The wind slowed.
Not completely—
just enough for the movement of the grass to soften, the sharp rhythm of training dissolving into something quieter.
"…That's enough."
Kazue's voice had cut through everything.
Clean.
Final.
"…Training ends here for today."
---
Silence followed.
---
Yumi didn't move.
She was still lying on the ground, her cheek pressed lightly against the grass, her chest rising and falling unevenly. Each breath dragged a little more than the last, her body heavy in a way she had never felt before.
Her fingers twitched weakly against the earth.
But she didn't get up.
---
Footsteps.
---
Reiji moved first.
No hesitation.
No pause.
He turned and walked past her, his steps steady, controlled—like nothing had happened.
Like this had all been… expected.
---
He didn't say anything.
Not a single word.
---
Yumi's eyes shifted slightly, following him as far as she could without lifting her head.
"…?"
A faint crease formed between her brows.
---
Then—
another set of footsteps.
---
Kazue.
---
She didn't rush.
Didn't look down at Yumi for long.
Her expression remained calm, unreadable as she passed by, the faint rustle of her clothes brushing against the quiet air.
---
"…That's enough training for today."
---
That was all she had said.
Nothing more.
---
No "good effort."
No "you did well."
No "we'll improve."
---
Just—
enough.
---
Yumi's fingers tightened slightly in the grass.
---
"…That's it…?" she whispered under her breath.
---
The words felt small.
Too small.
---
She had run.
Fallen.
Tried again.
Failed again.
Over and over—
for hours.
---
And all she got was—
that's enough.
---
Her chest rose a little sharper this time.
Something tight pressed against it.
Not exhaustion.
Not quite.
---
Something else.
---
From behind—
soft footsteps approached.
---
Sui.
---
She stopped a short distance away, looking down at Yumi's small figure still sprawled across the grass.
For a moment—
she didn't speak.
---
Her gaze lingered.
Not critical.
Not distant.
---
Concerned.
---
"…Lady Yumi," she said gently.
---
Yumi didn't respond.
---
She already knew what that voice sounded like.
Soft.
Careful.
---
Too careful.
---
"…Are you able to stand?" Sui asked.
---
Silence.
---
Yumi's jaw tightened slightly.
---
"…I'm fine," she muttered.
---
The words came out weaker than she intended.
---
She pushed her hands into the ground—
slowly—
forcing her body up.
---
Her arms trembled.
Just slightly.
---
But she stood.
---
Barely.
---
For a moment, her balance wavered again—
that same instability from earlier creeping back in—
before she forced herself still.
---
"…See?" she said, not looking at Sui. "I'm fine."
---
Sui didn't answer immediately.
---
Her eyes moved over Yumi quietly.
The uneven breathing.
The stiffness in her posture.
The way her hands hadn't fully unclenched.
---
But she didn't say any of it.
---
"…Yes," Sui replied softly.
---
Another pause.
---
The wind passed between them.
---
Yumi stared forward.
Not at Sui.
Not at the ground.
---
At nothing.
---
Reiji was already gone.
Kazue too.
---
The field felt bigger now.
Emptier.
---
"…They didn't say anything," she murmured.
---
It slipped out before she could stop it.
---
Sui's gaze softened slightly.
---
"…Training has only just begun," she said.
---
But even that—
wasn't an answer.
---
Yumi's fingers curled again.
---
"…I know that," she snapped suddenly.
---
Too fast.
Too sharp.
---
Silence fell again.
---
The wind moved.
The grass swayed.
---
And Yumi stood there—
feeling something she couldn't quite name.
---
Not anger.
Not sadness.
---
Something quieter.
Heavier.
---
Because being told she failed—
would have been easier.
---
But this—
this silence—
this absence—
---
Felt worse.
---
Much worse.
The walk back was quiet.
---
The training ground sat just behind the mansion—
close enough that the towering structure loomed over the field, its shadow stretching long across the grass as the sun dipped lower.
---
Reiji was already ahead.
Walking at his usual pace.
Steady.
Unbothered.
---
Kazue walked not far behind him, her steps calm, measured—unchanged from before.
---
And behind them—
Yumi.
---
Her steps were slower.
---
Not by choice.
---
Each step pressed heavier into the ground, her legs carrying a weight they had never held before. The soft grass gave way beneath her feet, but instead of lightness—
it dragged.
---
A slight limp slipped into her movement.
Barely noticeable.
But there.
---
Her posture was still straight.
Her chin still raised.
---
But it wasn't the same.
