I sat near the center of the boys' side, absent-mindedly twirling a piece of bread in my hands. I could feel Yuna's presence across from me, her seat not too far from my own. Her quiet laughter with the other girls occasionally drifted to my ears, and each time our eyes met by accident, my heart skipped a beat. Yuna would quickly look away, her cheeks tinged with pink, and return her attention to her friends. Still, I couldn't help but notice the subtle shift in her demeanor whenever our gazes connected.
It wasn't like before, when we could easily talk without hesitation. Something had changed. There was an unspoken understanding between us, something that made the air heavier, more tangible.
Yuna's friends noticed it too. Her laughter had become a little more subdued, and her glances toward me were becoming harder to miss. As the group of girls continued chatting, one of them leaned toward Yuna, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
"So, Yuna," she said in a teasing tone, her voice light and playful.
"I couldn't help but notice you seem to have a certain... interest in Tatsuo this morning."
Yuna's face immediately turned bright red. She froze, her hand pausing in mid-air as she reached for her drink. "W-What do you mean?" she stammered, her voice a little too high-pitched for her usual calm demeanor.
"Oh, come on!" another girl chimed in, grinning widely.
"You were practically staring at him, and every time he looked over here, you'd look away! Are you two, like, talking now?"
The girls around her giggled, and Yuna shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She quickly glanced at me, but I wasn't looking at her this time. Instead, I focused on my plate, trying to keep my expression neutral, even though my mind was buzzing with everything I'd just overheard.
"I...I'm not talking to him like that!" Yuna protested, her voice wavering slightly as she tried to brush off the teasing.
"It's just... it's nothing!"
The girls didn't seem convinced. "Uh-huh, sure," one of them said with a grin.
"You're blushing too much to be saying nothing."
Yuna's face burned, and she grabbed her drink, trying to hide behind it. "I'm not blushing," she muttered, though the rosy color on her cheeks suggested otherwise.
The teasing continued for a little while longer, but eventually, Yuna's friends let up, their laughter subsiding as they returned to their conversation. But even as they moved on, the weight of their words lingered in the air.
I felt it too. Even though I hadn't been part of the exchange, I was still acutely aware of the energy between us. My mind felt strangely cluttered, and though I was used to keeping my distance from people, Yuna's presence felt different now. I wasn't sure if I should say something, but my thoughts were clouded with uncertainty.
I glanced up briefly, catching Yuna's eyes once more. This time, she didn't look away immediately. Instead, there was a moment of silence, a shared understanding passing between us.
I opened my mouth to say something, but the sound of Sister Mari's voice calling from the kitchen interrupted me.
"Breakfast is served, everyone! Come and get it!" she called cheerfully.
The children scrambled to get their food, and the room once again became filled with noise and chatter. But even as we all settled into our seats, I couldn't shake the silent connection between us, the weight of the unspoken words hanging in the air, something neither of us could quite put into words yet.
I took a deep breath, my hands still gripping the piece of bread as if the motion would ground me. I glanced at Yuna one last time, catching her looking at me out of the corner of her eye. Neither of us spoke, but for the first time in a long while, it felt like we were on the same page, unspoken, but understood.
As breakfast continued and the children ate, I couldn't help but feel that something had shifted, something quiet, something delicate. It wasn't the storm of emotions I had known in my past life, but a subtle, almost peaceful weight. The kind that could change everything.
When the final bites of breakfast were consumed and the plates were cleared away, Sister Mari stood up from her seat with a warm smile.
"Alright, everyone!" she called out, her voice carrying through the room.
"You have a couple of hours of free time before class starts. Enjoy yourselves, and be back here in time for the lesson!"
The children cheered and quickly scattered, eager to take advantage of their precious free time. The boys gathered in small groups, some heading toward the flower fields while others made their way to the market to browse. Laughter and the sound of footsteps filled the air as they dispersed, each going off to their favorite spots.
I stood up quietly, slipping away from the table before anyone could notice. I needed some space to clear my head, and there was only one place where I could truly do that: the old training grounds.
As I made my way down the familiar path, my thoughts were cluttered. It was strange, feeling so off-balance just from a few looks. I was supposed to be better than this, stronger than this. Yet, Yuna's presence had a way of disarming me.
Meanwhile, back at the table, I knew Yuna was watching me leave. I could feel her gaze, even if I didn't look back. Her friends must've noticed too because I heard their playful teasing echo softly as I walked away.
