Friendship was a foreign thing at Mount Hwa.
Not because we were forbidden from it, but because training was hard and personal. Everyone bore their burdens in silence, measuring progress by scars and bruises. In a sect that worshipped discipline, companionship was often seen as a distraction.
I thought I was fine with that.
Then I met So-Yeon and Dan.
It started the way most things do in Murim—with a sparring match.
So-Yeon was quick, all speed and precision, wielding twin short blades that flashed like silver snakes. Dan, in contrast, was a mountain of a boy—broad, strong, loud. He used a large hammer, too heavy for most, but he swung it as if it were made of air.
The three of us were called for a group evaluation. Elder Sun oversaw it, arms folded, eyes sharp.
"You'll spar in pairs. First to land three decisive blows wins."
I was matched with So-Yeon first. She grinned, already shifting into stance. I bowed. She didn't wait.
She came at me like wind through bamboo—graceful, fast, untouchable. I struggled to follow her movements, let alone block them. Her first strike tapped my wrist. The second grazed my ribs. I adjusted, anchoring myself like in the stream, breathing calmly.
The third strike never came. Instead, she stumbled. I'd shifted just enough to break her flow.
"That's more like it," she muttered, dancing back. "You're not just some mountain after all."
I managed a tight smile. "And you're not just a breeze."
We fought again. This time, I moved with her, not against her. She still won, but I didn't feel defeated.
Dan came next. He grinned wide and shouted, "Let's make the earth shake!"
He charged like a bull, his hammer trailing a deep hum through the air. I dodged, the air from his swing pulling at my robes. I struck, but my blade barely shifted his stance.
We clashed again and again. My arms burned. His hammer roared.
Eventually, I found an opening and struck his shoulder. He laughed as if I had handed him a gift.
"Strong and smart," he said. "Good! We'll train again!"
After the match, Elder Sun nodded once. "Passable." That was his way of saying well done.
So-Yeon tossed me a water skin. "You're not bad for someone who trains alone."
Dan clapped a heavy hand on my back, nearly sending me into the dirt. "Come eat with us. No use wasting energy sulking by the stream."
I hesitated. My instinct was to retreat, to rest, to meditate. But something in their eyes—earnest, unguarded—called to me. So I nodded.
We sat by the fire later that night, eating rice and dried fish, laughing at Dan's terrible impressions of the elders.
So-Yeon glanced at me, her expression softening. "You know, you're a bit of a mystery. What's your name mean?"
"Giant Blossom," I said quietly.
Dan blinked. "Wait, seriously?"
So-Yeon tilted her head. "It fits. Strong but soft."
I didn't know what to say to that. No one had ever spoken of me like that before.
That night, I sat by the stream again, trying to coax the ember back to life. It came more easily now, responding to my breath. My body relaxed.
I was still walking the path alone—but now, I had people walking nearby. Stones in the stream, breaking the current just enough to make it interesting.
And somehow, I felt lighter.