The wooden plank stood in front of me.
Unmoving.
Unchanging.
Silent.
Unlike the people I had fought before, this… thing felt different.
It didn't breathe.
Didn't shift its weight.
Didn't hesitate.
It simply stood there, as if it had all the time in the world, staring back at me without eyes, without expression. yet somehow it felt like it was saying something.
*Slice me… if you can.*
My grip on the wooden sword loosened slightly.
I stared at it.
It stared back.
No movement.
No intent.
No hostility.
Then…
why should I attack?
I lowered the sword just a little, my gaze still fixed on the plank as the silence between us stretched longer and longer, turning into something almost absurd.
We remained like that.
Facing each other.
Still...
A staring contest.
Time passed.
I blinked once.
Then again.
Nothing.
From behind me, footsteps approached, steady and slightly impatient, and soon Qian came into view, stopping just beside me as he followed my line of sight.
"…Why are you not attacking?" he asked, his voice calm but clearly expecting a very simple answer.
I didn't look at him.
I kept my eyes on the plank.
"It should strike first."
Silence.
A very long, very heavy silence.
I finally turned my head slightly toward him.
Qian was staring at me.
Not blinking.
Not moving.
As if I had just said something completely absurd.
"…You can't be serious," he said slowly, each word carefully placed, as if trying to confirm whether I was joking.
"I am," I replied just as calmly.
His brows pulled together.
"But it… it *can't* attack."
I tilted my head slightly, thinking for a moment before answering.
"Then why should I bother?"
That seemed to break something.
Qian exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair as he stepped back slightly, clearly trying to process what he had just heard.
"…This is a plank," he muttered, almost to himself. "A piece of wood. It doesn't fight. It doesn't move. It doesn't..."
I simply looked at him.
He stopped.
went into deep thoughts...
(if I'm not wrong…
His eyes darkened slightly.
Then it's not about strength.
Another memory surfaced.
Clearer now.
Sharper.
That blade.
The one the boy had carried when he was first found.
The one no one could properly identify.
Yet everyone feared.
The Devil's Blade.
A weapon whispered about in hushed tones.
A blade said to not just cut through flesh-
but through something far more dangerous.
Time itself.
Qian's fingers curled slightly.
It doesn't kill…
It removes.
A timeline.
A possibility.
An existence.
As if that moment… never happened.
His gaze snapped back to me.
Then why…
Why couldn't I slice something as simple as wood?
Why hesitate?
Why wait?
Unless....
He can't access it.
Or worse...
He doesn't understand it.)
Qian exhaled slowly.
Our eyes met.
And for a moment-
neither of us spoke.
*Am I saying something wrong?*
I wasn't joking.
Not even a little.
I had never started a fight in my life.
Not once.
I was always thrown into them.
Forced into situations where there was no choice but to react, to survive, to win.
So if something didn't attack…
didn't threaten…
didn't move-
Then why would I?
My fingers tightened slightly around the wooden sword.
Still…
When I *was* thrown into those situations-
I had to know how to fight back.
And win.
That was why...
even during that long year of "rest"
I never truly rested.
While everyone believed I was healing, sleeping, recovering quietly, I had been watching.
Observing.
Learning.
Every movement Qian taught the other children, every stance, every strike, every correction...I memorized them.
Practiced them.
Repeated them in silence, in darkness, when no one was around to see.
To them, those techniques might have seemed simple.
Even unnecessary.
But to me-
they were precise.
Efficient.
Beautiful.
I lifted my hand slightly and tapped Qian's shoulder.
"I can't," I said simply.
He looked at me.
Really looked this time.
Then suddenly..
he laughed.
Not a small chuckle.
Not a restrained breath.
But a real laugh.
"You…" he said, shaking his head slightly, a faint smile still lingering on his lips, "you really are something."
I blinked.
Was that… good?
A quiet pause followed, softer now, lighter than before, as if the tension had been pushed aside just enough to let something else slip through.
Then Qian spoke again.
"There's a festival coming up," he said, his tone more casual now, though there was still something beneath it, something he wasn't fully showing. "The town will be filled with stalls, games, people… noise."
He glanced at me.
"…Do you want to go?"
I stared at him.
"…Festival?"
His expression froze.
"…You don't know what a festival is… do you?"
I slowly shook my head.
"I don't."
Qian sighed, dragging his hand back through his hair, pushing the dark strands away from his face, revealing those striking blue eyes more clearly under the light.
For a brief second, they looked almost amused.
"…Of course you don't," he muttered.
Then, after a short pause, he added more softly...
"It's… lively."
I tilted my head slightly.
He continued, as if trying to explain something he had never needed to explain before.
"There will be lanterns everywhere, bright ones, painted in red and gold, hanging across the streets like small floating suns once night falls. Children run around carrying smaller ones shaped like animals, rabbits, dragons, even fish...laughing like nothing else in the world matters."
I listened.
Carefully.
My eyes widened slightly.
"There are games too," he added, glancing at me briefly. "People try their luck-throwing rings, guessing riddles, winning small prizes like carved wooden toys or painted masks."
He paused.
"And clothes," he said, almost as an afterthought. "People dress differently--lighter fabrics, brighter colors… some even wear traditional robes just for the occasion."
His gaze softened slightly.
"It's noisy. Messy. Pointless, if you think about it."
A small pause.
"…But it's fun."
Silence settled between us again.
I looked down at the wooden sword in my hand.
Then at the unmoving plank.
Then back at him.
"…Will there be swords?" I asked seriously.
Qian blinked.
"…No."
I thought for a moment.
"…Then what do people fight with?"
Another pause.
"They don't."
I frowned slightly.
"…Then what do they do?"
Qian stared at me for a long second.
Then-
he laughed again.
"…They live," he said simply.
Something about that answer stayed with me.
Live..
I looked at him again.
"…Then," I said after a moment, "I'll go."
Qian's expression shifted slightly.
Not surprised.
Not amused.
Just… softer.
"…Good," he replied Quietly..
The wind passed gently through the training ground, carrying with it a faint warmth that hadn't been there before.
And for the first time...
I felt like I was about to step into something I had never known.
Not a battle.
Not a test.
But something else entirely.
Something… alive.