— Sasuke (Yan Hai) POV —
Breathwork. Balance. Brush strokes.
That was my life now.
Days stretched and blurred, each one beginning with the rise of the sun and ending in silence beneath the paper lamps of Piandao's home. No drills. No sparring. No bending. Just motion and stillness—over and over, until the two became the same.
This morning, I stood in the center of the courtyard with a broomstick balanced across the tops of my palms. No fists. No grip. Just weight, breath, and control.
Piandao circled me, arms folded behind his back.
"Loosen your shoulders."
"They are."
"No. They're bracing. You're still preparing for an impact that isn't coming."
I exhaled.
Focus. Don't anticipate. Let the moment be.
The stick wobbled. Then steadied.
Piandao nodded and moved on.
Across the courtyard, Fat was pruning the bonsai trees with exacting care. He hadn't said a single word in all the weeks I'd been here. But I knew he was watching.
He always was.
When the stick finally slipped and clattered against the stone floor, I didn't scowl. I picked it up again and resumed the stance.
My body ached differently now. Not from impact or exhaustion. From restraint. From repetition. From precision.
Every breath was a correction.
Every step was deliberate.
That afternoon, we returned to calligraphy.
Piandao handed me a blank parchment, a fresh brush, and a bowl of ink.
"One stroke," he said.
I stared at the page. One stroke?
"What am I writing?"
"Nothing. Just a line. But it must be one stroke. No corrections. No second tries."
I raised the brush, hovering over the page. My fingers itched for perfection. For control.
I moved.
The brush slid across the parchment, then stopped.
I stared at the result. Slightly curved. Uneven at the end.
I hated it.
"It's not straight," I muttered.
"No stroke is."
Piandao examined the paper and then placed it beside a dozen others.
Some thicker. Some shakier. All imperfect.
"All of these were drawn by soldiers," he said. "Students who came to me after the war. After they lost their purpose."
"And you made them paint lines?"
He smiled faintly. "No. I taught them to see when their hands were ready to hold a blade again."
He handed me another parchment.
"Again."
Later, we played Pai Sho.
I lost. Again.
"You hesitate," Piandao said. "Your instincts are good, but you doubt yourself. Second-guessing is still guessing."
"It's hard to focus on rules I don't fully understand."
"That's how life is. Learn to read intent, not patterns."
I stared at the board. The White Lotus tile sat untouched.
"I'm learning," I said.
"Good. You'll lose more gracefully that way."
That earned a flicker of amusement from Fat, who was sweeping behind me. I could've sworn I saw him smirk.
The game ended. I'd lasted longer than usual. Piandao cleared the board without comment.
The next morning, he placed a second wooden sword beside mine.
"You'll train with Fat today."
I blinked.
Fat looked up from where he was arranging tea.
He said nothing.
Piandao left us without further explanation.
Fat and I stared at each other. Then he walked to the center of the courtyard and took out the neatly arranged pads and armor. He gave me my helmet and pads before finally picking up the sword.
His stance was solid. Balanced. Calm.
I stepped forward. We bowed.
Then he moved.
He wasn't fast—but he was fluid. His strikes were deliberate, minimal, and smooth. Each one tested my defense, exposed my overcorrections. We clashed wooden blades, the echoes sharp against the morning air.
And for the first time since I arrived, I broke a sweat from something other than balance drills.
I lost, of course.
But when we bowed again, Fat gave the smallest of nods.
Approval. Respect.
It meant more than I expected.
That night, I sat in the garden, watching the moonlight ripple across the koi pond. My sword rested beside me. Not a weapon yet. But not just a stick either.
Still no fire. No bending. No flicker of heat in my chest.
But I wasn't empty anymore.
I was sharpening.
And I wasn't doing it alone.
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(A/n: Today is finally the day I made a donation page (again)
the patr30n....I am in actual dire need of funds so I'm looking for all ways to make some income.
If you are feeling generous enough to help me out, then thanks a bunch.
patr3on ...com/Anoton
I haven't fleshed out all the details, but As a member, as soon as I finish a chapter, its going up on that website!
You can pay any tier and read all the chapters I have posted in advance.
thanks in advance!