The Jin’oshan Boy

Kiva climbed steadily, the sand radiating waves of heat beneath his feet. The desert sun blazed overhead, pounding mercilessly on Kiva’s back.

Absently, he stretched his tail around to wipe away the sweat on his forehead. His hands clenched his staff, supporting his weight as he climbed. He was almost there…

As he reached the top of the sand dune, Kiva was able to see the city of Dar’Alvah spread out in the distance. He sighed, and sat down, gazing at the city below.

Every afternoon he made this climb, and every night he watched, through the long, dark, lonely hours, until the sun began to creep over the horizon. Then, satisfied that it was safe to do so, he would return down the sand dune to his small hut, and rest until it was time to watch over the city once more.

Kiva was a Jin’oshan, and the occupants of Dar’Alvah did not like his kind. That was why they had cast him out of the city when he was still a very small child. His mother, Ashila, was a Dar’Alvan native, with the same pale green skin and vivid blue hair as the other residents of the city. She had told Kiva many stories of his father, a strong, handsome, noble Jin’oshan man named Malik. They had loved each other deeply. But her family would not have approved, so they had kept their relationship hidden. They were secretly married, and had planned to run away and start a new life together. But on the night they were to meet, Kiva’s father had not shown up.

Ashila believed with all her heart that something must have happened to Malik, for he would never had abandoned her intentionally. But she had never heard from him again.

When she realized she was pregnant with Kiva, Ashila worked hard to keep the pregnancy, then the baby, a secret. Kiva was born with distinctive Jin’oshan traits – darkly tanned skin, red eyes, horns, and a long, golden tail. He was the spitting image of his father, and there was no way he could blend in with the Dar’Alvan people.

When he was four, he was discovered by a washerwoman. She had been passing by the tiny cottage where Ashila and Kiva lived, and had heard him singing to himself as he played near an open window. When she looked in and spotted the boy, her scream could be heard from miles around.

An angry crowd of Dar’Alvans surrounded the cottage and demanded that Kiva be banished to the desert. They did not trust the “golden devils,” as they called the Jin’oshan people. “Red eyes are a sign of evil” they would claim, and “no decent person has horns and a tail.”

Ashila tried to convince them of her son’s goodness and innocence, but the people did not want to hear. Kiva simply looked too different, and that scared them. They did not want any “golden devils” in their city.

So, Kiva was banished to the desert. Ashila tried to go with him, but her people held her back. She was, after all, one of them. They wanted to keep her far from the corrupting influence of her terrible monster of a son.

As soon as she was able, however, Ashila crept out of the city and into the desert, where she swept Kiva into her arms and covered him with kisses. She stayed with him every night, and snuck back into the city every morning before anyone could notice her missing.

Over time, they built the little hut at the bottom of the sand dune, so Kiva had a safe place to stay. And as the years passed, it became quite cozy.

But Kiva longed to be around other people. He loved his mother, but he was nearly a man now, and he ached to meet other people his age. He secretly hoped to be able to prove to the people of Dar’Alvah that he was trustworthy, so they might welcome him back with open arms.

Kiva simply wanted to be judged by the contents of his heart, rather than the fierceness of his appearance.

And so, he stood vigil over the city every night while its citizens slept. His mother joined him on the evenings she was able to come, but as she’d gotten older, it had become more difficult for her to sneak away. So, Kiva often watched alone, quietly waiting for an opportunity to prove his worth.

As the sun set and the stars began to appear overhead, Kiva lay down, stretching out in the sand. He gazed at the twinkling lights as they gathered, one by one, in the sky. As the minutes passed, the smattering of stars doubled, tripled, quadrupled in number, until there was a vast horde of shimmering lights dancing through the night sky.

Staring up at a particularly bright congregation of stars, Kiva was startled to notice a sudden shadow. It passed swiftly, heading toward the sleeping city. Kiva tracked its passage, watching stars disappear, then reappear as the shadow crossed their path.

The shadow lowered toward the horizon, settling in the sand on the eastern edge of the city. The dim lights from nearby homes shed just enough light on the shadow that Kiva could finally make out what it was.

Heart racing, Kiva leapt to his feet and ran down the dune toward Dar’Alvah, staff in hand.

As he reached the edge of the city, he began pounding on doors, warning the citizens. “Groost! There’s a groost on the edge of the city!”

