Another clear morning, same soft coolness in Tsuna's room, and another knock at the door.
"Ais?"
White one-piece, golden fringe, eyes steady. She'd come early—again.
"You're here this early too?"
"Mm. Yesterday was… leaking information. I thought you'd be free today."
Two words flickered in her gaze: training… and dream.
Tsuna smiled wryly. "Next time, just tell me. You don't have to wait by my door."
"Oh."
She gathered herself. "Loki said the 'reinforcement plan'… doesn't include me."
"And… the dream world. I want to go again."
"The dream's not a place to live," Tsuna said softly. "It's a pressure valve. If you go too often, you'll drown in sweetness and stop walking outside."
Ais stared at the floor. Outside meant Riveria. Outside meant friends. Outside meant now.
"Sometimes?" she asked finally.
"Sometimes," he agreed. The single word steadied her shoulders.
"Breakfast?"
"Mm."
They ate early in the half-empty hall, steam lifting from bowls, clink of cutlery the only music.
"So—what is the 'reinforcement plan'?" Ais asked.
"Targeted training for present weaknesses," Tsuna said. "Finn, Gareth, Riveria—monsters in their lanes. Split them, and enemies can pry at the seams. We fix seams."
Ais thought, then: "…What do I do?"
"You're already better off than most," Tsuna said. "Short chant, augmentation magic, clean output control. You can switch range and tempo at will. Your edge is agility, dexterity, and magic. Your gap is strength and endurance."
He tapped her wrist. "Gravity bracelets are the key."
"Whole-body load. Squeeze every motion. Then we build around that load."
Ais's eyes brightened. "How?"
"Three blocks," Tsuna said, holding up three fingers.
"Block one: Load & Form. Morning circuits. Wrist-ankle core gravity on a rising ladder: walk → step runs → sled drags. Low reps, perfect lines, no slop. If form breaks, we drop the weight, not the standard."
"Block two: Fight Under Weight. Afternoon. Short burst duels with Tiona and me, shield-on-shoulder rushes with Gareth's frames, then precision cuts on a moving target. You'll anchor the cut after a 20-count hold—force plus breath."
"Block three: Cold Finish. Twilight. Ice-bath, breath discipline, then light footwork with Finn—foot shadow drills, no attacks, only recovery speed."
Ais nodded, already mapping it into her bones.
"Riveria?" she asked.
"Less magic. More handwork. She learns to shape space with tools, not chant. Gareth?" Tsuna smiled. "He crushes ceilings—then we give him ankles and wrists the speed they deserve. Everyone closes a gap."
Ais finished the last spoonful and stood. "When do we start?"
Tsuna stood too. "Now."
South yard. Morning haze.
"Wrist, ankle—set," Tsuna said.
The bracelets clicked. Gravity slid into her limbs like a new weather.
"Walk," he ordered.
Ais walked.
"Stride one finger longer."
She lengthened.
"Again."
They climbed the ladder—walks, step runs, sled drags—until the world shrank to breath and line. On the last pull, her foot slipped a whisper.
"Drop two marks," Tsuna said calmly. "Again from the top."
She didn't argue. She pulled—and this time, the sled glided true.
Afternoon heat. Canvas dummies swayed. Wire frames waited.
Tiona bounced in, grinning. "Spar snack!"
"No showboating," Tsuna reminded.
"No promises," Tiona sang, then winked at Ais. "Kidding. Mostly."
They fought under weight: Ais slid, cut, braced, then held—twenty counts in the lock before the finishing thrust. Every finish cost breath; every next start demanded more. She didn't stop.
By the third round her calves burned and her arms hummed. She reset her stance anyway.
"Again," she said.
Tsuna's answer was a nod and another whistle.
Twilight. Water steamed from a trough; ice knocked and hissed.
Ais lowered in without a word. Her breath rose white, then evened. When she stepped out, Finn was already chalking lines.
"Step shadow," he said. "No attacks. Rhythm."
They danced in quiet—heel-to-toe, shoulder-to-hip—until the sun kissed the wall and slid away.
She bowed once. Finn's returning nod was small and satisfied.
Night settled. Lamps bloomed.
Ais stood by the practice gate, bracelets in her hands, eyes on Tsuna.
"Sometimes," she repeated softly—about dreams, about parents, about a place that didn't move.
"Sometimes," he agreed—about training, about restraint, about a path that did.
She slipped the bracelets into her pouch and turned toward the manor lights.
"Tomorrow?" she asked.
"Tomorrow," he said.
And for Ais Wallenstein, tomorrow felt like both a promise and a weight she wanted to carry.
(End of Chapter)
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