It had been two days since Jin and Ruan left Fireroot Village.
The days blurred together beneath the sun's relentless gaze, a world of vast plains, hills, and thick forests that stretched beyond sight. The air here felt different — fresher, almost. A cool breeze filtered through the high branches of towering pine trees, their deep green needles shimmering as the wind tugged at them. Yet despite the beauty of the natural landscape, Jin's mind was elsewhere, filled with nothing but questions.
They had traveled a long stretch of rocky trails that wound around steep cliffs, leaving the village far behind. The further they moved, the more Jin felt the unfamiliar weight of the world pressing in on him — a world that seemed so foreign, despite his vague memories of it.
Ruan, the girl who had been thrust into his company by the old master, was a quiet presence beside him. Her expression was always one of focus, but something was different now. She was still adjusting to the journey, her movements sharp with purpose, but Jin noticed how she kept to herself. Her lips moved slightly at times, as if repeating the forms she'd been practicing over the last month, her fingers flowing in rhythmic motions as though she was constantly preparing herself for another fight, even in the stillness of the road.
Jin had tried to strike up conversations with her, but it was always hard. She spoke words that seemed strange, too fragmented, too fast. It was as if every time she spoke, Jin was hearing something from another world — the tone of her voice clear, but the meaning jumbled and distant. A quick, rhythmic stream of syllables that washed over him without any clarity.
"Ruan…" he said, watching her carefully as she walked ahead, eyes fixed on the path ahead. "What… are you saying?"
She stopped for a moment and turned her head toward him, eyebrows furrowing. The word "what" had come out with more exasperation than intended, and she hadn't quite caught the frustration in Jin's tone.
"Where… you going?" Jin tried again, his words halting as he gestured toward the forward path.
She paused, and for a moment, Jin thought she might explain something, but instead, she just gave him a curt nod, then continued walking.
Her movements were swift, deliberate, as if she was already adjusting to the rhythm of the road, her expression never wavering. It wasn't the first time she'd left him behind in her own world of training.
But that was fine. Jin wasn't concerned about it. He wasn't in a hurry. Besides, the world around them was too distracting for him to focus on anything else.
The Wilds Beyond the Village
The deeper they went into the countryside, the more Jin found himself amazed by the vastness of it all.
The trees grew larger here, and the air was rich with scents of pine, earth, and distant rain. The forest felt ancient, as though it had stood longer than the stories and people who now passed through it. Strange birds with bright plumage fluttered through the canopy, calling out in loud, melodic tones. Jin watched them for hours, fascinated by the colors and the patterns of the creatures.
At one point, they passed a small creek where the water ran clear over smooth stones, creating a soft, tinkling sound that resonated through the silence of the landscape. There, Jin knelt to dip his hand in the water, and as he did, he spotted something flicker beneath the surface — a fish, silver with streaks of iridescent green that seemed to glow in the sunlight. His eyes widened with a sense of wonder.
"Do you see that?" he asked, turning to Ruan.
She didn't even glance over, but instead continued on ahead, focusing on the path. Jin frowned, but he wasn't angry. It was just... she was different. Focused. Uninterested in the world in the way he found it fascinating.
As they continued, Jin marveled at the diversity of the animals they encountered. He spotted herds of strange, woolly creatures with long, flowing hair that wandered lazily in the distance. He'd seen them in the old master's books, but seeing them in person was entirely different — the sheer scale of their presence was enough to make him stop and stare.
"Big..." Jin muttered under his breath.
A shadow passed overhead, and Jin looked up in time to see a large bird of prey circling lazily above them. Its wingspan was enormous, and its talons were like iron.
He had never seen anything like this before. Not in his village, not in any of the scattered memories he could grasp.
Setting Camp
By evening, the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky with hues of crimson and amber. The coolness of the evening started to creep in as the shadows of the trees grew long and dark.
Jin had never set up camp before, but somehow he managed to find the necessary materials for a fire: dry wood, branches, some flammable leaves. The campfire crackled to life, sending flickers of orange light dancing over their modest campsite. He worked quickly, muttering under his breath, occasionally glancing at Ruan as she found a spot on the edge of the clearing.
She was training again. It wasn't a surprise. Her movements were deliberate, steady, as she flowed through a series of forms, hands slicing through the air as if cutting invisible enemies, feet shifting in tight, controlled steps.
Jin sat cross-legged by the fire, watching her for a while. When he noticed her attention on the movement of her body, he couldn't help but wonder how long she had been practicing. How long had she been so driven?
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he broke the silence.
"You know… I've been thinking."
Ruan didn't respond. Her eyes stayed forward, her hands shifting through another series of movements, but Jin wasn't discouraged. He had become used to her silence by now.
"I never asked you… where you're from. Or why you train like that." He paused, glancing at her in the soft light. "You don't talk much."
At that, Ruan stopped. She slowly turned her head to look at him, her gaze lingering for a moment. Jin swore there was a flicker of something in her eyes — something almost soft.
But then, like it was a mere trick of the light, her focus shifted back to her movements. "Training... It is the only thing I know," she said, her voice quiet but firm, a low hum beneath each word.
Jin blinked, trying to piece it together. "But what is it? The style you're practicing. How did you come to learn it?"
Ruan lowered her hands for a moment and glanced at him, her lips pressed into a thin line. She didn't speak, but the look in her eyes was enough. There was something about the way she carried herself — an intensity that said there was more to her story than she was willing to share.
"I see…" Jin muttered, his mind racing as he watched the fire crackle between them. The warmth of the flames didn't seem to reach the odd distance that hung between them, a distance that Ruan had built with her silence, her focus.
But Jin had no choice but to let the silence sit between them. He'd learned that much. Sometimes words were just noise. In moments like this, there was only the night, the fire, and the weight of their shared solitude.
Eventually, the fire grew dim, and the stars overhead stretched out like a blanket, endless and glittering. Jin lay back on the ground, staring up at the dark sky, letting the cool night air wash over him.
"Tomorrow, we move on," he said quietly, not expecting an answer.
But Ruan, her back still turned, spoke just before the night fully swallowed her words.
"Tomorrow," she agreed.
And with that, the night fell silent again.