Sleepy exclamations came from the houses as he ran on, cutting a noisy path through the city toward the eastern side where the groost lay in wait.

Everyone knew about groosts, but no one had seen one in years – Kiva certainly hadn’t. It was said they were rare, even rarer than dragons, and much, much nastier. They had sharp teeth and claws, enormous wings, and three heads.

No one had ever heard of anyone ever killing a groost. They were far too powerful to fight. But it was possible to chase them away.

The best way to get rid of a groost, Kiva’s mother had said, was to get a large crowd of brave men, armed with shiny metallic shields, and polished mirrors. Groosts were vicious, but territorial, and not particularly intelligent. A big group carrying a myriad of reflective surfaces could chase a groost away by showing it its own reflection. The nasty but foolish creature would be tricked into thinking it was facing another of its own kind, and move on. They were rare enough that they had little need to compete for territory, so the groost would have no real motivation to stay and fight.

But Kiva couldn’t do it alone. So, he pounded on doors, shouted through windows, and warned the people of Dar’Alvah as he ran through the city.

Kiva threw down his staff, and paused to grab a large, reflective pot lid sitting outside a local tavern. A hand grabbed him firmly by the arm and spun him around.

“Just what do you think you’re doing, you dirty golden devil? Are you stealing from me?”

A large, barrel-chested man with a full turquoise moustache and beady green eyes glared down at Kiva, who realized this must be the tavern owner.

“No, sir! There’s a groost on the edge of town! I’ve been warning the people, but I need a reflective surface to help chase it away.”

“A likely story,” another voice snorted from nearby. Apparently, they were beginning to draw a crowd.

“This evil little devil boy is probably just playing a prank on us,” someone chimed in.

“I’m not even sure groosts actually exist,” agreed another.

“Get out of here, you dirty devil!”

“We don’t want your kind here!”

As the crowd swarmed in around him, pelting Kiva with insults, small rocks, and old fruit, he curled up into a protective ball. “Please,” he cried, trying to shout above the cacophony of furious Dar’Alvans, “I’m only trying to help! There really is a groost!”

“Liar!”

“Everyone knows you can’t trust a Jin’oshan!”

Kiva curled in tighter, tucking his head and knees to his chest, as the mob screamed overhead.

I should have known, he thought in despair. The people here would never accept a Jin’oshan like me.

Suddenly, a scream broke through the roar of the crowd. “Groost! There’s a groost on the edge of the city!”

The crowd backed away from Kiva, looking around in confusion. From the eastern edge of Dar’Alvah came a furious roar, followed by the crash of a building collapsing.

The tavern owner’s eyes were as wide as saucers. “The little devil was telling the truth. Men, grab mirrors! Get whatever reflective surfaces you can find! Hurry!”

The mob dispersed, people rushing to find mirrors, or to hide. The tavern owner turned suspicious eyes on Kiva.

“I don’t know what you have to do with all of this…” he began.

“Nothing, sir!” Kiva promised. “I just saw the groost and wanted to warn the people.”

The tavern owner frowned. “Why? What do you care if we live or die?”

Kiva did not know how to answer this. “Why wouldn’t I? We may look different from one another but, we’re all still people. Your lives matter just as much as mine does. Besides,” he hesitated for a moment, then confessed. “My father may have been Jin’oshan, but my mother is Dar’Alvan. You’re my people, too.”

Looking slightly alarmed, the tavern owner considered this, then nodded. “My apologies, boy. It seems that I may have misjudged you.”

Kiva accepted the apology with a nod, then grabbed the pot lid and ran toward the roaring in the distance. The tavern owner was hot on his heels, carrying a large baking sheet.

When Kiva arrived at the place where the groost was rampaging, a crowd was already beginning to form. He joined them, his pot lid held high. Soon, he found himself surrounded on all sides by pale green arms, all holding their reflective surfaces above their heads, aimed in the direction of the enraged groost.

As one, the mass of men began to roar back at the groost, shaking their mirrors, shields, and pot lids threateningly as they screamed in defiance. The groost shook its head, confused, then hissed back at them. After a few tense minutes of back-and-forth between the groost and the crowd, the groost gave a final, angry screech, and flew away.

