Daniel woke to the same water stain.

  Sunday morning. Pale light through the window, the building quiet in that particular way it only got on weekends. No footsteps overhead, no muffled arguments through the walls. Even Mrs. Liu's television was silent.

  The poster first. He'd checked it twice last night before falling asleep, half-convinced the cracks would have spread, eaten through the drywall, brought the whole wall down. But the poster sat flat and undisturbed. Lau Ching-yee mid-strike, robes frozen in motion. The cracks were still there beneath it, radiating outward like frozen lightning.

  Still real. Still impossible.

  He sat up, closed his eyes, focused on his abdomen. The light in his dantian, flickered on immediately. Faster than last night, faster than any of the practice attempts he'd documented in his notebook. Three seconds, maybe less. Getting easier to access.

  That should have been reassuring. Instead, it made him nervous.

  The words were easy enough to read on paper. Qi. Internal energy. Harder to accept when the thing itself was actually inside you, ticking as if it were a bomb.

  Daniel got dressed. Jeans, hoodie, the usual. He grabbed his keys from the milk crate and stood by the window for a moment, looking out at the fire escape and the alley below.

  One more day before work. One day before he had to go back to stocking shelves at Mr. Zhao's shop like nothing had changed. Whatever normal meant now.

  He needed to tell someone.

  Not because this was some world-changing discovery. Not because he wanted advice or validation. But because he couldn't process it alone. The weight of it was too much for one brain. Two would be better. Someone to bounce ideas off. Someone to tell him he wasn't going crazy.

  And Henry had given him the URL in the first place. Henry deserved to know that qi was real. That the thing he'd been half-joking about might actually exist.

  The bus ride to Richmond took thirty minutes.

  Daniel found a seat near the back of the 30 Stockton and spent most of the trip staring out the window. The vinyl seat was cracked and patched with duct tape, warm from the sun coming through the glass.

  Chinatown slid past first. Familiar storefronts, familiar smells. Then North Beach, with its cafes and bookstores and tourists photographing the Transamerica Pyramid in the distance. Then the long climb through the Western Addition, Victorian houses painted in faded pastels, corner stores with hand-lettered signs, a church letting out its morning service.

  The bus groaned up the hills, brakes squealing at every stop. An old woman with plastic grocery bags sat across from him, muttering to herself in Russian. A kid in the front was playing a Game Boy, the tinny music barely audible over the engine noise. Two teenagers near the back door were arguing about basketball, voices rising and falling.

  The bus lurched to a stop at a red light. Through the window, Daniel watched a man walking three dogs at once, the leashes tangled around his legs. Normal Sunday. Normal people doing normal things.

  Daniel's mind kept cycling through scenarios.

  What if Henry didn't believe him? What if he tried to demonstrate and accidentally broke something in Henry's apartment? What if Henry's first instinct was to tell someone else. His parents, or worse, post about it online?

  But Henry had been talking about this stuff for years. Conspiracy theories about lost knowledge, hidden masters, secret government programs. If anyone would take this seriously without immediately thinking Daniel was crazy, it was Henry.

  The bus stopped at Geary and Arguello. Daniel got off, felt the fog-damp air hit his face, and walked three blocks to Henry's building.

  It was a narrow three-story walkup wedged between Henry's mom's restaurant and a Russian grocery. The restaurant's kitchen vents were already running, pumping out the smell of pork and star anise. Sunday dim sum prep.

  He pressed the buzzer for 2B. Waited. The intercom crackled with static.

  "Daniel?" Henry's mom's voice, warm even through the ancient speaker. "Henry's upstairs. Come up, come up. Have you eaten?"

  "I'm fine, Mrs. Chu. Thank you."

  The door buzzed. Daniel pushed through into a narrow stairwell that smelled like oil and laundry detergent. The stairs creaked under his weight, the same creaks they'd made for years. He climbed to the second floor, heard voices from inside the apartment. Cantonese, Henry's parents talking over each other in the living room. Sunday morning. The whole family home.

  Henry opened the door before Daniel could knock.

  T-shirt and basketball shorts, hair still messy from sleep, eyes slightly puffy. He looked like he'd been up late gaming again. The faint sound of Street Fighter music drifted from somewhere behind him.

  "Yo, what's up?" Henry started, then stopped. His expression shifted as he took in Daniel's face. "Dude, you okay? You look weird."

  "Yeah. I just… can we talk? In your room?"

  Henry studied him for another second. "Yeah, for sure. Come in."

  Daniel stepped inside. The apartment was warm, slightly cramped, every surface covered with something. Framed photos on the walls, ceramic figurines on shelves, stacks of magazines on the coffee table.

  Red paper cutouts still up from New Year, months ago. It smelled like rice porridge and preserved vegetables, the particular smell of a Cantonese household on a weekend morning.

