigeria?"
"Argungu specifically," she replied. "Do you know where that is?" Zira shook her head. "It's in Northern Nigeria. I was sent to Kamar Taj when I was 5 as well. My mother wanted me to use my God-given talents." Ziras silver eyes went to the hijab.
"You're a muslim?" she asked.
"Yes. Most of the people in my country follow Islam. I was glad that I did not have to leave that behind when I left. There are quite a few of us here,' Isioma said, motioning to a few other students. One had the face covering as well as the hijab, and two were men.
"What's the face covering called?"
"It is a niqab," Isioma replied. "The full burka does not lend itself well to sparring, but Tahira still wishes to cover as much as possible. She fights well with it on." Zira marveled at the mental image of the girl whirling through the air and throwing a punch, then returned to reality. "You should join us for a prayer sometime if you would like to learn."
"Thank you, but I don't have a whole lot of faith in Gods of any kind," Zira replied, trying to sound kind. Isioma did not fail to hear the bitter tone in her new friends voice.
"Because of your mother?" she asked gently. Zira merely nodded. Isioma sat silent for a moment, took a drink of juice, and looked back at her friend. "What do you have faith in?" Zira pondered that question for a moment. She had never really given thought to faith at all. Religion wasn't a big thing at Xaviers, and she had never had it pushed on her from any student or teacher.
"I...I don't think I have faith in anything. Not even myself," she replied after a moment.
"I have found that faith is best when gained completely. The Quran tells us that nothing should be dearer to a true believer than faith. Maybe, rather than religion, you should start with faith in yourself." Zira pondered her friends words through the rest of breakfast. She had been discouraged with every change of team and every failed attempt during training. The final nail in the coffin had been yesterday, when she got the results telling her that she didn't have any type of mutation. Here, on day one, she had found a friend, been encouraged by a teacher she had never met, and was being told by said friend that it was okay to focus on herself.
...and all without coffee.
A small bell rang signaling the beginning classes. Isioma went to an advanced class while Zira went to her first beginning class with Master Daiyu, a Chinese woman with white hair and a fire in her eyes.
"Stephen mentioned you yesterday," she said to Zira as the girl came into the yard. "He said you were having trouble."
"I've been having trouble my whole life, Master," Zira replied, taking a spot near the back of the class.
"Up here," Daiyu said, pointing to the most prominent spot in front of her. "If you are having trouble, I want you up here." Zira was about to protest, but a severe look from the Chinese lady made her shut her mouth and move. The rest of the class took their places and bowed.
"Today, we continue the conjuration of the Mandala. It is the most basic shield, but when used correctly, it is powerful and can even be used as a weapon." Daiyu waved her hands in a pattern that conjured a small spell circle around her hand. "Someone, where does the power come from?" She pointed to a young man with tan skin and cropped hair two lines back from Zira.
"From within and without, Master," he answered, his accent sounding Mexican.
"Very good," Daiyu said. "Our power comes from within ourselves and from throughout the multiverse. Without a combination of the two, your spell will fizzle and you will most likely be wounded by your opponent. Now, we begin." The next ten minutes, every other student managed some kind of spell circle….except for Zira. She struggled horribly. When Daiyu came to her, the girl was ready to give up. Daiyu corrected her hand placement and gestures, but the orange gold sparks fizzled like crazy. Another five minutes of trying still yielded nothing.
"It's not coming, Master," Zira finally growled. "No matter what I do, it's not coming."
"You know, Stephen Strange struggled as well. His malady was both physical and mental, and he persevered." Zira's eyes flared. The silver in her eyes lit up as she glared at the teacher.
"Don't compare me to him," she snarled. "I'm nothing like him, and I never want to be like him!" She stormed off to a stunned silence from the rest of the class.
I will never be like him. I will be better than he ever was.