After Ryouma accepted Toshi as his subordinate, the atmosphere in the training ground shifted.
The soldiers, who had spent the morning stealing glances at the young master, no longer bothered to hide their stares. Their eyes held no ridicule or doubt anymore - only curiosity, and perhaps a faint spark of respect.
Ryouma felt the weight of that change, though his face remained calm. So even the loyalty of one soldier can stir the hearts of many….. interesting. He flexed his sore arms, the faint burn of exertion still clinging to his muscles, and rose from the shade.
"Toshi," he said evenly, "from now on, you'll train with me. Not as a servant but as my sparring partner."
Toshi's eyes widened at the unexpected words. A heartbeat later, he bowed deeply.
"Understood, Young Master"
From that day forward, the two began a new routine. Ryouma pushed his frail body beyond its limits, while Toshi corrected his stance, adjusted his sword grip, and sometimes struck without warning to test his focus.
The sharp clack of wood against wood echoed through the courtyard, drawing more soldiers with each passing day.
Whispers soon spread.
"Is he really the young master? He trains harder than we do….."
"If this continues, he might even surpass the knights one day…..."
Ryouma ignored their murmurs. To him, this was only the beginning. If his body could not endure, his future would collapse before it even began.
And yet, he could not deny it - having someone like Toshi by his side made the burden feel just a little lighter.
From the veranda, Lady Akane had been quietly observing. Day after day, her gaze wandered toward the training yard, where Ryouma's small frame moved tirelessly. Even when others collapsed to rest, he ran until his legs trembled, swung the wooden sword until his arms shook, and carried a discipline far beyond his age.
Is this truly the same boy? she wondered, her thoughts heavy. Only a short while ago, Ryouma had been nothing more than a playful child _ laughing, chasing his siblings, caring little for responsibility. Games had been his only world then.
Yet now- this relentless determination, this cold focus-it was as if he had become someone else entirely.
What unsettled her more was the manor itself. The same servants who once whispered and mocked behind her back now lowered their heads the instant she appeared. Not respect-fear. The silence in the halls felt heavy, unnatural.
Akane's chest tightened as her gaze lingered on Ryouma's figure. What has happened to him? His sudden change, his commanding aura, the servants' trembling obedience….. somehow, everything was connected.
But the truth still lay hidden in shadows.
The training ground had grown familiar with the sharp rhythm of wooden swords clashing. Each morning, without fail, Ryouma pressed himself harder than the day before. His small frame dripped with sweat, his breath came in steady bursts, yet his eyes shone with a determination far too intense for a child of his age.
From a shaded veranda, Lady Akane often found herself watching him. It was strange almost unsettling. Could this truly be the same boy who, not long ago, spent his days chasing after his siblings, laughing until his voice cracked, with no greater concern than what game to play next? That carefree boy seemed to have vanished, replaced by someone who stood unflinching beneath the weight of Toshi's relentless drills.
And yet…..when Ryouma returned from training, no trace of coldness lingered in his gaze. His smile was still warm, his laugh still genuine. He would hold his mother's hand, nestle close to her side, and look up at her with the same affection as always. Because of that, Lady Akane struggled to accept what her eyes insisted-her son was changing.
But the manor whispered the truth in its silence. Servants no longer spoke freely in corners, no longer let their eyes linger with casual disrespect. The moment Lady Akane appeared, their faces stiffened, their gazes fell, and their footsteps quickened as if in fear. The shift unsettled her heart, though Ryouma's smile told her otherwise. Something beneath the surface had changed, and she could no longer ignore it.
On the training field, that change only became clearer. Yui and Hana, his personal maids, often carried water and simple meals to the grounds, ensuring both Ryouma and Toshi remained strong throughout their sessions. They too were quietly astonished at the boy's tireless resolve.
Toshi, however, was astonished for reasons of his own. Every stance he demonstrated, every strike, every subtle lesson in balancing and channeling ki _Ryouma absorbed instantly. What should have taken weeks of repetition to refine, the boy could mimic within days.
It was no ordinary talent. Something unseen guided him, as if an invisible hand sharpened his instincts. Deep within, fragments of another life stirred-memories that lent strength to his sword arm, discipline to his breath, and clarity to his spirit. Ryouma himself could not name it, nor did he truly understand. Yet unknowingly, those echoes of a past existence propelled him forward, transforming raw potential into frightening mastery at a pace that defied reason.
One day, as Ryouma trained relentlessly under the morning sun, Lady Akane quietly approached the courtyard, her steps tentative. She had heard the rhythmic clash of wooden swords and the soft thud of feet striking the ground from a distance_but today, something compelled her to see him for herself.
From a nearby room, a hushed voice drifted out, carrying a weight that made her pause.
"Tell me…..what do you think of Young Master ? I still remember those cold eyes, that warning, that threat….. The boy you see now is not the same. Even with a smile, his eyes speak volumes. The way he moves, the way he commands….. that menacing presence…..it's truly terrifying."
Lady Akane's hand trembled slightly, sweat beading along her brow. Her thoughts flew back to that day at the sacred temple_the memory of a single, unyielding gaze that had cut through her like ice. Fear, guilt, and worry twisted together within her chest.
