The morning felt normal…
Too normal.
Sunlight spread slowly across the rooftops, slipping through narrow streets where Yakumaro walked in silence, his head slightly lowered.
Voices filled the air.
A merchant shouting.
Children laughing.
Metal clashing in the distance.
Everything was as it should be.
And yet… something felt wrong.
He passed by the training ground.
A single удар shook the earth beneath a fighter's feet.
Another vanished—then reappeared behind his opponent in an instant.
Power. Speed. Control.
Yakumaro stopped for a moment.
Watched.
Then kept walking.
"You're slow."
The voice came from behind.
Calm. Familiar.
Yakumaro turned.
There he was.
Standing casually, holding a wooden box with one hand as if it weighed nothing.
Silver hair. Quiet eyes. A faint smile.
"You're late again," his friend said.
Yakumaro shrugged.
"You're just early."
His friend stepped closer, placing the box down.
"I can train you… if you want."
Silence.
Yakumaro didn't look at him.
"No need."
The smile didn't disappear.
But it faded… just a little.