There was no ground beneath his feet. No wind against his face. No sound but the distant ringing of steel. A blade descended.
He tried to move, but his body refused to obey. Somewhere beyond the darkness, a voice spoke, though the words were already slipping from his memory.
Then—
SPLASH!
Kaien Vaelor shot upright with a strangled gasp. Cold water streamed down his face, soaking his clothes and the blankets beneath him. His hand flew toward his waist before he even knew what he was reaching for.
Where is it?! he thought frantically, his heart pounding. But what was he looking for?
His fingers grasped at empty air. Panic surged through him as he searched the space beside his bed.
I was holding something. Wasn't I?
His eyes darted around the room, searching for a danger he couldn't name. He found only wooden walls, familiar furniture, and morning sunlight spilling through his window. His body was braced for something terrible, yet he couldn't remember what.
Wait... what? Kai thought, blinking at his surroundings.
He struggled to understand what he was seeing.
My room? How did I...?
"Finally."
Kaien froze. A broad-shouldered man stood beside his bed, holding an empty wooden bucket. Dark hair, beginning to gray at the temples, framed a weathered face with a neatly trimmed beard. His expression was stern, although the crooked smile threatening to appear at the corner of his mouth was considerably less convincing.
"Dad?"
Taren Vaelor raised an eyebrow. "Good. You remember me. I was beginning to wonder whether you'd slept yourself into another lifetime."
Kaien blinked twice before looking down at his thoroughly soaked bedding. "Did you just throw water on me?"
"No. The roof developed a very selective leak."
Kaien stared at him. Taren stared back, seemingly quite pleased with himself. Somewhere beyond the doorway, a muffled snicker escaped.
"Yuna!"
His younger sister stood in the doorway, one hand covering her mouth as her shoulders trembled with barely contained laughter. The moment their eyes met, she straightened and attempted an innocent expression, although the grin spreading across her face ruined the effort.
"Yes, dear brother?" she replied sweetly.
Kai glanced at the empty bucket beside his bed before turning his attention back to her. Oh, she definitely knew about this.
"Don't give me that innocent look. You knew he was going to throw water on me, didn't you?"
Yuna tilted her head thoughtfully, pretending to consider the accusation. "Well, Father did mention you were being particularly difficult to wake this morning."
"And you didn't think to warn me?"
"I was going to," she said, her expression growing serious for all of half a second. "But then I realized I'd miss the best part."
Kai stared at her in disbelief. "You actually stood there waiting for him to do it?"
"Of course not!" Yuna protested, pressing a hand against her chest as though deeply offended. "I was standing there to make sure you were all right."
"After he dumped an entire bucket of water on me?"
Her lips twitched. "Well, you did wake up, didn't you?"
Taren, who had been watching the exchange with obvious amusement, finally chuckled. "She's got a point."
Taren set the bucket down beside the bed. "Your sister has been awake for an hour. Your mother has already begun her work, and you, my son, have apparently decided to become part of the furniture."
Kaien dragged a hand down his wet face. "What time is it?"
"Late."
"That isn't a time."
"It is when you're supposed to be training."
Yuna finally lost her battle against the laughter. Kaien reached for his pillow, but she disappeared around the corner before he could throw it.
"Coward!" he called.
"Slowpoke!" came the answer.
Taren folded his arms. "Training yard. Get dressed."
Kaien opened his mouth, but his father raised a hand before he could speak. "And before you ask, no, you cannot have another five minutes."
His father turned toward the doorway, then stopped. "Kaien."
Something in his voice made Kai look up. The amusement had faded from Taren's face, replaced by a quiet concern.
"Are you all right?"
Kaien hesitated. For a moment, the room seemed strangely distant, and he could almost hear thunder. Not the gentle rumble of an approaching storm, but something violent enough to shake the earth beneath his feet.
For an instant, he felt as though something was rushing toward him. He couldn't picture it. He couldn't even say whether it had been real.
The memory slipped away before he could grasp it.
"Yeah," Kai said quietly. "Just had a weird dream."
