The afternoon sun spilled across the courtyard, painting the dirt in shades of gold.
Magnus stood barefoot, his small fists raw from striking the wooden post again and again. Sweat trickled down his temples, his chest rising and falling as he forced his frail body through motions far too advanced for a child his age.
From the fence, Darius watched with a crooked grin, his arms folded casually. Taller, broad-shouldered, already showing the promise of a Marine in training, he carried himself with an easy confidence Magnus both studied and envied.
"You're gonna break your hands before you ever land a proper hit," Darius called, amusement flickering in his voice.
Magnus turned, his dark eyes steady. "Spar with me."
Darius blinked, then laughed, tossing his wooden practice sword into the air and catching it with one hand. "You? With those little twigs you call arms? You won't even last a swing."
Magnus didn't waver. "Fight me, Darius."
Something in the boy's voice was calm, sharp, unshaken that made Darius pause. Then he grinned wider. "Fine. But don't go running to Mother when I knock you flat."
He stepped into the yard, twirling the wooden blade lazily, his grin playful but his eyes curious. Magnus dropped into a clumsy stance, his body too small to mimic what he had studied. But inside, he focused on more than the weapon in Darius's hand.
Not the blade. Not the sound. The intent.
Darius lunged, swinging lightly, more teasing than serious. But in that instant, time shifted. Magnus felt it the tightening of Darius's shoulder, the faint pull of will behind the strike. The attack hadn't yet landed, but Magnus knew where it would.
He moved.
A sidestep sharp, precise. The wooden blade cut nothing but empty air.
Darius stumbled, caught off guard, just as Magnus slipped past him and tapped his ribs with a small fist. The strike was weak, harmless, but its meaning rang louder than any blow.
Silence.
Then Darius threw back his head and laughed. "Magnus! You sly little brat you dodged me! You actually read me!"
Magnus wiped his brow, his face composed, though his pulse still thundered in his chest. He looked up at his brother, meeting his gaze evenly. "You're too easy to read, Darius."
Darius froze for a heartbeat, then burst into louder laughter, clutching his side. "Too easy to read, huh? Don't get cocky! Next time, I'll make sure you can't see it coming."
Magnus allowed himself the faintest smirk, his voice quiet but clear. "Then I'll dodge that too."
The wooden sword hung at Darius's side as he grinned down at his little brother, both proud and bemused. He ruffled Magnus's hair before striding back toward the house, muttering about training harder himself.
Left alone in the fading sunlight, Magnus flexed his small hands, remembering the sensation that invisible pull, that whisper of intent.
Observation Haki… I finally touched it. And next time, I'll hold onto it longer.
The first step had been taken.