---
Before—
she walked like the ground belonged to her.
Like every step was deliberate.
Effortless.
---
Now—
each step felt like something she had to think about.
---
Lift.
Move.
Place.
---
Too aware.
Too heavy.
---
Her arms hung a little lower than usual.
Not swinging with that same controlled confidence.
---
Dragging.
Just slightly.
---
The distance wasn't far.
It shouldn't have felt long.
---
But it did.
---
From the side—
soft footsteps adjusted.
---
Sui slowed down.
---
She moved to walk beside Yumi, her presence quiet, careful not to startle, not to intrude too suddenly.
---
"…Lady Yumi," she said gently.
---
Yumi didn't look at her.
---
"…What," she muttered.
---
Sui glanced at her briefly.
Taking in the small details.
The uneven rhythm of her steps.
The faint tension in her shoulders.
---
"…Are you feeling unwell?" Sui asked softly.
---
A pause.
---
Yumi's fingers curled slightly at her sides.
---
"…I'm fine," she said.
---
Too quick.
---
Too automatic.
---
She kept walking.
---
Sui didn't stop.
---
"…You exerted yourself for several hours," she continued, her tone still gentle. "It would not be unusual to feel fatig—"
---
"I said I'm fine."
---
Sharper this time.
---
Yumi's voice cut through the quiet air, though it lacked the force it usually carried.
---
It didn't echo.
Didn't command.
---
It just… fell.
---
A small silence followed.
---
Sui lowered her gaze slightly.
"…Understood."
---
She didn't press further.
---
They kept walking.
---
The mansion grew closer.
Tall.
Silent.
Waiting.
---
Yumi's steps slowed just a fraction more as they approached.
---
Her leg dragged for half a second—
before she corrected it immediately.
---
"…Tch."
---
She straightened slightly, forcing her posture back into place.
Forcing control.
---
Like before.
---
But it didn't feel the same.
---
Nothing did.
---
The wind brushed past them once more—
cooler now.
---
And for the first time—
Yumi noticed something she had never paid attention to before.
---
Her body… hurt.
---
Not sharply.
Not painfully.
---
Just—
heavy.
---
Unfamiliar.
---
And she hated it.
---
"…It's nothing," she muttered under her breath.
---
As if saying it would make it true.
---
But her steps—
still dragged—
just a little—
as they reached the doors.
The dining hall was as vast as ever.
---
High ceilings.
Polished marble floors.
A long table stretching through the center of the room, lined with untouched seats and perfect symmetry.
---
And silence.
---
It was the same as always.
Nothing had changed.
---
But—
it didn't feel the same.
---
Yumi sat in her usual seat.
Straight-backed.
Composed.
---
Her plate had already been set.
The food arranged neatly.
Perfectly.
Exactly the way she liked it.
---
She picked up her utensils.
---
Paused.
---
Then began to eat.
---
Quietly.
---
No complaints.
No remarks.
No small, sharp comments about the seasoning or presentation.
---
Nothing.
---
Just the faint, rhythmic sound of metal against porcelain.
---
Across from her—
Kazue sat calmly, her posture elegant as ever.
Reiji sat nearby, relaxed but composed.
---
Neither of them spoke.
---
Neither of them looked at her for long.
---
And Yumi…
didn't look at them either.
---
Her gaze stayed lowered.
Fixed somewhere near her plate.
---
But she wasn't seeing it.
---
She was somewhere else.
---
Her fingers tightened slightly around the fork.
---
The grass.
---
The way it gave under her feet.
---
The moment her balance slipped—
again—
and again—
and again.
---
Her foot planting too hard.
Her body leaning too far.
Her movements breaking apart no matter how much force she used.
---
Her hand paused mid-motion.
---
The sound of her falling.
---
The way the ground met her.
---
Over.
And over.
And over.
---
"…Why…" she whispered under her breath.
---
Her voice didn't carry.
---
It barely existed.
---
"…Why was something so simple…"
---
Her grip tightened slightly.
---
"…impossible for me?"
---
Silence answered her.
---
She swallowed.
---
Her eyes flickered slightly—
not upward—
but sideways.
---
Kazue.
Reiji.
---
They were eating.
Calmly.
Normally.
---
Like nothing had happened.
---
Like today meant nothing.
---
Yumi's brows pulled together just slightly.
---
"…What are they thinking…?" she wondered.
---
The thought came quietly.
Uncertain.
---
Were they disappointed?
Did they expect more?
Did they already know she would fail?
---
She didn't know.