  Henry's mom called out from the kitchen, something about whether they'd eaten. Henry yelled back that they were fine, already steering Daniel down the hall.

  Henry's room was at the end, door half-open. Daniel had been here a hundred times, but he noticed the details differently now. Posters on the walls. Martial arts heroes, action stars, some old wuxia films.

  A small TV on a wooden stand with a Super Nintendo hooked up, Street Fighter II paused mid-match. Ryu and Ken frozen on screen, waiting. Clothes piled in the corner, clean and dirty mixed together. Skateboard leaning against the closet.

  A window looking out onto the alley behind the building, light filtering through half-closed blinds. The desk was cluttered with old schoolwork he probably hadn't touched since he graduated, cassette tapes, a half-eaten bag of shrimp chips.

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  Henry shut the door behind them and kept his voice low. "Alright. What's going on?"

  Daniel sat on the edge of Henry's bed. The mattress squeaked under him, springs old and tired.

  "I went to that website," he said quietly. "Read through the Usenet posts."

  Henry dropped into his desk chair, wheeled it closer. "Yeah?"

  "I tried one of the techniques. One of the qi exercises people were posting about."

  Henry reached over and unpaused his game, the Street Fighter music filling the silence. Something to do with his hands. "And? Did it work?"

  Daniel nodded. "It worked."

  Henry's hands stilled on the controller. He stared at Daniel for a moment. "Like... you felt something? Warmth or whatever?"

  "I don't know how to describe it." Daniel's hands were clasped between his knees, knuckles white. "But I blew up my wall."

  Silence. Even the game music seemed to fade into background noise.

  Henry blinked. "What?"

  "I was following the instructions," Daniel said. "The energy built up in my body. And when I breathed out, my breath hit the wall. Cracked it. Tiny fractures spreading outward like the whole thing was made of glass." He swallowed. "I covered it with a poster."

  Henry set the controller down slowly. His fingers stayed on it for a moment, like he'd forgotten how to let go.

  "And there were other techniques too," Daniel continued, leaning forward. "On the forum. Wuji Stance, something called the Microcosmic Orbit, palm exercises. Different methods from different people. I think some of them might work too, but I haven't tried those yet."

  Henry kept staring. Then he scoffed, shaking his head. "You're kidding."

  "I'm not."

  "You're serious."

  "I'm serious."

  Henry stood up, started pacing in the small space between his bed and desk. Three steps one way, three steps back. His bare feet made no sound on the carpet. "So, what? You melted the wall like a dragon breathing fire? Just straight up blasted it?"

  "Not fire." Daniel searched for the words. How did you describe something that shouldn't exist? "It was like... a strong gust of wind. If wind could cut things. Like the air itself became sharp for a second."

  "You didn't just punch the wall and make up a story."

  "No. I was sitting on my futon. Didn't even move. Just breathed out and the wall cracked."

  Henry stopped pacing. His eyes were bright now, skepticism giving way to something else. "Could you show me?"

  "What? No." Daniel's voice rose before he caught himself, lowered it again. "I can't show you here. Even if I could control it, which I can't, you want me to blow a hole in your wall with your parents in the next room? You want to explain that to your mom?"

  Henry paused, visibly imagining that conversation. His mom's face. The questions that would follow.

  "Fair point," he admitted. "What about the skatepark?"

  "I'm telling you supernatural powers are real and your first thought is vandalism."

  "I just want proof, man." Henry spread his hands. "Some evidence. Something I can see."

  "I don't have proof I can show you." Daniel shook his head. "Not without destroying something. And I'm not experimenting in your living room. I'm not even sure I want to experiment in my own apartment anymore." He paused, looked down at his hands. They looked the same as always. No glow, no visible change. "Besides, the first time was violent because the qi channels were blocked. I don't think I could do it like that again even if I wanted to."

  Henry dropped his hands. The joking energy faded as he absorbed the specific language. "Qi channels. You mean meridians? From the old movies?"

  "Yeah." Daniel pulled the folded printouts from his back pocket. The pages were soft from being handled, creased at the corners. "The forum posts talk about breakthroughs. When meridians have been closed for a long time, the energy builds up behind the blockage. Then when it finally moves, it all comes out at once. Like water out of a broken dam."

  "And you tested this."

  "I practiced six times last night. Documented everything in a notebook." Daniel met Henry's eyes. "Because no matter how crazy this is, if it exists in the real world and you can repeat it, it's a science problem. And science problems have solutions."

  "So, this stuff can actually kill you if you screw it up." Henry's voice had gone serious.

  "Some of the posts mentioned qi deviation. Energy going wrong, damaging your body from the inside." Daniel shrugged. "I don't know if that's real or just people being dramatic. But yeah. Maybe."

