Morning came earlier than usual for Leo.
Or maybe—
he just didn't sleep properly.
The memory stayed.
That moment.
The one where everything aligned.
Where his body moved at the exact time it needed to.
Not late.
Not forced.
Just—
right.
Leo stood alone on the training ground.
The sky was still pale.
The air quiet.
No noise.
No distractions.
Only him.
And that memory.
He raised his wooden sword.
Slowly.
Carefully.
"…Again."
He imagined it.
An opponent.
A step forward.
A shift in weight.
The moment before the strike.
Leo focused.
He moved.
Late.
The swing cut through empty air.
Leo stopped.
His brows tightened slightly.
"…Not like yesterday."
He tried again.
Focused harder.
The movement.
The timing.
He swung.
Late.
Again.
Silence.
Leo lowered his weapon slightly.
"…Why?"
Yesterday—
he didn't think.
He just moved.
But now—
he was trying.
And it wasn't working.
Footsteps approached.
"…You're early."
Leo turned.
Ryan stood there, stretching his arms.
"…Yeah."
Ryan watched him for a moment.
"…Trying to repeat it?"
Leo didn't answer.
Because he didn't need to.
Ryan gave a small breath.
"…Doesn't work like that."
Leo looked at him.
"…Then how?"
Ryan shrugged.
"…You tell me. You're the one doing weird things."
Leo frowned slightly.
That didn't help.
But maybe—
Ryan was right.
He was trying to repeat it.
Instead of—
finding it.
"…Training starts soon," Ryan said.
"…Don't get stuck here."
Leo nodded.
But his thoughts didn't move.
The training ground filled up quickly.
Trainees moved into position.
Noise returned.
Leo stood among them.
Yesterday—
he felt closer.
Today—
that distance felt back again.
His match was called.
The same trainee stepped forward.
They faced each other.
"…You improved yesterday," the trainee said.
Leo didn't respond.
Because today—
he wasn't sure.
"Begin."
The attack came instantly.
Leo watched.
The shift.
The step.
He moved.
Late.
The strike hit.
His body staggered.
The difference—
was obvious.
Ryan, watching from the side, frowned.
"…He's slower today."
Another trainee nodded.
"…Yesterday looked like luck."
Back on the field—
Leo steadied himself.
Another strike came.
He tried again.
Focused harder.
He moved—
late.
The strike landed again.
Leo fell.
The ground hit harder than usual.
Not because of impact.
But because—
he understood what he lost.
"…Again," Leo said.
The trainee raised an eyebrow.
"…You sure?"
Leo nodded.
"Begin."
The attacks came faster this time.
Leo tried to follow.
But his timing—
was off.
He saw the movements.
But his body—
lagged behind again.
A strike broke through.
Clean.
He fell.
Again.
From the side—
whispers spread.
"…Yesterday was just chance."
"…He's back to normal."
Leo heard it.
This time—
he didn't ignore it.
Because part of him—
agreed.
He stood again.
Slower now.
His breathing uneven.
His grip tighter.
Too tight.
The trainee stepped forward.
"…You're forcing it," he said.
Leo froze slightly.
"…What?"
"…You're trying to make it happen."
A pause.
"…That's why you're late."
Leo's eyes shifted.
Trying—
was making him slower.
"Begin."
The attack came again.
Leo watched.
The shift.
His body reacted—
but hesitated.
Too much thought.
The strike hit.
He stumbled back.
The trainee stopped.
"…Stop thinking so much."
Leo frowned.
"…Then what should I do?"
The trainee looked at him calmly.
"…Do what you did yesterday."
Leo's grip tightened.
"…I don't know how."
Silence.
Then—
"…Exactly."
The trainee stepped back.
"…That's the problem."
The match resumed.
Leo fought.
But not like yesterday.
Not like even this morning.
He was stuck.
Between knowing—
and doing.
Between understanding—
and acting.
Every movement felt delayed.
Every reaction—
forced.
The match ended.
Leo fell one last time.
The dust settled around him.
Silence.
He didn't get up immediately.
Not because he couldn't.
But because—
he didn't want to.
"…Why did it disappear?" he muttered.
No one answered.
Ryan approached slowly.
"…Rough day."
Leo didn't respond.
"…You lost it," Ryan said.
Leo closed his eyes briefly.
"…Yeah."
A pause.
"…Does that mean it wasn't real?" Leo asked quietly.
Ryan hesitated.
Then—
"…No."
Leo opened his eyes.
Ryan continued.
"…It means you don't control it yet."
Silence.
That made sense.
More than anything else.
From a distance—
Kael watched.
"…He touched it too early."
An observer beside him spoke.
"…Then he'll struggle."
Kael nodded.
"…Good."
The training ground slowly emptied.
Leo remained.
Alone.
The same place as yesterday.
But not the same feeling.
He stood there.
Quiet.
Not frustrated.
Not angry.
Just—
thinking.
"…I had it."
The words came softly.
"…And I lost it."
A long silence followed.
Then—
Leo picked up his sword again.
Not with urgency.
Not with desperation.
Just—
calm.
He raised it.
Closed his eyes.
Not trying to force it.
Not trying to recreate it.
Just—
waiting.
For that moment.
Even if it didn't come.
From a distance—
Kael turned away.
"…Now he'll learn."
Because losing it—
was part of understanding it.
Leo swung.
Slow.
Then again.
And again.
Not chasing the moment.
But preparing—
for when it returned.
----------
The morning felt colder than usual.
