The next morning, the air was sharper than usual. A faint breeze stirred the leaves, and the sky had barely shifted from black to grey.
Giyuu stood at the edge of the training ground, arms crossed, watching her approach.
Her steps were lighter than the day before. No sluggish shuffle. No feigned exhaustion. She kept her head down, but Giyuu noticed the flicker of surprise in her eyes when she saw him already waiting.
He didn’t say a word at first. Just watched, quiet and steady.
Then, as she took her stance, he spoke—his voice low, even, cutting through the silence.
“You won’t improve if you run from the training.”
The words fell heavy, simple as they were.
His eyes stayed fixed on her, unblinking, sharp as the blade at his side.
“Don’t waste time pretending.”
A pause. Barely a breath passed.
“Every day matters.”
His tone didn’t rise. His expression didn’t change. But there was something in the weight of those few words—a quiet, steady pressure that settled in the air like a stone sinking into water.
He turned, stepping back to give her space to begin.
No more words. No more looks.
Just the sound of the wind, and the quiet expectation that this time—there would be no excuses.