Taren studied him for another moment. "A bad one?"
Kai looked toward the window. Morning sunlight spilled across the wooden floor, while birds called from the trees outside. Somewhere nearby, a hammer rang against metal.
Everything was ordinary. Familiar. Safe.
"Something like that."
Taren nodded. "Then come outside. A little fresh air will do you good." He paused at the doorway. "And if you're still dreaming, I'll wake you again."
Kaien narrowed his eyes. "You're enjoying this far too much."
"Immensely."
With that, his father left.
Kai remained seated for several moments, staring at the empty doorway. He tried to remember the dream, but every attempt left him with less to hold on to. There was no clear face, no place he could name, only the lingering certainty that he'd been in danger.
And a feeling he couldn't explain. Fear? Regret?
Whatever it was, it had seemed important. Yet the harder he searched for it, the more the memories scattered, until all that remained were vague impressions he could no longer put into words.
Finally, he shook his head. "Just a dream."
He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, only for his bare feet to land in a puddle. Kaien closed his eyes and slowly exhaled.
"I'm going to get him back for this."
From outside came his father's voice. "I heard that!"
Kai looked toward the open doorway. "How?!"
"Training yard!"
"I'm coming!"
***
By the time Kaien stepped outside, the morning had already warmed the village of Aokiri. Their home stood near its outskirts, where clustered houses gave way to cultivated fields and a narrow stretch of woodland. Beyond the trees, distant mountains rose against the pale sky.
The Vaelor house was modest but well maintained, built from timber and pale stone. A covered workroom extended from one side, its shelves lined with sealed jars, drying herbs, and bundles of plants hanging from wooden beams. A faint medicinal scent drifted through the open windows, accompanied by something considerably sharper.
Kaien recognized that second smell immediately. His mother was working. Whatever she'd decided to experiment with that morning had produced an odor strong enough to make him wrinkle his nose.
I'm not even going to ask.
Behind the house lay the training yard. Its packed earth bore the marks of countless footsteps, while wooden practice posts stood along one side, their surfaces scarred by years of repeated strikes.
Taren waited in the center, holding two wooden swords. His training clothes were simple, their sleeves rolled above his forearms, exposing the calloused hands and old scars left by years of swordsmanship.
Kaien approached while fastening the last tie on his shirt. His hair was still slightly damp, an unfortunate reminder of how his morning had begun.
"Before we begin," Kai announced, raising one finger, "I'd like to register a complaint."
"Denied."
Kai stopped walking. "You haven't even heard it."
"I've raised you for nineteen years. I can make an educated guess."
"That's hardly fair. What if I have a legitimate grievance?"
Taren considered him for a moment, then glanced toward the house. "Does this grievance involve a bucket?"
Kai narrowed his eyes. "You know perfectly well it does."
"Then my decision stands."
Taren tossed him a wooden sword. Kaien caught it against his palm, turned it in his hand, and gave his father a deeply unimpressed look.
One day, I'm going to wake him up the same way. See how much he enjoys it.
As though he'd heard the thought, Taren raised an eyebrow. "Something troubling you?"
"I'm starting to think you enjoy making my life difficult."
"Only because you're so talented at making it easy."
Kaien shook his head, fighting a reluctant smile as he moved into position. His feet settled into their familiar stance, his weight balanced and his wooden blade held steady. He'd practiced these movements thousands of times, yet his father still examined every detail.
"Your shoulders."
Kai relaxed them.
"Your grip."
He adjusted his hands, loosening his fingers slightly.
"Your breathing."
Kaien released a slow breath through his nose. "Anything else?"
"Yes."
"What?"
"Stop talking."
Taren moved.
Kai barely had time to raise his sword before wood struck wood with a sharp crack. The force traveled through his wrists, driving him half a step backward. His heel dragged across the packed earth as he struggled to recover his balance.
Taren didn't press the attack. Instead, he lowered his blade and watched his son straighten.
"Again."
Kai frowned. "I wasn't ready."
