I plopped myself onto the low wall, legs swinging like a child and soul vibrating like a caffeine addict.
The swords clashed again.
God.
This was it.
Where the world made sense.
The air shifted. Tension pulled tight like a dress that doesn't fit anymore but you refuse to let go of. Elric fought harder. Sharper. Every move was louder now, more dramatic. Like he was in a play.
Like he was trying to impress someone.
Me.
Of course.
Shit.
He missed a parry. Too tense.
Gaihan swept his leg and Elric barely rolled away, panting.
"You're tight," Gaihan said. "Too much tension. Your grip's like a jealous boyfriend—let it go."
I snorted.
Elric wasn't listening.
He was charging. Furious. Sloppy.
God, he was spiraling. I'd seen that look. On myself.
The pressure to be better. To deserve the stage.
Even when no one claps.
I leaned forward, breath caught in my throat.
And then—he did it.
A low sweep. Clean. Unexpected.
A piece of Gaihan's hair floated to the ground like a mic drop.
"You've never used that move," Gaihan said, visibly impressed and mildly concerned for his haircare routine.
"I improvised," Elric panted.
"Impressive. But the exit was—"
"I know."
Yikes.
That tone.
The teenage boy version of "I'm fine" while bleeding out.
"You're not hearing me," Gaihan snapped.
"I am."
"No. You're showing off."
My stomach dropped.
Oh.
Right.
Me.
I looked away.
Oops.
They reset. This time, slower. Clearer. The anger simmered down into something cooler. Practice. Patience. Movement without ego.
Strike. Parry. Turn. Reset.
Breathless rhythm. The kind that makes time forget itself.
Finally—
A draw.
Two blades. Two throats. One silence.
No cheers. No bows.
Just raw effort. Equal tension. Balanced chaos.
"That's enough," Gaihan said, lowering his sword like he was putting a tiger back in its cage.
"No winner today."
Elric nodded, still locked in that moment.
I slipped off the wall. Approached.
"That was amazing," I said, softer than I expected.
Elric turned. Sweat. Shadows under his eyes. Still catching up to what his body just did.
He smiled.
Not big. Not proud.
Just real.
Like maybe, maybe, someone saw him.
Like maybe I did.