"Going somewhere, Yuna?" one of the girls teased, a playful glint in her eyes.
I could imagine Yuna's flustered expression, even without turning around.
"I...I have to go do something," she stammered.
"Oh, we see. Tatsuo's heading off on his own, isn't he?" one of them said, clearly enjoying the situation.
I smirked, shaking my head. They were too easy to read.
"Go on, Yuna!" another girl encouraged with a wink.
"This is your chance to spend time with him alone! Don't miss it!"
I heard Yuna's hesitant footsteps behind me, faint but growing closer. She was following me. I wasn't sure why that made my heart race.
By the time I reached the old training grounds, my mind was a little clearer. The familiar clearing stretched out before me, weathered wooden dummies standing in place, scarred from countless battles. I let out a quiet sigh, glad to be somewhere familiar.
This place was mine. It was a sanctuary, a space where I didn't have to worry about the burdens of my past life or the complexities of this one.
I moved into position, my body instinctively slipping into the rhythmic flow of combat as my mind cleared. Strike. Block. Pivot. My body moved on autopilot, the motions so familiar that they felt like second nature.
Yet, even as I struck at the training dummies, I couldn't ignore the feeling of being watched. The hairs on the back of my neck prickled, a sense of deja vu washing over me. I scanned the area, my eyes flicking to the bushes, the trees, every shadow. But there was no sign of the figure I had seen before.
I shook off the unease, refocusing on my training. The movements became more intense, my strikes faster, more precise. I wasn't just practicing, I was fighting the ghosts of my past, the weight of my failures, the lingering memories of battles long lost.
But then, just as I was getting into the flow, a soft crunch of footsteps echoed behind me. I froze mid-strike, my senses on high alert. I turned slowly, ready for a fight, but my guard dropped when I saw her.
Yuna stood at the edge of the clearing, a little out of breath. Her cheeks were flushed, probably from following me all this way.
"I thought you might show up," I said, keeping my voice steady even though I was a little surprised. I hadn't expected her to follow me, but at the same time, I wasn't shocked either. She had been paying more attention to me lately, and I couldn't figure out why.
"What brings you here?" I asked, crossing my arms as I leaned back against one of the wooden dummies.
Yuna smiled slightly, her cheeks still tinged pink.
"I...I just thought I'd join you. You always go off on your own, and I... I wanted to see how you train."
I raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk playing at my lips.
"Curious, huh?"
Her face grew redder.
"It's not like that! I just... I just wanted to learn. I want to get stronger, too."
I looked at her for a long moment. Ever since the vampire incident, something had changed in her. She had always been kind and determined, but now there was a newfound resolve in her eyes. She didn't want to stand behind me; she wanted to stand beside me.
I respected that.
"Well," I said, stepping aside as I gestured toward the training dummies.
"If you're here, you might as well join in. You can practice too. You're getting better with that dagger of yours, right?"
Her eyes lit up at the challenge, and a small, genuine smile spread across her face.
"You really think I'm getting better?"
I nodded, walking toward a nearby set of training tools.
"I'm not an expert, but I can see improvement. Just don't get too reckless."
She grinned.
"I won't," she replied, and before I could say anything else, she moved toward one of the dummies, pulling out a dagger from her belt.
I watched her for a moment, my arms crossed as I leaned back. There was a fierceness in her, a drive that reminded me of myself. It made me realize just how much she had changed.
As she continued practicing, I found myself oddly at ease. It was strange, training like this, side by side. In my past life, I had always trained alone, bearing the weight of my destiny in solitude. But now... it didn't feel so heavy.
I watched Yuna's movements, noticing the way she adjusted her stance after each strike. She was focused, determined to get better.
I stepped closer, placing a hand on her shoulder to correct her posture.
"You're too tense. Relax your shoulders. Let the weight of the dagger do the work."
She looked up at me, her eyes wide, and for a moment, neither of us moved. The world felt smaller, quieter, like it was just the two of us in this clearing.
I cleared my throat, stepping back to put some distance between us.
"Keep going. You're doing good."
Yuna's cheeks flushed again, but she nodded, resuming her practice with renewed focus.
I leaned back once more, watching her in silence. Even if I couldn't put it into words, I knew that something had changed between us. It was subtle, delicate, but it was there.
And for now, that was enough.