"By the way, I wanted to ask you something, Master," I said, wiping the blade clean with my jacket.
"What is it now?" she replied, still annoyed.
"Every time I passed out after our sparring sessions, I would wake up with all my injuries gone. I've been wondering how that kept happening," I said, raising an eyebrow.
"I have no idea what you're talking about," she blurted, visibly flustered.
"Do you think I developed some kind of accelerated regeneration? Or... did you happen to heal me by bathing my wounds in Amrita water?" I asked in a low voice, giving her a sideways glance and a small smile.
"Impudence! Don't flatter yourself. I did nothing of the sort," she snapped, her face flushing red again.
In truth, I already knew exactly how my injuries had healed. I had been exhausted after each spar, but never fully unconscious.
To keep my jacket from getting ruined, I had always sparred bare from the waist up. Afterward, Nymeria would tear a strip from her sleeve, dip it into Amrita water, and gently dab my wounds with it. She had no idea how agonizing Amrita water actually was on the body.
I had kept my expression perfectly still, partly due to my high pain tolerance and partly because the pain was nothing compared to the quiet satisfaction of watching this softer side of her, and the way her gentle hands moved across my bare chest, abs, and arms.
There was no reason to tell her I knew. Her flustered expressions were far too endearing, and I had no intention of giving up the chance to tease her.
"Oh? Then why are you turning as red as a rose? Don't tell me you got flustered looking at your disciple's bare body, naughty Master," I whispered near her ear, my voice dropping to a teasing lilt.
She shoved me back without warning, shouting, "Get away from me, you jerk."
As I tipped backward, I instinctively grabbed her waist, and we landed in an extremely awkward position.
I was flat on the ground, she was on top of me, her silver hair spilling across my face, her breath warm against my ear, and both her hands braced on my shoulders.
Her soft chest was pressed firmly against mine, and her lower half was positioned directly above, well, exactly where it shouldn't have been.
"Are you finally showing your true colors?" she murmured, her voice unsteady.
"Why are you blaming me? You were the one who suddenly pushed me. My hands grabbed the nearest thing they could find, and it happened to be your waist. That is hardly my fault," I replied, brushing her hair away from my face.
"Then why are you still holding me there?" she said sharply, her eyes dropping pointedly to my hands still resting on her slim waist.
"My apologies," I said, and let go immediately.
That turned out to be exactly the wrong thing to do.
I had unknowingly been keeping her suspended slightly by the grip on her waist, and the moment I released her, she dropped squarely onto where she absolutely should not have landed.
A groan escaped my lips before I could stop it.
"She must think I'm a complete pervert," I thought, pressing a hand over my mouth and avoiding her eyes entirely.
"It's alright. I understand. That's... natural," she said softly, her lips barely an inch from my ear.
She pressed down on my shoulders, attempting to push herself upward, but failed to account for one critical detail.
As she shifted upward, the pressure against me only intensified.
"Pl-please don't move, or it might... go off," I muttered, turning my face to the side and covering it with the back of my hand.
"What might go off? And why do you have the shaft of a spear in your pocket?" she asked, shifting again.
"It is not a shaft!"
"It can't be... but it's so big—" she blurted before slapping both hands over her own mouth, her ears burning scarlet. She immediately lifted one knee and rolled sideways, getting off me.
"Please forget any of this ever happened," I mumbled with a heavy sigh.
"You don't need to be embarrassed. I didn't feel anything," she said, touching my arm gently.
"Do you even hear yourself right now?" I exhaled, my voice somewhere between disbelief and despair.
"Oh, no, sorry, that came out wrong. I obviously felt it, I just wasn't trying to feel it. You understand what I mean, right?" she rambled on without stopping herself.
"Please stop talking," I said, and clamped my hand over her mouth.
"You are not going to mention a single word of this to anyone. Blink twice if you agree, Master," I said, keeping my hand firmly in place.
She blinked her pale eyes twice in quick succession, and I lowered my hand.
"Raj, you don't have to call me Master anymore," she said softly, looking at me with an oddly innocent expression as we lay side by side.
"How could I not, after everything you taught me? And weren't you the one who insisted I call you that in the first place?" I asked, folding my hand beneath my head as a makeshift pillow.
"And now I am the one telling you to stop. It feels strange when you call me Master outside of training. Besides, aren't you older than me?" she said, fixing me with a sharp look.
"Alright, I won't call you Master anymore. And I'm barely a year older than you, but how did you know that?" I asked, eyes narrowing with suspicion.
"I guessed, obviously. Though it is hard to believe you're only twenty-one. I don't mean to be unkind, but your face makes you look considerably past your prime," she replied, tapping her chin thoughtfully.
"That stings. Do I genuinely look like an old man?" I asked, clutching my chest.
"Yes, you do. But a handsome one," she replied, and dropped her gaze slightly as she whispered under her breath, "Exactly my type."
She hadn't intended for me to hear it, but lying as close as we were, I read every word on her lips as clearly as if she had spoken them aloud.
I said nothing, pretending I had heard nothing, and turned my back to her. "I'm going to rest for a while. I need to be ready to face Jambavan tomorrow."