The wind changed before the breakthrough came.
It had been warm the week before—too warm for late autumn—but that morning a chill had crept into the clearing. The trees had lost their color overnight. The scene of firewood drifted from distant homes down in the valley.
Genzo said nothing about it. But he'd been watching the sky all day.
That meant something was shifting.
And something was.
***
My body moved on instinct now. Parry. Step. Strike. Reset. The forms Genzo drilled into me had me become more than movement. They were rhythm. Memory. Breath.
But something still held me back.
"You hesitate at the last step,
" he said. "Every time."
"I don't know why."
"I do."
He circled me slowly, sword resting on his shoulder. "You're afraid of what happens when you finish something. Because that's when the past tries to come back."
I didn't respond. Not right away.
Then I whispered, "Sometimes… I see flames."
He paused.
"When I'm close to remembering."
He lowered the sword.
"Smoke. A battlefield. Ash falling like snow. And someone calling my name—but not Ren."
Genzo didn't look surprised.
He pulled the narrow gourd from his side and passed it to me. I drank without question.
"You're further along than I thought."I sat down on one of the stumps, wiping sweat from my face.
"What about you?" I asked. "What do you remember?"
He leaned against the tree. "I don't remember fire. I remember silence. A moment after battle. When there was no one left standing. Just me. And a sword in my hand. And a choice I couldn't make."
I looked up. "What choice?"
"To kill someone I couldn't bear to lose."
The words dropped like stones between us.
Neither of us moved.
Then he pushed off the tree. "Up. Again."
***
The sparring began the same as always.
But something was different.
Genzo moved faster—pressing me harder, forcing mistakes. I fell into old patterns. Dodged, blocked, struck. Slipped once. Regained footing. Then—
A shallow cut.
His blade slid across my shoulder, not deep, but sharp. A line of pain bloomed.
I cried out.
And the world twitched.
***
I was standing three steps back.
Breathing hard.
The cut was gone.
The sword had not moved yet.
Time hadn't reversed completely. Just that single motion. That single thread.
I looked up.
Genzo was watching me. Still. Calm. Eyes locked on mine.
"You felt it?" I said.He nodded. "Good."
"That didn't scare you?"
"I've seen worse. But now I know for sure." He said, voice low.
"Know what?"
He stepped forward and rested a hand briefly on my shoulder—the one that should have been bleeding.
"That whatever you brought here," he said, "wasn't a mistake."
He walked past me, toward the house.
And for the first time, I realized he wasn't training me for his sake.
He was preparing me for something he couldn't follow me into.