The forest was quiet, save for the soft thud of her footsteps behind him. Giyuu glanced back, catching a glimpse of her—sword too big, hands unsteady, determination burning in her eyes.

His tsuguko.

It still didn’t feel real.

She wasn’t ready—not yet. Her stances were weak, her breathing uneven. But she kept trying, over and over, even when she stumbled, even when she fell.

He spoke little. Just a quiet correction here, a gesture there.

But when he saw her push through exhaustion, forcing herself back up, Giyuu paused—just for a moment.

Without thinking, he reached out, steadying her with a hand on her shoulder.

Her eyes met his, wide and startled.

Giyuu looked away quickly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Don’t break yourself trying to catch up.”

Then, just as quietly, he added—

“I’ll wait.”

And with that, he turned, his figure melting into the shadows of the forest—leaving her to stand there, breathless and unsure, but maybe a little stronger than before.