Early morning mist wrapped the temple grounds in a silent veil. The only sound was water crashing against the stone.
Lone sat beneath the ancient waterfall, legs folded, fists clenched on his knees. His clothes clung to him, soaked, as the cold stream pounded down. His eyes were shut tight—not from discomfort, but focus. His lips moved silently, repeating words Haru had once said:
"The heart must speak louder than the world around it."
The only thing louder than his heart was the water.
He exhaled slowly and raised his hand, trying again.
A faint shimmer stirred in the air before him. For a moment, it felt like something had answered. But just as quickly it vanished.
Lone's shoulders dropped. Still… nothing.
Temple Bells rang in the distance.
The spell was broken. He stood up, heavy with failure, and walked back slowly, water dripping from his sleeves, hair hanging like shadows over his eyes.
(Temple Dining Hall)
The scent of steamed rice and fresh herbs floated in the air. Lone sat silently among the other boys, who chatted and laughed around him. He stared at his bowl, untouched.
Haru noticed from afar. The old monk walked over, his wooden sandals tapping softly on the floor.
"The waterfall isn't just cold, it's stubborn, isn't it?" Haru said with a smile.
Lone gave a faint nod.
"Trying hard doesn't always look like success," Haru continued, "Sometimes, the trying is the success."
Lone glanced up at him.
"Lone… the strongest summons aren't born from pressure. They're born from connection. Let your heart guide you, not your frustration," Haru said, pouring him a warm cup of tea, "you've only just begun. There are paths even the strongest don't see right away."
Lone nodded faintly. Haru gave a warm nod back, then stood up and left the hall, his robes brushing lightly across the floor.