Ryu had gazed upon the future queen of the martial world.And she had seen him too.
The excitement from the tournament still lingered in the air like static electricity crackling through hallways, whispering in conversations, woven into every sideways glance. Kalavan had officially taken second place, but all eyes and all talk were on the unexpected victor: the Princess of Ayon, now known across campus as the Silver Phoenix. Her identity had stunned the academy, but her sheer martial mastery had earned her a reverence that not even royalty alone could command.
Two days passed in a blur. Ryu spent most of it buried in his notes, replaying the matches in his mind like a sacred ritual. He refined diagrams, analysed angles of impact, and rewatched snippets of recorded fights on his old tablet. His current obsession was the Roaring Thunder technique, a blend of grounded force and spiralled energy that he was convinced had roots in a lost ancient style.
He had barely slept, but he didn't mind.
The morning of the field trip came with an early chill. Ryu walked toward the academy's main building just after sunrise, his sketchbook tucked carefully into his satchel and a chipped thermal flask of lukewarm tea in hand. The scent was more metallic than soothing, but it helped calm his nerves.
He hadn't expected much. Maybe thirty students, a few instructors. Quiet, easy.
Instead, he walked into a sea of people.
Students clogged the courtyard, their chatter overlapping like waves. Some posed for selfies, others whispered excitedly in small circles. A few were even live-streaming. Ryu blinked and adjusted the strap of his satchel.
"What the…" he murmured.
A familiar voice snuck up behind him. "Bro, did we accidentally sign up for a royal parade?"
Soka — hair messily spiked, scarf wrapped lazily around his neck, grinned as he popped into view. "I thought this was supposed to be a nerd trip to dusty ruins. You know, like cursed stones and awkward flirting with ancient ghosts. What the hell happened?"
Ryu shrugged, then froze as the crowd shifted.
At the edge of the lot, surrounded by a respectful buffer enforced by a few academy guards, stood her. Princess Yan Phoenix. Her silver hair glimmering in the morning light like frost under sun. She wore the academy's travel uniform, but somehow it looked regal, tailored for her alone. Her expression was unreadable, the calm of someone who has undergone scrutiny her whole life.
Next to her stood Kalavan, his posture unyielding, guarding the princess. His gaze swept the area with quiet alertness, less annoyed now, more practiced. Ryu noticed the way his shoulders adjusted every few moments, like someone trained to anticipate threats.
"Does she even need guards?" Ryu murmured, watching her shift her weight with subtle confidence. She was magnetic, untouchable. The guards were almost decorative.
"Think I've got a shot?" Soka whispered, nudging him with a wink.
"Not even slightly."
"Fair enough. I'd fold the moment she looked at me."
Ryu didn't respond. He was already zoning out studying her stance, her body language, the way she interacted without speaking. Even now, she held the rhythm of a fighter.
Eventually, instructors arrived and called for order. Out of the hundred gathered, only thirty-two had signed up for the ruins expedition. The rest were simply there to bask in the Silver Phoenix's presence.
Once order was restored, the actual attendees were directed to the waiting bus. It was a long, wide vehicle with fifty seats, clearly reserved ahead of time. Most students filed in talking loudly, some still buzzing about the tournament.
Ryu slipped inside quietly, claiming a window seat about three-quarters down the aisle. He opened his notebook and resumed his notes from the night before. The chaos of the crowd faded behind him. Diagrams bloomed on the page of fighter's strike paths, weight shifts, and redirected momentum. His pen moved fast, and his back hunched instinctively.
This was where he lived... on paper, inside forms and technique theory.
He didn't notice her approaching.
"Is this seat taken?"
Ryu looked up mid-sentence and nearly dropped his pen.
It wasn't anyone he expected.
It was her.
Princess Yan stood beside him, one hand resting casually on the headrest. Her eyes held a subtle gleam, like moonlight over steel. She looked composed but… curious?
His mouth opened, then closed. "N-no," he said quickly, dragging his bag off the adjacent seat.
She sat with practiced grace, folding her arms loosely and glancing sideways at his open notebook.
"I saw you sketching during the tournament," she said, her voice soft but clear. "You're… very focused."
He blinked.
"May I look?"