---
And that—
bothered her.
---
More than anything.
---
She had always understood things.
---
People reacted in predictable ways.
Respect.
Distance.
Acknowledgment.
---
But this—
this silence—
this lack of reaction—
---
She couldn't read it.
---
She couldn't understand it.
---
Her chest tightened slightly.
---
Her fork lowered slowly back to the plate.
---
The food didn't taste like anything.
---
She chewed.
Swallowed.
---
But her mind stayed stuck—
on the field.
---
On that moment—
when nothing worked.
---
Her shoulders lowered just slightly.
Barely noticeable.
---
"…I don't get it…" she murmured.
---
No one responded.
---
The hall remained quiet.
---
Too quiet.
---
And for the first time—
that silence didn't feel normal.
---
It felt—
heavy.
The dining hall eventually emptied.
---
Yumi had left first.
Quietly.
Without a word.
---
Her footsteps faded down the corridor, swallowed by the vastness of the mansion.
---
Silence lingered behind her.
---
Reiji set his utensils down with a soft clink.
---
"…She's worse than I thought."
---
The words came out flat.
Not harsh.
Not emotional.
---
Just… honest.
---
Across from him—
Kazue didn't react immediately.
---
She lifted her cup, taking a slow sip of tea before setting it back down with the same calm precision she always carried.
---
"…No," she said.
---
A small pause.
---
"…She's exactly what I expected."
---
Reiji leaned back slightly in his chair, his brows pulling together just a fraction.
---
"…You expected that?" he asked.
---
Kazue's gaze shifted slightly, toward the direction Yumi had left.
---
"She has strength," she said.
"More than most children her age."
---
A pause.
---
"But that's all she has."
---
Reiji didn't interrupt.
---
Kazue continued.
---
"No foundation."
"No understanding of her own body."
"No awareness of movement."
---
Her fingers rested lightly against the table.
---
"No discipline."
---
The words settled into the silence.
---
"…She doesn't even know how to stand," Reiji muttered.
---
Kazue didn't disagree.
---
"She's never needed to," she said calmly.
---
A small pause.
---
"She has never struggled."
---
That was the difference.
---
Not ability.
Not potential.
---
Experience.
---
Reiji exhaled slowly.
---
"…Still," he said, "I thought she would at least—"
---
"She wouldn't," Kazue cut in.
---
Calm.
Certain.
---
"Because she doesn't understand what she's doing."
---
Her gaze sharpened slightly.
---
"She believes strength is something you decide to have."
---
A pause.
---
"That if she tries hard enough—she'll reach it."
---
Reiji's expression shifted slightly.
---
"…And she won't."
---
Kazue's voice didn't change.
---
"Not like this."
---
Silence lingered again.
---
Then—
Kazue spoke.
---
"Talent doesn't matter if the body rejects itself."
---
A pause.
---
"…Not that Yumi has any talent to speak of."
---
The words landed heavier than anything before.
---
Reiji didn't respond immediately.
---
Because he knew—
she wasn't being cruel.
---
She was being accurate.
---
"…So what do we do?" he asked after a moment.
---
Kazue leaned back slightly.
---
"We train her."
---
Reiji shook his head faintly.
---
"We won't be consistent enough," he said. "You're busy. I'm training. She needs structure."
---
A pause.
---
"…She needs someone patient."
---
Kazue's eyes flickered slightly.
---
"…No."
---
Reiji glanced at her.
---
"No?"
---
Kazue's gaze didn't soften.
---
"…We need someone who won't tolerate her."
---
Silence.
---
Reiji's brows furrowed.
---
"…That's a bit—"
---
"She will quit otherwise."
---
Kazue's voice cut through cleanly.
---
"No one has ever told her 'no' and meant it."
---
A pause.
---
"She has never been forced to face something she cannot control."
---
Her fingers tapped lightly once against the table.
---
"And now she has."
---
Reiji looked away slightly.
Thinking.
---
"…Then someone strict," he said.
---
Kazue shook her head.
---
"Not strict."
---
A pause.
---
"Unyielding."
---
The word lingered.
---
"She doesn't need guidance," Kazue continued.
"She needs resistance."
---
Reiji's expression grew more serious.
---
"…That kind of training—"
---
"—is the only kind that will change her."
---
Kazue stood slowly from her seat.
---
Her presence shifted slightly as she looked toward the hallway again.
---
"If Yumi is serious about this," she said,
"then she needs to understand something now."
---
A pause.
---
"This world is not a place for comfort."
