—NEXT MORNING—
The sky hadn't yet decided whether it wanted to stay night or allow dawn to break. Shadows clung to every corner, and the wind carried a damp chill that settled deep into my bones.
"Hiroshi." A hand gripped my shoulder, rough, calloused—unmistakably Ryoji's. "Up. Now."
I groaned as my dreams shattered, leaving behind only the ache in my limbs and the sharp memory of yesterday's hike into the mountains. Ryoji's eyes glinted with something that made my stomach churn. I had seen that look before—in stray dogs right before they pounced.
Kaito was already up, stretching. "Morning," he said between yawns. "Ready to die?"
"Die?" I muttered, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.
"Figure of speech," he replied with a grin that didn't reassure me.
The village remained still and peaceful, dew glistening like crystals on rooftops and blades of grass. Not even the farmers had stirred yet.
Except for one household.
Aoi-san's.
The healer of the village. Wise, calm, and infamously grumpy before sunrise.
If she was up this early… that meant only one thing.
Ryoji had something stupidly dangerous planned.
Sure enough, he stood in the center of the open training field behind the village, arms crossed, a wide grin stretched across his face like a child on festival day.
"LET THE TRAINING BEGIN!" he bellowed into the morning air.
Several birds took off in alarm. Somewhere in the distance, a goat bleated in disapproval.
I sighed. So much for a slow morning.
---
—SPARRING SESSION—
Our first task was "basic sparring," as Ryoji called it.
I stepped onto the field with Kaito, barefoot, shirt damp with dew, heart already pounding.
He was confident. Light on his feet. Not cocky—just experienced. I could tell by the way he moved. Balanced. Centered. Like he'd been through this before.
Me? I had raw strength and guts. But technique?
Not so much.
"Don't go easy," I told him.
He didn't answer.
He lunged.
It happened so fast, I didn't even register the moment his fist connected with my chest until I was on the ground, gasping.
"Good match," Kaito said, offering a hand.
I took it, shame burning hotter than my bruises.
Ryoji scribbled something in his battered notebook. Probably a list of all my weaknesses—and how to exploit them.
Aoi-san came forward, hands glowing. Her touch was warm, soothing. Bones realigned. Pain dissolved. She didn't say a word. She didn't need to. Her disapproval radiated louder than any scolding.
I stood again, shaky but healed.
Then, without warning, Ryoji stepped forward.
His mere presence shifted the atmosphere. The lazy breeze stilled. The birds fell silent. Even Aoi-san took a step back.
---
—THE REAL TEST—
"Alright," he said, cracking his neck. "Time for your real lesson."
Kaito wisely sat beside Aoi-san. Elder Jiro arrived just in time, sipping tea and looking far too amused.
"You see, Hiroshi," Ryoji said as he picked up a wooden sword, "training isn't just about swinging your fists. It's about understanding fear… power… and instinct."
He raised his free hand.
The air changed.
At first, it was a subtle shimmer. Like heat waves dancing off a stone path.
Then came the hum—low, steady, ancient.
The temperature rose.
My breath caught as heat pressed down on me like a giant hand. My shirt clung to my back. My skin prickled.
Then I felt it.
Fear.
Something primal inside me screamed: RUN.
Ryoji exhaled. The air near his mouth shimmered orange.
"Dragon's Fire Breath."
He said it so casually.
Then the world roared.
A stream of fire erupted—not wild flames, but a shape. A dragon of pure flame, its wings beating thunder into the sky, eyes glowing with molten fury. It opened its mouth and screeched, the sound rattling my ribs.
I froze.
My feet refused to move.
My thoughts scattered.
This was it.
This was death.
I braced for pain, for the end.
And then—
Gone.
The heat remained, but the dragon evaporated like smoke.
I blinked. My ears rang. My legs trembled.
Ryoji stood exactly where he had been, arms crossed, a smug grin on his face.
"Training's over."
"WHAT?!" I wheezed.
"If that were a real attack, you'd be ash," he said. "But it wasn't. Just a projection."
My legs buckled. I hit the ground hard.
Jiro burst out laughing. "Hahahaha! Look at his face! He looked like a roasted dumpling!"
"I almost died!" I barked, barely able to breathe.
Ryoji crouched beside me. His expression turned serious.
"Listen, Hiroshi. Wind is strong. But fire? Fire consumes."
I managed a weak glare. "That's… incredibly biased… coming from a fire mage."
He smirked. "Exactly."
---
—AFTERGLOW—
Kaito joined me, handing me water. "You should've seen your face," he said between snorts. "You looked like you were going to cry."
I took a sip and muttered, "I was going to cry."
"Good," Ryoji said. "That means you're starting to understand."
"Understand what?! That you're crazy?!"
He looked up at the glowing sky, thoughtful now. "That power is terrifying. And if you can't face that terror, you'll never rise above it."
Those words hit something inside me.
He was right.
I wasn't strong enough.
Not yet.
But I wanted to be.
Not just to survive—but to protect those who couldn't. To face what was coming. Whatever it was.
I pulled myself to my feet, legs shaking.
Ryoji nodded. "You can rest for today. Tomorrow, we start real combat training."
I blinked. "That wasn't real combat?!"
He grinned. "Nope."
I collapsed again.
Jiro and Kaito lost it, laughing so hard Aoi-san finally snapped, "Do you idiots want to wake the spirits?"
I buried my face in my hands and groaned.
---
—LATER THAT NIGHT—
As I lay in the small room they'd given me, staring at the wooden ceiling beams, I replayed the fire dragon over and over again.
Its roar.
Its heat.
My helplessness.
I clenched my fist under the blanket.
No more freezing up.
Tomorrow, I'd be stronger.
Even if it killed me.