"Did I fail him?" she whispered inwardly. "Why did he come to this? If he remains like that..… perhaps I should not face that gaze again. But….. can fate really be altered?"
As if sensing her presence, Ryouma finished the last of his drills and turned toward her. Eyes brightened with recognition, and his clear, youthful voice rang out across the courtyard.
"Mother!"
He ran forward, arms outstretched, and dove into her embrace.
Lady Akane forced aside the storm of her thoughts, welcoming the small, warm weight of her son against her chest. A genuine smile spread across her face, filling the space between them with light and warmth.
Yet, even as she held him close, a shadow lingered in her heart.
"Is this truly his warm side..… or an illusion?" she wondered. "That cold gaze, that menacing presence I saw at the temple…... is that also part of him? If both exist within him...… which Ryouma is the real one?"
For a brief moment, the courtyard held only their shared warmth and the quiet tension of uncertainty, the duality of the child before her weighing heavily in her mind.
Days passed, and Ryouma's training grew ever more relentless. Each morning, the young master pushed his small body harder, testing limits that no child of seven should dare. Every swing of the wooden sword, every measured stride across the courtyard, carried an intensity that seemed to cut through the very air, sharp and unyielding.
From the veranda, Lady Akane watched him in quiet apprehension. With each passing day, a gnawing worry grew in her chest. How can I guide him to strength without letting that cold, menacing side take root? How do I nurture him without losing the warmth of the child I once knew?
Her thoughts twisted and turned, pressed by the weight of his discipline and the shadow of relentless determination that lingered behind his eyes. Every cautious step she took, every silent sigh, reminded her that any wrong word or hurried decision could push Ryouma closer to that dangerous edge he now walked.
Yet she would not speak of her fears to Lord Hanzou. Political tensions, the ever-watchful eyes of neighboring lords, and the ongoing strain of Velvaran's affairs had already worn him thin. She could not burden him further with worries about their son. This was a weight she would bear alone, silently, steadily.
Each glance at Ryouma reminded her of the delicate balance she must maintain: a child, yet something far beyond ordinary, something teetering between innocence and the edge of a power that was frightening in its potential. And with each disciplined swing of the sword, each precise step across the training ground, her concern deepened, mingling with a fragile hope_that perhaps, just perhaps, she could guide him safely through the shadows lingering in his young heart.
The mornings had grown cooler, yet the heat of exertion on the training ground never lessened. Day after day, Ryouma pressed himself with relentless determination. Each swing of the wooden sword, every labored stride along the running course, spoke of a discipline far beyond his years. Sweat beaded along his small frame, arms trembling with exertion, but his eyes burned with unwavering focus.
From the veranda, Lady Akane watched him silently. The playful boy who once ran through the manor chasing his siblings, laughing without a care, was gone from the training field. In his place moved a figure of precision: every motion calculated, every breath measured, every strike deliberate. Hands that once clutched toys now gripped the sword as if forged for it.
Yet when he returned to her side, warmth remained. He would take her hand gently, bow his head, and speak with the playful, tender tone she remembered. That juxtaposition_unyielding discipline on the field, soft affection at home_made her chest ache. The boy she knew was still there, buried beneath layers of instinct, training, and an emerging, chilling authority.
Even the manor seemed to recognize the change. Servants who once whispered behind her back now straightened at her approach, pale faces betraying quiet fear. Each step in the halls sounded heavier, as if the building itself acknowledged Ryouma's growing presence. Lady Akane's chest tightened with unease. What is happening to him? How far will this go before it consumes the boy I know?
On the training field, Toshi observed with awe. Each lesson in stance, grip, or balance was absorbed instantly. Movements that should have taken weeks to master were learned in days. The fluidity of his swings, the subtle shifts in body weight and mana control, each adjustment executed with a precision that seemed impossible for someone so young.
"He learns faster than anyone I have ever trained," Toshi murmured under his breath, careful not to disrupt the rhythm. "It's….. almost unnatural."
Ryouma, however, hardly noticed. He moved as though guided by an unseen hand, instincts echoing from a life long past. Memories that he could not consciously recall sharpened every action, every decision, every swing of the sword.
From her vantage point, Lady Akane could only watch, torn between pride and fear. The memory of that cold, unyielding face at the sacred temple haunted her_the weight of menace that once seemed insurmountable now flickered in Ryouma's eyes on the field, softened only when he turned toward her with a reassuring smile.
Her lips pressed tightly together. "How do I guide him..… without breaking him, and without letting that..… darkness take hold?" she whispered.
Ryouma paused briefly to drink water offered by Yui and Hana. Their eyes met, and for a fleeting heartbeat, the child in him shone fully. He waved simply, a smile lighting his features, and Lady Akane's heart swelled with conflicting emotions. She saw both the leader he might become and the child she had nurtured_the balance between potential and innocence hanging precariously.
The clash of wooden swords resumed, echoing sharply across the courtyard. Toshi nodded quietly, awe-struck. "Yes….. he is changing, evolving… faster than anyone could expect."
And above the training ground, Lady Akane whispered a silent prayer, hoping that whatever path Ryouma carved with his training, it would not come at the cost of the boy she loved.