Once they were sure the groost was truly gone, the men began to relax, laughing in disbelief that they had won the day. The patted one another on the back, grinning, almost delirious with relief.

Then, someone spotted Kiva, and the mood shifted, suddenly tense once more. The men began muttering to one another.

“A Jin’oshan? What’s he doing here?”

“He’s not one of us. Did he bring the groost?”

“Dirty golden devil.”

“Stop!” came a commanding voice from Kiva’s right. The tavern owner stood there, glaring back at the crowd. Gingerly, he put his arm around Kiva’s shoulders, and straightened to his fullest height.

“This Jin’oshan boy is the reason we were warned of the groost’s arrival. He saw it first, and woke the town. It is thanks to him that we were able to react so quickly, and chase off the groost before it could do any real damage. You all owe him a debt of gratitude!”

The men stared at the tavern owner, then at Kiva, still suspicious.

The tavern owner sighed. “If it helps, he says his mother is Dar’Alvan.”

“That’s right.”

Kiva whipped around, and found his mother smiling at him from the edge of the crowd. “Kiva is my son.”

Shocked whispers rippled through the throng as Ashila pushed her way past the men, and wrapped up her son in a warm embrace.

“Ashila,” one tall, slender man called out, hesitantly, “Is this the boy we banished to the desert?”

Her chin lifted high, and she nodded. “He is. You may have banished him, but you could not keep me from him. I made sure he was looked after, and loved, just as he deserves. He may look different than us, but he is still a person, and worthy of love and respect - even if his mother is the only one willing to give it to him.” She smiled at her son, gently caressing his hair with her hand.

“But the Jin’oshan people are all devils, and liars! That’s why they have red eyes, and horns!” protested a voice from the back of the crowd.

Ashila whipped around to face the voice, her eyes flashing. “They have red eyes, and horns, and yes, even a tail simply because they evolved differently than we did. Their people lived in a place where those features were necessary, and helpful, just as we lived in a place where cool skin and blue hair helped us to survive. But we all come from the same ancestors if you look back far enough, and we are all exactly the same on the inside.”

She turned as she spoke, scanning the horde of men. “Kiva’s father, Malik, was a Jin’oshan man, and he was the love of my life. He taught me about his people’s culture, and their history. He showed me how to read the stars. He made me laugh. He brought me joy. He was kind, and brave, and good. Just as our son is kind, and brave, and good.”

Ashila looked into Kiva’s eyes once more. “My son saved many lives tonight, at the risk of his own. He did it, even though he knew you hated him. He did it, even though you banished him for the crime of looking different, when he was only a very small boy. He did it, because he’s a good man, and he didn’t want to see lives lost when he could do something to save them. Your lives have value to him.”

She stared at the crowd once more, daring them to challenge her. “Perhaps the lives of the Jin’oshan people should matter to you as well.”

The throng of men stool silent and abashed. The tavern owner cleared his throat. “Perhaps you’re right. This young man has certainly proven his worth tonight, and if he’s anything like his father’s people, we may have sorely misjudged them indeed. Perhaps, just because someone is different, it doesn’t necessarily mean that they’re bad.”

Ashila nodded, smiling. “Exactly. Good people come in all shapes, sizes, and colors, just as bad people do. You should never judge someone solely on their appearance. When you do, you risk missing out on a truly wonderful relationship.” She kissed Kiva on the forehead, and he blushed.

“Mom! You’re embarrassing me.”

She laughed. “Fair enough. It’s been a long night. Let’s take you home.”

Kiva sighed. “Back to the hut in the desert?”

“No,” Ashila said, “I think it’s time you came back to your real home, here in Dar’Alvah. I’m sure no one has a problem with that, correct?” she questioned loudly.

No one did.

The people of Dar’Alvah had learned an important lesson that night, and as time passed, they put it to the test. They reached out and created friendships with the Jin’oshan people, as well as the Vacarees who lived in the north and had spikes for hair. The city of Dar’Alvah bloomed, and became known as a haven for all types of people. Children from all different nations ran together, playing in the streets. No one judged anyone else on anything as insignificant as appearance. They learned to look, instead, for what was in a person’s heart.

And as for Kiva, he and his mother lived a joyful life, with many new friends from all kinds of different places and backgrounds. After years of loneliness and isolation, Kiva finally had a real home, surrounded by people who loved and accepted him.

The End