The wooden basket pressed slightly into his hands, heavier than it looked at first glance.
The young man adjusted his grip, following the old man who walked ahead without hurry. Every step felt ordinary, yet somehow precise, as if measured by invisible rules.
"…This is definitely not a random task," the young man thought seriously.
In his mind, nothing the old man did was meaningless. A hidden expert would never waste motion. Even silence carried meaning.
He lowered his gaze slightly and observed the old man's footsteps.
They were steady. Not fast. Not slow. Perfectly balanced with the rhythm of the earth itself.
"…Body movement technique," the young man muttered under his breath.
He immediately adjusted his own steps to match.
At first, it felt awkward. His balance was slightly off. The basket swayed.
But slowly, something changed.
The wind around him felt smoother. His breathing became more stable. Even the weight in his hands seemed less oppressive.
"…I'm adapting," he thought with seriousness.
Ahead, the old man suddenly stopped walking.
The young man also stopped immediately, standing straight.
"…Did I make a mistake?" he wondered.
The old man turned his head slightly.
"You're walking very carefully," the old man said casually.
The young man nodded without hesitation.
"I am learning from senior's movement technique."
The old man blinked once.
"…Movement technique?"
"Yes," the young man said firmly. "Every step carries intent. I must not waste it."
The old man looked at him for a moment, then sighed lightly.
"I was just walking home."
The young man froze.
But only for a second.
Then his eyes sharpened.
"…As expected of a true master. Even walking has returned to simplicity."
The old man shook his head but said nothing further.
They continued walking.
This time, the young man focused even more.
Every step became deliberate. Every breath measured.
And strangely—
his body began to feel lighter.
Not stronger.
Not faster.
But more… aligned.
As if something inside him was slowly settling into place.
When they finally arrived at a small wooden house, the sun was already slightly lower in the sky.
The old man placed the basket down.
"You can rest here."
The young man immediately shook his head.
"No, senior. I am still cultivating."
The old man paused.
"…Sure."
He entered the house.
The young man remained outside, standing straight, continuing his "training" under the fading light.
And somewhere deep within his body—
something quietly shifted, without him noticing.