"Your opponent will be delighted to hear that."
"I was still adjusting my stance!"
"And I was standing directly in front of you holding a sword. What did you think I was going to do?"
Kai opened his mouth, then closed it again.
Unfortunately, that's a fair point.
"Again," Taren repeated.
Kaien stepped forward, determined not to give his father another easy opening. This time, he attacked first, swinging toward Taren's shoulder before turning his wrists and following with a second strike.
His father shifted aside, caught the follow-up attack, and redirected it harmlessly past him. Kai tried to pull his sword back, but his weight had already carried him too far forward.
The tip of Taren's wooden blade came to rest against his chest.
"Dead."
Kaien looked down at the sword, then slowly raised his eyes to his father. "That's a little dramatic, don't you think?"
"Would you prefer 'seriously inconvenienced'?"
"Much better. I feel considerably healthier already."
Taren withdrew his blade, the corner of his mouth twitching. "Then you should have no trouble continuing."
I walked straight into that one.
"Again."
Kai tightened his grip, then caught himself and loosened it slightly. This time, he focused on his father's feet rather than the wooden blade. He'd learned the hard way that watching the sword alone was a reliable method of discovering where it was going approximately one moment too late.
Taren shifted his weight.
There.
Kai moved to intercept the attack, and their swords collided. He held his ground through the first exchange, then the second. When Taren pressed forward, Kai adjusted his footing rather than retreating in a straight line.
For a brief moment, something clicked.
He wasn't simply reacting anymore. He was beginning to recognize the rhythm of his father's movements.
I've got you.
Taren's next strike came from the right. Kai raised his guard to meet it, only to realize too late that the movement had been a feint. His father's blade slipped beneath his defense and tapped sharply against his ribs.
Kaien stumbled sideways with a grunt.
"Dead again," Taren observed.
Kai pressed a hand against his side. "You know, most fathers encourage their children."
"I am encouraging you."
"By repeatedly killing me?"
"Better here than somewhere it matters."
The humor faded from Taren's expression, if only for a moment. Kai noticed the change. His father had always been quick with a joke, but when it came to training, there were certain lessons he never treated lightly.
Taren lowered his sword. "You're getting faster. Your footwork has improved, and you're starting to read my movements. But you still fall for my feints."
Kai looked up, surprised. "I am?"
"You're noticing more than you used to. Now you need to learn when I'm trying to mislead you."
"Oh. Wonderful. For a moment there, I thought you were complimenting me."
"I was." Taren gestured toward Kai's sword. "But you keep trying to overpower the blade instead of controlling where it goes."
He stepped closer and adjusted the position of Kai's hands. His movements were precise and practiced, the same careful corrections he'd made since his son was old enough to hold a training sword.
"Look at your grip. You're holding it as though you're afraid someone might take it away from you."
"Considering how often you knock it out of my hands, I think that's a reasonable concern."
Taren gave him a patient look. "A tighter grip doesn't always mean better control. If your arms are tense, your movements become stiff. And if your movements are stiff—"
"You'll knock me onto my backside," Kai finished.
"Precisely."
Kai sighed. "I'm beginning to notice a pattern."
Taren stepped back and raised his sword again, though this time he made no move to attack.
"Strength has its place. So does Qi. But neither will save you if your foundation is poor. You can pour all the power you possess into a strike, but if your balance is wrong and your opponent understands your movement, all you've done is make yourself easier to defeat."
Kai studied the position of his father's feet. Taren wasn't the largest man he'd ever seen, nor did he move with the reckless speed of younger fighters. Yet whenever they crossed swords, it felt as though his father knew what Kai intended to do before Kai himself had decided.
How does he always know where I'm going to strike?
He tried to imagine what it would take to reach that level of skill. For all his complaining, he wanted to learn. Not simply to defeat his father one day, although that would certainly be satisfying, but to become someone who could rely on his own sword when it truly mattered.
Kai adjusted his stance once more.
"Again?" he asked.
Taren's familiar crooked smile returned. "Now you're learning."