Or maybe—
Leo just felt it more.
He stood alone on the training ground.
The sky was pale.
The air still.
For a moment—
everything was quiet.
But inside him—
it wasn't.
That moment replayed again.
The one from yesterday.
When everything aligned.
When his body moved at the exact time it needed to.
Not late.
Not forced.
Just—
right.
Leo tightened his grip on the wooden sword.
"…Again."
He raised it slowly.
Imagining the same situation.
An opponent.
A shift.
A step.
The beginning of an attack.
He focused.
And moved.
Late.
The swing cut through empty air.
Leo stopped.
His grip tightened.
"…Not like yesterday."
He tried again.
Slower.
More focused.
Watching for that moment.
He moved.
Late.
Again.
Leo lowered the sword slightly.
"…Why?"
Yesterday—
he didn't try.
He just moved.
Now—
he was trying to recreate it.
And failing.
Footsteps approached.
"…You're early."
Leo turned.
Ryan walked toward him, stretching his arms.
"…Yeah."
Ryan watched him for a moment.
"…Trying to repeat it?"
Leo didn't answer.
Because that was exactly it.
Ryan exhaled.
"…You're thinking too much."
Leo frowned slightly.
"…Then what should I do?"
Ryan shrugged.
"…I don't know."
A pause.
"…But yesterday—you weren't like this."
Leo looked down at his hands.
Yesterday—
he wasn't forcing anything.
"…Training starts," Ryan said.
"…Come."
Leo nodded.
But his thoughts didn't settle.
The training ground filled quickly.
Voices returned.
Wood clashed again.
Everything felt normal.
Except—
Leo.
His match was called.
He stepped forward.
The same trainee stood waiting.
Calm.
Steady.
"…You came back," the trainee said.
Leo nodded.
"…Yeah."
The trainee studied him carefully.
"…You don't feel the same."
Leo didn't respond.
Because he knew.
"Begin."
The attack came immediately.
Leo watched.
The shift.
The step.
He moved.
Late.
The strike hit.
His body staggered.
The difference was obvious.
Ryan frowned from the side.
"…He's slower today."
Another trainee spoke quietly.
"…Yesterday was luck."
Leo heard it.
And this time—
it stayed.
Another strike came.
Leo tried again.
Focused harder.
Too hard.
He hesitated—
just slightly.
The strike landed clean.
He fell.
Dust rose around him.
Leo stayed still for a moment.
His chest rising and falling heavily.
"…Again," he said.
The trainee raised an eyebrow.
"…You sure?"
Leo nodded.
"Begin."
The attacks came faster now.
More pressure.
Leo tried to follow.
But something was wrong.
He could see it.
He understood the movement.
But his body—
was slower.
A step.
Too late.
A strike.
Too late.
Another.
Too late.
The pattern repeated.
Again.
And again.
Until—
he fell.
Hard.
From the side—
voices rose.
"…He's back to normal."
"…Nothing special."
Leo clenched his hand slightly.
Because part of him—
agreed.
He stood again.
His breathing uneven.
His arms heavy.
But his mind—
was stuck.
Trying to find something—
that wasn't there anymore.
The trainee stepped closer.
"…You're forcing it," he said calmly.
Leo looked at him.
"…What?"
"…You're trying to make that moment happen."
A pause.
"…That's why you're late."
Leo's eyes shifted.
Trying—
was slowing him down.
"Begin."
The attack came again.
Leo watched.
The shift.
His body reacted—
but hesitated.
Just a fraction.
Enough.
The strike hit.
He stumbled back.
The trainee stopped.
"…Stop chasing it."
Leo frowned.
"…Then what do I do?"
The trainee looked at him quietly.
"…Let it happen."
Leo's grip tightened.
"…I don't know how."
The trainee turned away slightly.
"…Exactly."
The match continued.
Leo fought.
But everything felt off.
Unnatural.
Forced.
He wasn't flowing.
He was chasing.
And falling behind.
The match ended.
Leo fell one last time.
The ground felt heavier now.
Not because of pain.
But because—
he understood what he lost.
He didn't get up immediately.
He stared at the sky.
"…Why did it disappear?" he whispered.
No answer came.
Only silence.
Ryan approached slowly.
"…Rough day."
Leo didn't respond.
"…You lost it," Ryan said.
Leo closed his eyes.
"…Yeah."
A pause.
"…Does that mean it wasn't real?" Leo asked quietly.
Ryan hesitated.
Then—
"…No."
Leo opened his eyes.
Ryan continued.
"…It means you can't control it yet."
Silence.
That answer—
felt right.
More than anything else.
From a distance—
Kael watched.
"…He touched it too early."
An observer spoke.
"…So now he'll struggle."
Kael nodded.
"…Good."
The training ground emptied.
Leo remained.
Alone.
Same place.
But different feeling.
He stood there quietly.
Not angry.
Not frustrated.
Just—
thinking.
"…I had it."
A pause.
"…And I lost it."
The words didn't hurt.
They settled.
Like truth.
Leo picked up his sword again.
This time—
not tightly.
Not forcefully.
Just—
lightly.
He raised it.
Closed his eyes.
No chasing.
No forcing.
Just waiting.
For that moment.
Even if it didn't come.
He swung.
Slow.
Then again.
And again.
Each movement calm.
From afar—
Kael turned away.
"…Now he understands."
Because losing it—
was part of learning it.
Leo continued.
Not trying to find it.
But preparing—
for when it returned.