I wake up each day with fragments or moments of clarity and confusion tangled together, like pieces of a puzzle scattered across my mind. Some of them feel distant, like old dreams, and others are startlingly vivid, as if they’ve just happened. But the more I try to reach out and grab them, the more they slip away.

I am gaining more and more strength with every passing day. I found skills coming back through muscle memory I didn't even remember learning. Before I knew it I was able to keep up with my Master Banji.

I still felt like he was going easy on me but it was different now. My legs were buzzing with energy as our pout started. It felt like everything was finally clicking, like I was finally starting to understand the movements the way Master Banji always talked about. The way my feet slid, my blade moving as if it was an extension of my arm, it all felt natural, like I could predict my opponent's next move before they even thought of it.

I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, and it wasn’t because I was nervous anymore. I was excited! When I lunged, it wasn’t clumsy like before. I could feel my balance, the precision of my thrust, and when my sword connected to strike my master, it was perfect.

When he patted me head in approval I didn't want to swat his hand away. I was proud of the praise.

It was then time to pack up so I grabbed my belongings, bowing to master Banji and made my way back to my quarters.

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Back in my room I catch a glimpse of myself in a polished mirror, and my reflection is strange. The face is mine, yet foreign as if it is another boy’s face, not one I recognize as my own. I don’t know why I feel this disconnection, but it’s there. I am still getting used to the names people call me even.

I’m not alone in this palace, though I often wish I could be. My attendants hover around me, like shadows that don’t know how to leave. They are always here and always watching me. waiting for me to speak, to make a decision, to act in ways I’m supposed to. Their eyes, I swear, are always on me. It’s unnerving.

They help to dress me, feed me, remind me of the things I should know. I catch fragments of their murmured conversations, and sometimes I feel like I’m supposed to be someone I no longer am. I've even heard old members of the nine families talk about me. I only ever caught small glimpses but I was able to put together they were questioning me.

But then there’s Poro.

The cat, who’s never far from me. She seems to sense my restlessness. Poro doesn’t question my existence, doesn’t look at me like I’m some stranger or some prince bound by responsibility. She curls at my feet, her fur soft against the cold stone floor. Her purring is the only sound that brings me peace, a constant kindness I can rely on.

I sit on my bed with my legs crossed. Poro runs over excitedly to be in my lap. When I reach down to scratch behind her little ears, her eyes half-close in contentment. It feels like a shared secret between us, like she knows who I am when I’ve forgotten, like she remembers something I’m still piecing together. The warmth of her in my lap feels like a grounding force against my confusion and anxiety. I was about to explain what happened but I heard her comforting voice in my mind.

“I know and I am so proud of you Shaoran-chan.”