As soon as Travis got the streets surrounding Columbia University, they had come alive with energy and students buzzing with excitement for the sign said was their annual Fall Festival. One of the biggest events of the year, drawing crowds from all over New York City.
Colourful booths lined the main walkways, and music thumped from speakers positioned at every corner of the campus. The usually calm and studious environment had transformed into something unrecognizable, filled with laughter, games, and performances.
Travis stood at the edge of the bustling festival grounds, overwhelmed by the sheer volume of noise and movement. His job today was simple, or so it seemed on paper—find Amanda Harrington, the girl he had been tasked to protect, and keep her in sight. But in a sea of students, vendors, and festival-goers, that task was proving to be far more challenging than expected.
He glanced around at the towering booths and crowded walkways, his eyes scanning for any sign of Amanda. For a girl who really didn't want to be found, this was the best place to hide. It felt like his secret cave at the back of the mountain, just with less noise and no people at all.
But, Travis knew he should have expected this, and after hours of fruitless searching, frustration was starting to seep into his calm exterior.
The Fall Festival was unlike anything he had ever seen. Back at the monastery, festivals were quiet, reflective events—simple gatherings focused on tradition and meditation. But here, it was the exact opposite. There were food trucks, student-run game booths, live performances, and groups of students in all sorts of costumes running from one event to the next. Travis felt more alien in the world around him.
He sighed, pushing his way through the crowd, narrowly avoiding a student wearing a giant inflatable sumo costume who was waving at passersby. The heavy thrum of modern music pulsed in his ears as he moved toward the main quad.
"Come on, Travis," he muttered to himself. "Focus."
As he maneuvered through the masses, he noticed a large banner that read "Columbia Martial Arts Exhibition—3:00 PM." His interest piqued, making Travis stop for a moment. The banner hung over a large booth, where students in martial arts uniforms were demonstrating various techniques to a growing crowd of onlookers.
For a moment, he allowed himself to watch. The students were skilled, their movements sharp and focused, but to Travis, their forms lacked precision. They were technically good, but there was no harmony between their movements and their core energy. A subtle smile played on his lips. He could spot their weaknesses with ease—imbalanced stances, openings in their defenses, a lack of flow in their movements. Still, he admired their effort.
Just then, his phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled out his old flip phone, frowning at the unfamiliar technology but managing to open it after a moment of fumbling.
"Where are you?" Penelope's voice came on the other end.
Travis sighed. "Stopped at the martial arts exhibition. I heard the miss ran away, and I came to look for her?"
"She's fine, I'm keeping a close eye on her. Min probably got the wrong message." Pen said as loud as she could.
"If that's the case then I'll come to you." Travis insisted walking away from the martial arts exhibition.
"Fine. If you can find the school dance stage, we'll be there, but I can't promise you the miss would be thrilled to see you." Pen said before cutting the line.
Travis removed the phone from his ear, dropping his hand. He signed before pocketing the phone. What was the miss doing at the dance section of the festival, wouldn't fashion be more her train?
It made sense given how popular the dance events were at the festival but it didnt feel right, unless… Maybe Penelope had even mentioned something about it earlier, though he may not have paid much attention.
Reluctantly, he turned and headed toward the main stage. As he made his way through the crowd, he could hear the faint beat of pop music growing louder and louder. The dance area was packed—students stood in groups, cheering for their friends as they performed choreographed routines. On stage, a group of dancers moved in perfect sync, their movements smooth and effortless.
Travis felt a pang of discomfort. He wasn't used to such a loud, chaotic environment. The monastery he was coming from had been peaceful, quiet. The contrast made his head spin.
He scanned the crowd, his eyes finally landing on Amanda, who was standing near the front of the stage with her friends. She looked completely at ease, laughing and chatting as if the events of the morning had never happened.
"She looks like a natural right?" Pen said suddenly appearing beside Travis.
"I believe so, but what is she doing here?" Travis asked, but before he could get an answer Amanda spotted him almost immediately.
Her smile faded, and she shot him a glare that could have cut through steel. Travis gave a small nod, acknowledging her without moving closer. The last thing he wanted was to provoke another tantrum.
"Just give her time, I'm sure she'll warm up to you, you just need to let her know she can trust you without making her feel… stuffy?" Penelope said before walking towards the young miss.
The music suddenly shifted, and a new group of dancers took the stage. The crowd cheered even louder as the music boomed through the speakers. The students on stage began moving with practiced precision, their steps perfectly timed to the beat.
But for Travis, the performance felt... off. The movements were sharp, but they lacked the fluidity and grace that came from connecting mind and body just like the exhibition. It was all show, no substance.
As Travis O'Neil watched, something stirred in him. He could sense the energy in the crowd, the rhythm in the air, and without thinking, his body began to move—just slightly, his foot tapping to the beat, his shoulders relaxing as the music took hold. He had never danced before, not like this. But something about the rhythm called to him.
Before he realized what was happening, he found himself swaying, his body moving in sync with the music. His martial arts training, rooted in fluid movement and precision, seemed to blend effortlessly with the beat. He stepped to the side, his movements subtle at first, almost hesitant.
Then, without warning, he was dancing, not like the students on stage, with their rehearsed choreography, but something more instinctual. His movements were a mix of fluid martial arts techniques and freestyle improvisation, his feet light on the ground, his arms moving gracefully through the air.
