The courtyard was quieter than usual when Shunya woke. Too quiet. He rolled out of his bunk, stretched, and blinked at the pale morning light. The usual chorus of shouting recruits and clashing practice blades was missing, replaced by muted murmurs.
He stepped outside, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Naomi stood in the yard already, practicing forms alone. Her strikes were sharper than yesterday, each one landing with enough force that the wooden post shuddered.
"Morning," Shunya called.
Naomi did not answer. She pivoted, slashed, and stabbed again.
He tried again. "You are either preparing to kill another cursed wolf or… scaring the post into telling you its secrets."
Finally, Naomi lowered her blade. She wiped sweat from her brow and shot him a look. "Some of us do not waste mornings."
"Right, right," Shunya said. "Because mornings exist to be murdered by training."
