Month: May
Year: X772
Age: Kaito – 7
Age: Erza – 7
---
Erza had learned, over the years, that strength left traces.
Not the obvious kind—the bruises, the calluses, the ache in the shoulders after a long day—but the quieter ones. The kind that settled into habits. Into the way someone stood, breathed, or chose silence instead of complaint.
She noticed those things now more than ever.
Sitting on the low fence at the edge of the training ground, Erza watched Kaito move through his morning routine. She didn't interrupt. She rarely did anymore.
He was seven now.
That fact still felt strange when she thought about it too hard.
---
When they were younger—five, maybe six—everything had been louder.
Training had been clumsy. Movements exaggerated. Mistakes obvious. Kaito had still been strong then—stronger than anyone their age had a right to be—but it had been unpolished. Raw.
Back then, Erza remembered correcting him constantly.
"Your stance is wrong."
"You're overreaching."
"Again."
He had listened. Always. Not with resentment, not with pride—but with focus. That alone had made her take him seriously.
---
Now, she rarely needed to speak.
Watching him train in the quiet morning light, Erza crossed her arms, brow furrowing slightly. His movements were smaller than before, tighter. Less waste. Less noise.
She recognized that kind of change.
It wasn't talent.
It was time.
---
Her gaze drifted, unbidden, to the forest beyond the village.
She remembered their early hunts—the hesitation before entering deeper paths, the way she'd tensed at every unfamiliar sound. She hadn't been weak then. But she'd been cautious.
Kaito hadn't rushed her.
He'd adjusted his pace without comment, choosing prey that matched her comfort, not his ability. At the time, she'd told herself it was practical.
Now, older, she knew better.
---
The years hadn't passed quickly.
They had passed steadily.
Days layered over days. Training bleeding into hunting. Meals into rest. Small arguments. Small victories. Repetition so consistent it became invisible.
Erza flexed her fingers, remembering how her grip had changed. How her stamina had grown. How recovery came faster now than it used to.
She hadn't asked how.
She didn't need to.
---
Kaito finished his set and straightened, wiping sweat from his brow. He glanced toward her without surprise, as if he'd known she was watching all along.
"You're staring," he said lightly.
She huffed. "You're distracting."
He smiled at that.
Not smug. Just warm.
---
Erza hopped down from the fence, landing easily. Years ago, the drop would have jarred her knees.
Now, it didn't.
"Run," she said, already tightening the straps on her weights.
"Again?"
"Unless you're tired."
His grin sharpened. "You wish."
---
As they headed toward the forest path, Erza felt something settle in her chest.
The past wasn't gone.
It lived in her balance. In her strength. In the way she trusted the ground beneath her feet.
And beside her, matching her stride without effort, was proof of every year that had mattered.
---