Forgetting what made him so upset earlier, Travis was lost in the rhythm, his body moving with an ease he hadn't expected. His training kicked in, and he began to incorporate flips, spins, and light kicks into his dance. He moved as if he were in a sparring match, but instead of fighting an opponent, he was dancing with the music itself.
The crowd had noticed him. Whispers spread through the audience as more and more eyes turned toward the strange man moving with such fluid grace near the back of the dance area. Some students began to cheer, mistaking him for part of the performance.
On stage, the dancers faltered, their attention drawn to the lone figure effortlessly moving to the music with a style unlike anything they had seen. One of the dancers, Mitch, signaled to the others to keep going, but their movements had lost some of their energy as they watched Travis.
Amanda, too, had noticed. Her mouth hung open in disbelief as she watched her bodyguard, the monk from the mountains, move like a professional dancer. Her irritation was momentarily replaced with shock.
She had spent months keeping Travis at arm's length, mocking his old-fashioned ways and ignoring his presence. But now, seeing him like this—so free, so... alive—she didn't know what to think.
As the song ended, the crowd erupted in applause. Travis, completely unaware that he had attracted so much attention, simply stopped moving, adjusting his jacket and preparing to walk away. But before he could slip back into the crowd, a group of dancers surrounded him, clapping him on the back.
"That was incredible, man!" one of them exclaimed.
"Where did you learn to dance like that?" another asked, clearly impressed.
Travis blinked, confused. "Dance? I wasn't dancing... I was—"
"Oh, come on! That was sick!" Mitch, the lead dancer, interrupted. "You've got to teach us some of those moves."
Travis opened his mouth to respond, but before he could say anything, Mitch grabbed his arm, dragging him toward the stage. "Come on! We're doing an encore. You've got to join us."
Panic flashed through Travis's eyes. "I don't—"
"He would love to… Go now Travis or I'll make you regret it." Pen said, suddenly appearing beside him again.
But it was too late now. The music started again, and before he knew it, Travis was on stage with the dance crew, the crowd cheering louder than ever.
For a moment, Travis froze. This wasn't his world. He didn't belong here. But then, he remembered something his master had once told him: "In every movement, there is harmony. Find the rhythm, and you will find peace."
Travis exhaled, relaxing his body. The music flowed through him once more, and he began to move. This time, the crowd watched in awe as the monk-turned-bodyguard danced alongside the professionals, his unique style blending seamlessly with theirs. His movements were light, controlled, and precise, drawing on his martial arts training to create something entirely new.
At the edge of the crowd, Amanda watched in stunned silence. She had never seen Travis like this—so at ease, so connected to the world around him. For the first time, she saw him not as a rigid, out-of-place bodyguard, but as someone with depth and skill, someone she had underestimated.
When the song ended, the crowd went wild. Travis, still catching his breath, gave a small bow to the audience, unsure of what had just happened.
"That was unreal," Mitch said, slapping him on the back again. "Dude, you've got to join our crew."
"I'm not... I'm not a dancer," Travis said, shaking his head. "I'm just..."
"Just what? A martial artist?" Mitch grinned. "Even better. We've got a martial arts demo later this afternoon. You should show off some of those moves."
Travis hesitated, glancing toward Amanda and Penelope , who was still standing at the edge of the crowd, watching him closely, Pen giving him a thumbs up. He wasn't sure what she was thinking, but something had changed. There was no longer the icy indifference in her gaze. Instead, she looked... impressed.
Mitch caught the direction of his gaze and raised an eyebrow. "Come on, man. You're already a hit. Might as well show everyone what else you've got."
---
Later that afternoon, Travis found himself at the martial arts exhibition, this time standing in the middle of the ring. The crowd was even larger now, having heard about his unexpected dance performance. The excitement buzzed through the air as students gathered to watch.
Mitch stood beside him, bouncing on his feet. "You ready?"
Travis gave a small nod. This was different from the dance. This, he understood. As the crowd quieted, Travis centered himself, his mind focusing on the techniques he had practiced for years.
Then, with fluid precision, he began to move.
Each motion was a seamless blend of strength and grace, his body flowing from one technique to the next. He demonstrated basic forms first, but as the exhibition progressed, he began to incorporate more advanced movements—flips, spins, and light sparring with Mitch, who struggled to keep up.
The crowd was captivated. They had come expecting a simple martial arts demonstration, but what they saw was something entirely different. Travis's movements were art in motion, a testament to years of discipline and training.
By the time the exhibition ended, the crowd erupted into applause once more. But this time, Travis didn't feel out of place. For the first time since he had arrived at Columbia, he felt a sense of belonging. Not because of the cheers or the admiration, but because he had found a way to connect his world with theirs.
As the crowd dispersed, Amanda approached him, her arms crossed but a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. "Not bad, monk," she said, her tone teasing but not as harsh as before.
Travis smiled slightly, giving her a nod. "Thank you, Miss Harrington." Pen shoved Travis lightly with a smile as she stood close to Amanda.
For a moment, the two stood in silence, the noise of the festival fading around them.
"Don't think this changes anything," Amanda added quickly, though her tone lacked its usual bite. "You're still my bodyguard, not a celebrity."
Travis chuckled softly, adjusting his jacket. "Of course."
But as she turned and walked away, Travis couldn't help but feel that something had shifted between them. He had earned her respect, even if she wasn't ready to admit it. And for now, that was enough.