"Ow! Rika-chan! That hurts!" Shizuka staggered backward before dropping into a half-fallen sitting position on the ground, which was blanketed in brittle, dry leaves. The leaves crunched sharply beneath her weight. Both of her hands flew up on instinct to clutch her cheeks, which were already turning red from the impact.
Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears—not from any serious injury, but from the shock and the sting to her pride. She could still feel the lingering vibration of the punch traveling faintly along her jaw, a dull echo that refused to fade immediately.
"Then don't get distracted during a fight," Rika replied lightly, though the satisfaction in her tone was unmistakable. A wide smile curved across her face. Her breathing remained steady, not even slightly ragged.
Rika's posture was impeccable—back straight, shoulders aligned, feet still positioned firmly in a ready stance. A thin sheen of sweat traced down her temples, catching the late afternoon sunlight that filtered through gaps in the canopy above. The golden light flickered across her skin, but her gaze remained sharp and brimming with competitive fire.
I walked toward them, my steps slow but firm against the damp forest floor. Dry leaves crackled softly under my boots. The scent of moist earth and wet wood lingered in the air, blending with the faint warmth left behind by their sparring session.
"She's right," I said calmly. "Besides, Mei Mei already left after you got your hit back in. There wasn't anything left to watch."
Shizuka looked up at me with a sulky expression, her cheeks still flushed.
"Ugh… why didn't you tell us to stop when Mei Mei showed up?" she grumbled. She pushed herself back to her feet, brushing off the dirt clinging to her training clothes. Even so, one hand occasionally drifted back to her cheek, as if checking to make sure nothing inside had shifted out of place.
"Why would I?" I shrugged casually. "Mei Mei was only here for a moment. You were training. In a real fight, there's no time-out just because someone walks by. An enemy won't say, 'Hold on, I need to greet someone first.'"
Shizuka let out a small huff. Logically, she understood my explanation, but her ego clearly hadn't made peace with the sting of that clean hit.
"Then…" Rika crossed her arms over her chest. Her eyes settled on me, flat yet somehow more intimidating than a shout. "You two looked awfully cheerful talking. Mei Mei even kissed your forehead. What was that about?"
Her voice sounded casual, but there was something faint and difficult to define woven into it.
"What?! She did?!" Shizuka whipped her head toward me, eyes widening as though I had just committed some grave violation of an unspoken rule.
I chuckled softly. "What? It was just a kiss on the forehead."
I kept my smile easy, maintaining a neutral expression. "Doesn't Yukina do that to us and the kids at the orphanage all the time? It's normal, right?"
"Ugh… that's true…" Shizuka muttered at last. Her shoulders relaxed slightly. Confusion still lingered on her face, but her protest gradually faded.
"Hmph." Rika turned her gaze toward the trees. Her lips pressed into a faint pout as she exhaled quietly through her nose.
I glanced at her briefly. Was she annoyed? Jealous? Or simply irritated that her focus had been disrupted during training? Rika's expressions were always difficult to read—like the surface of a calm lake concealing a strong current beneath.
"That's enough," I said finally, cutting off any chance of the conversation drifting somewhere stranger. "Since your hand-to-hand sparring is done, lie down and rest for five minutes. After that, we'll continue with Cursed Energy control training."
My tone was firm, leaving no room for debate.
Shizuka immediately dropped onto the grass, arms spread wide as she stared up at the sky. Thin clouds drifted lazily overhead as the sun dipped lower toward evening. The light grew warmer, casting a tranquil golden hue across the forest—an almost ironic contrast to the intensity of their earlier exchange.
Rika sat cross-legged a few steps away. She closed her eyes, spine straight as a drawn blade. She inhaled deeply, then exhaled slowly. I could feel the flow of Cursed Energy around her gradually stabilizing, smoothing out like a river settling after crashing against stone, its currents returning to a quiet, controlled rhythm.
The late afternoon wind blew gently, rustling the leaves overhead and carrying away the lingering heat from their bodies after training. Those five minutes of rest were not merely to loosen stiff muscles, but to steady their thoughts.
Because in a real fight, the first to fall is not the weakest—but the one who lets their guard slip.
I sat with my back against the trunk of a large tree, its thick roots pushing firmly through the soil. The bark was rough and cool against my spine, grounding me in place. The evening air had begun to turn crisp, carrying the scent of damp earth and crushed leaves trampled during practice.
On my lap rested the suitcase Mei Mei had given me. It looked plain, almost unremarkable at a glance, yet it felt heavy—heavy not only because of what it contained.
I flipped open the locks.
The sharp click echoed clearly in the quiet forest, short and precise, like the signal that something more serious than physical training was about to begin.
When I slowly lifted the lid, neatly stacked bundles of Japanese yen came into view. ¥10,000 bills filled the interior, arranged with near-perfect precision, their edges aligned like bricks laid by a professional hand. The pale reddish hue of the paper stood in striking contrast to the shifting shadows of the trees around us.
The total: 56,700,000 yen.
Seeing that amount in person felt entirely different from simply hearing the number spoken aloud. A number is abstract—flat, distant. But when the money sat right in front of me, its weight became tangible.
A quiet sense of satisfaction warmed my chest, an acknowledgment of the risks I had taken and the effort I had put in. Yet alongside that satisfaction came something heavier.
Responsibility.
This much money could change many things.
"Is that from selling the compass-shaped Cursed Tool back then?" Rika asked. She didn't move closer, but her eyes fixed sharply on the contents of the suitcase, assessing without a trace of greed.
"Yes," I replied with a small nod. "After commission and Mei Mei's share, this is what's left."
Shizuka, who had been lying down moments earlier, immediately pushed herself up into a half-sitting position at my explanation. Her eyes sparkled brightly, nearly reflecting the warm light of the setting sun.
"Whoa! With that much money, we could buy so many snacks!" she exclaimed enthusiastically, as if 56 million yen had been created solely to satisfy her appetite.
"You really never change," Rika murmured, the corner of her lips lifting slightly.
"So what are you going to use it for?" Rika continued, her tone more serious this time. She was looking at me now, not at the money.
"Ten million yen will go to the orphanage," I answered without hesitation. The wind brushed a few strands of hair from my face, but my resolve remained steady. "We'll save the rest. Living expenses, training, equipment, and emergencies. Our world is never truly peaceful."
Shizuka fell silent for a moment, likely imagining the mountain of snacks that had just vanished from her fantasies. But then she broke into a wide grin.
"That's a great idea!" she said sincerely.
"But how will you do it?" Rika tilted her head slightly. "If a place like that suddenly receives such a large amount, it'll raise suspicion. An orphanage isn't used to miracles without a source."
"We'll donate it anonymously," I explained. "I'll create a Cursed Tool that can alter my appearance. Not just a thin illusion, but a transformation convincing enough to hold up under close scrutiny. With a new identity, I'll meet Yukina and hand over the money without explaining where it came from."
Rika nodded slowly. "That makes sense. As long as there's nothing traceable."
The evening wind grew cooler. Sunlight shifted into gold, stretching long shadows between the trees. The forest, which had felt like a training ground only moments ago, gradually returned to being a quiet place—almost peaceful.
...
...
...
Some time later, the day's training finally came to an end. The sky had turned a deep orange when we prepared to head back. Fatigue lingered in my muscles, but it wasn't an unpleasant kind.
It felt more like proof.
Proof that the day had not been wasted.
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