  Henry was quiet for a moment. The Street Fighter music played on, cheerful and oblivious. Ryu and Ken still frozen, still waiting.

  "But you can also crack walls with it."

  "Yeah."

  Henry sat back down, heavily. The desk chair creaked under him. "Bro. This is like actual superpowers. You have superpowers."

  "I don't know if I'd call it that."

  "What else would you call it? You broke your wall with your breath. That's superhero stuff."

  "So, you believe me now?"

  "No." The grin flickered back. "I just want to see how far you're going to take this bit."

  Daniel gave him a flat look. "I'm serious. Help me out here."

  "Alright, alright." Henry held up his hands. "Let's say it's real. Let's say qi exists and you can access it." He leaned forward, elbows on knees. "If you can crack walls by breathing, what else is possible? Can you levitate? Punch through concrete? Shoot fireballs?"

  "I don't know. I haven't tried."

  "But think about it." Henry's voice dropped, intense now. "If this technique works, the others probably do too. Iron Palm. Qinggong. That's the lightness skill, right? Walking on water, jumping over buildings? Internal alchemy. All that stuff from the movies. What if it's all real?"

  Daniel nodded slowly. "Maybe. I don't know. That's what scares me."

  "Scares you? Dude, this is incredible."

  "It's incredible if I can control it. It's terrifying if I can't."

  "So what do you need?" Henry asked. The excitement was still there, but underneath it, something more serious. "For real. What's the next step?"

  "More information." Daniel held up the papers. "This technique worked, but I can't control it. Sometimes the energy pools in my shoulder. Sometimes it gets stuck in my chest. I feel like I might pop if I don't figure out what I'm doing wrong." He tucked the papers back into his pocket. "And I need somewhere to practice that isn't my apartment. Somewhere I can't hurt anyone if something goes wrong."

  "Then we go back to the library," Henry said, sitting up straighter. The desk chair squeaked as he shifted his weight. "Find more posts from whoever gave you the instructions, see what else he knows. Maybe there's a way to stabilize the energy." He snapped his fingers. "And what about the old warehouses by the waterfront? By the closed shipping lanes? Nobody goes there at night."

  Daniel considered it. "There might be other people around. Kids. Maintenance workers. Homeless people."

  "At night though. Late night practice sessions." Henry was pacing again, energy building. His bare feet padded on the carpet. "We document everything. Keep a log. Track your progress. Like real scientists."

  "Yeah. Maybe."

  Henry stopped suddenly. "Wait. Hold on." He turned to face Daniel. "You're thinking like you're the first person to figure this out. Right?"

  "I mean... if it was real all along, where is everyone? Why isn't this common knowledge?"

  "But what if you're not the first?" Henry's eyes were bright. "What if it used to be everywhere? Magic, supernatural abilities, all of it. And what if every government in the world knows about it. Has always known. And they systematically destroyed it so they could never be threatened?"

  Daniel stared at him.

  "Think about it," Henry continued, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. He was in his element now, the way he got when talking about UFOs or government cover-ups. "Every major historical event destroyed mystical knowledge. The Inquisition. They killed anyone who practiced 'witchcraft.' The British looted India's temples. Burned libraries. The Cultural Revolution destroyed thousands of years of Chinese tradition."

  He leaned forward, eyes bright. "And what about MK-ULTRA? Project Stargate? What if those weren't experiments to create psychic powers. They were programs to find the last people who still had them. To contain them. Or eliminate them."

  "That's..."

  "Insane? Yeah. But maybe you're not special. Maybe there's something actively suppressing this. Making sure nobody figures it out again." Henry spread his hands. "And you just did. By accident. From a random internet post."

  "I don't think a global conspiracy spanning centuries is the simplest explanation," Daniel said. But even as he said it, he wasn't sure. Yesterday he would have said qi itself was impossible.

  "Maybe not." Henry grinned. "But it'd be pretty crazy if it was true, right?"

  "Yeah. Crazy."

  Daniel stood up, stretched his back. His spine popped in two places. The conversation had wound down to its natural end, but the weight of it still hung in the air between them.

  "You sure you want to be part of this?" he asked. "Because honestly, I think it's going to be dangerous no matter what I do. If I keep practicing, something could go wrong. If I stop, I might never understand what I stumbled into. Either way, it's not safe. And if your conspiracy theories are even half right..."

  He trailed off. Henry's grin softened into something more genuine. "Dude. You just told me mystical energy is real. You think I'm sitting this out?" He punched Daniel's shoulder lightly. "Besides, someone needs to make sure you don't accidentally vaporize yourself."

  Daniel smiled. "Yeah. Thanks."

  "Don't mention it." Henry grabbed two controllers from the tangle of cords by the TV. Tossed one to Daniel. "So. Before we save the world or whatever. We got time till night. You want a round?"

  "Sure," he said, catching the controller. "Why not."