"I… it's just personal stuff," he muttered, already shifting the book closer to his chest.
She leaned slightly closer. "Personal? I think I saw a familiar face in there. Silver hair… might've been me."
His heart attempted an emergency exit through his throat.
"That was — it's not a portrait!" he stammered. "It's just a reference. A visual cue. For… the Roaring Thunder stance."
She laughed. Not a sharp, diplomatic laugh, but a real one, soft and unguarded. "If you didn't want me to see it, you could've just said no."
Ryu's face burned red. The worst part wasn't that she was teasing him. It was that she wasn't cruel about it. She was kind. Somehow that made it even harder to breathe.
With a resigned sigh, he handed her the notebook.
She flipped through the pages slowly. First came the technical notes, rotational forces, power maps, weight anchors. Her eyes moved methodically, and Ryu watched her brows raise in surprise more than once.
Then she reached the drawing.
It wasn't just a sketch. It was her, captured mid-technique, hair caught in the wind, eyes burning with the focus of battle. The lines weren't perfect, but the feeling was. Movement frozen in ink.
She stared at it longer than he expected.
"…Did you really draw this?" she asked quietly.
"I did," he said, suddenly feeling awkwardly sober. "I didn't plan to. It just… happened."
She continued staring. Then finally, softly, she said, "It's beautiful."
Ryu sat still, unsure what to do with his hands.
"You caught everything," she continued. "The movement, the tension… even the wind."
She closed the notebook and rested her hand gently atop it.
"Can I keep it?"
Ryu hesitated. That sketch had taken hours. It was personal. But the way she asked, the way she held it as if it meant something…
"Yeah," he said finally. "Of course."
She accepted it almost ceremonially. Then she gave him a half-smile, soft and honest.
"I guess that means I owe you a favour," she said as she stood. "Try to remember that."
She returned to her bench seat in the back. The notebook, his notebook, was still cradled in her hands.
Ryu sat frozen, his brain short-circuiting, I thought she was only taking the one page, thinking to himself. Around him, a few students whispered, some glaring daggers of envy. Soka even popped his head up with a shocked smile, then giving a wink to Ryu in a comical sense, even flabbergasted himself.
But Ryu barely noticed. His heart was still stuck in that moment, her words, her smile, her closeness.
The bus rolled forward, engine humming softly. Conversations thinned as the city gave way to countryside fields, ridges, and misty valleys drifting past.
But Ryu saw none of it.
He saw her.
The gravel drive crunched under the wheels as the bus finally slowed to a stop.
Ryu stepped off into clean mountain air. The view stole his breath.
The hotel was built in traditional style, nestled gently against the base of a forested ridge. Flowering trees surrounded the grounds, and the hills glowed with morning light on fresh grass. In the distance, steam curled from rocky vents and drifted lazily skyward.
The landscape felt serene, sacred, even. Rumours circulated that this place had once been a convergence point for world spirit lines. Though sealed long ago, some whispered that fragments of spiritual energy still leaked into the land on occasion, enriching the soil, cleansing the air, and giving the area a mysterious vitality.
Ryu stood still for a moment letting it wash over him. There was something ancient in the air. A kind of stillness that made you instinctively speak softer and breathe slower.
The others began filing inside through the inn's sliding wooden doors, their voices echoing off the courtyard stones. A large wooden sign hung near the check-in desk, carved with delicate strokes, but Ryu barely noticed it.
His eyes flicked back towards the bus.
She was still seated inside, head tilted slightly, looking down at his sketchbook. A ghost of a smile played on her lips.
He didn't know what it meant.
Just as Ryu stepped into the wooden foyer, a wave of warmth hit him, the comforting scent of cedar and steamed mineral water lingered in the air. His eyes drifted to the large sign above the front desk, its lettering carved cleanly into a polished plank of reddish wood:
"Natural Hot Spring Baths – Male and Female Sections Open Until Midnight."
There was a beat of silence.
Then a gasp. "Oh my gods, there's a hot spring!" one of the girls squealed, practically bouncing in place.
A chorus of excitement followed, several students pulling out their phones to snap pictures or send messages to their friends. The energy in the air shifted instantly from awe to giddy enthusiasm.