---
Her voice lowered slightly.
Not softer—
but heavier.
---
"It does not adjust for you."
"It does not slow down."
"It does not care who you are."
---
Reiji stayed silent.
Listening.
---
"If she steps into it thinking effort alone will carry her—"
---
Kazue's gaze hardened just slightly.
---
"—then it will break her."
---
The words settled into the room like weight.
---
"She doesn't need to be protected from that," Kazue continued.
---
"She needs to face it."
---
A pause.
---
"And if she can't—"
---
She didn't finish the sentence.
---
She didn't need to.
---
Reiji exhaled slowly.
---
"…Then we find someone who can do that," he said.
---
Kazue nodded once.
---
"Yes."
---
Silence returned.
---
But this time—
it felt different.
---
Heavier.
---
Because something had already been decided.
---
And somewhere in the mansion—
unaware of it—
---
Yumi was walking toward a path—
that would not bend for her.
Yumi's room was quiet.
---
Too quiet.
---
The large windows were open, letting in the cool night air as soft currents drifted through the curtains. The faint glow of the village lights flickered in the distance, small and warm against the darkness.
---
But inside—
there was nothing.
---
Yumi stood in the center of the room.
Still.
---
In front of her—
a tall mirror.
---
Her reflection stared back at her.
Perfect posture.
Straight back.
Chin slightly raised.
---
The same as always.
---
"…Tch."
---
Her brows pulled together.
---
Slowly—
she adjusted her stance.
---
Just like earlier.
---
Feet slightly apart.
Weight centered.
Shoulders relaxed.
---
She held it.
---
A second passed.
---
Then—
her balance shifted.
---
"…!"
---
Her body tilted slightly forward, her foot instinctively stepping out to catch herself.
---
She stopped.
---
Silence.
---
Her eyes narrowed at her reflection.
---
"…Again."
---
She reset.
---
Carefully this time.
More focused.
---
Feet.
Weight.
Shoulders.
---
Hold.
---
A second.
---
Two.
---
Then—
her weight drifted again.
---
Too far back this time.
---
Her shoulders tensed.
Her posture collapsed.
---
"…No—"
---
She stepped out of it again.
---
Silence.
---
Her fingers curled slightly.
---
"…Again."
---
She tried again.
---
And again.
---
And again.
---
Each time—
the same result.
---
A slight imbalance.
A small shift.
A failure.
---
No one was watching.
---
No Reiji.
No Kazue.
No Sui.
---
No pressure.
---
And still—
she couldn't do it.
---
Her breathing grew just slightly uneven.
---
"…Why…?"
---
The word slipped out quietly.
---
She stared at her reflection.
---
Her stance looked right.
It felt right.
---
But it wasn't.
---
"…Am I weak…?"
---
The question hung in the air.
---
Her eyes tightened immediately.
---
"…No."
---
The answer came fast.
Sharp.
---
"That's not it."
---
It couldn't be.
---
She was fast.
She knew that.
She had seen it.
---
Mach 2000.
---
Faster than most children her age.
Stronger.
Better.
---
So why—
---
Her fingers tightened slightly.
---
"…Then what is it?"
---
Silence answered her again.
---
Her gaze didn't leave the mirror.
---
But her thoughts drifted.
---
To the training field.
To falling.
To failing.
---
To him.
---
Kaito.
---
The way he moved.
The way everything looked… natural.
Easy.
---
Like he didn't have to think about it.
---
Like his body just… knew.
---
Yumi's grip tightened further.
---
"…What if…"
---
The words came slower this time.
Quieter.
---
"…What if I can't become like Kaito…?"
---
Silence.
---
The thought lingered.
---
Heavy.
---
Unfamiliar.
---
Uncomfortable.
---
Her reflection didn't change.
---
But something in her expression did.
---
For a moment—
just a moment—
uncertainty showed.
---
Then—
---
Her brows furrowed sharply.
---
"…No."
---
Her hands clenched into fists at her sides.
---
Her posture straightened again—
forced.
---
"That's not it."
---
Her voice hardened.
---
"I just need more time."
---
A step forward.
---
"I just need to train more."
---
Her fingers tightened.
---
"Then I'll just train harder."
---
The words landed with certainty.
---
Conviction.
---
But—
---
Her stance—
still wasn't right.
---
And she didn't notice.
Because she still believed—
that effort alone was enough.
She believed pushing harder would fix everything.
That trying more would close the gap.
She still didn't understand—
that effort, without direction, only leads to failure.