Ezio soaked in the academy's hot spring, letting the soothing warmth seep into his aching muscles. After a long day of intense training, the spring's healing properties were a blessing. He closed his eyes, savoring the sensation, and focused on circulating his Ki. This place was perfect for cultivation, amplifying his progress significantly.
Across from him, his master sat cross-legged, a towel draped over his head like a monk deep in meditation—or perhaps just dozing off. Ezio glanced at him with a mix of amusement and respect. Who could fall asleep sitting up like that? His master was certainly... eccentric, but in a good way.
"Ezio," came a sudden, gravelly voice that made him jump. His master's eyes were still closed, but there was a slight twitch of a smile on his lips. "Tomorrow, we will be choosing a weapon for you."
The mention of a weapon made Ezio's heart race with excitement. He had heard stories of disciples and their legendary weapons, tools that became extensions of their very souls.
"It is traditional for a master to spend a day with their disciple before this decision," his master continued, still not bothering to open his eyes. "Think long and hard tonight about what combat style your new abilities are best suited for. Choosing the right weapon is crucial. While you can always change, it's best to master one if possible."
Ezio nodded eagerly, feeling a surge of energy despite the fatigue in his muscles. "Yes, Master! I will think about it seriously." He bowed, water dripping from his hair, and added, "May I leave for my room?"
His master grunted in response—a sound that Ezio had quickly learned meant, "Yes, but stop talking." Smiling to himself, he stood up, the water cascading off his toned body. He grabbed a robe from the side and wrapped it around himself, tossing a towel over his damp hair.
The wooden sliding door creaked as he pushed it open, the cool night air hitting him like a refreshing breeze. He walked down the dimly lit hallway, his bare feet padding softly against the polished wooden floor. His mind raced with thoughts of tomorrow. Should he choose a spear like his elder brother, renowned for its reach and precision? Or perhaps a sword, the most versatile of weapons?
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The sudden sound of another door sliding open caught him off guard. Before he could react, he collided headfirst into something soft yet solid, sending him stumbling backward. A sharp pain shot up his chin, leaving him momentarily dazed.
"Ow!" he grumbled, rubbing his jaw. As he blinked away the stars in his vision, he found himself face-to-face with a familiar set of icy blue eyes.
It was the girl from earlier, the one he had briefly seen on his first day. Her black hair was wet, clinging to her shoulders, and her pale skin glistened under the hallway’s lanterns. She was wrapped in nothing but a small towel that barely covered her modesty, leaving very little to the imagination.
Ezio’s eyes widened, his face turning beet red. “Ah—I didn’t mean to—”
But the girl’s eyes were already flashing with anger, her cheeks a furious shade of crimson. “What are you doing, you pervert!” she shouted, her voice echoing through the empty hallway. The accusation hit him like a slap, making his already flustered state worse.
“I-I didn’t do anything! You’re the one who walked out without looking!” he protested, waving his hands defensively.
She scoffed, her glare only intensifying. “As if! You’re clearly stalking me. First, you bump into me, now this? What’s next, peeking into the girls’ baths?” She took a step closer, jabbing a finger into his chest. “I’m not into spoiled rich boys like you, so keep your distance!”
“Huh?!? Stalk you? Don’t be ridiculous! This is just a coincidence!” Ezio shot back, now equally annoyed. “And who are you calling spoiled? You’re the one assuming the worst of everyone!”
“Sure, sure, just a ‘coincidence,’” she said, rolling her eyes. “If you’re not a stalker, then you’re just a clumsy blockhead. Either way, stay away from me, pervert!”
Ezio’s jaw dropped. “You—! That’s completely unfair!” But before he could say anything more, she grabbed her clothes from the floor, turned on her heel, and stomped down the stone steps leading toward the courtyard.
He watched her go, still reeling from the whirlwind of accusations. “What’s with her?!” he muttered to himself, fists clenched in frustration. But he couldn’t deny it—those blue eyes of hers were striking, and the fire in her spirit was... kind of admirable, in a frustrating way.
No! No positive thoughts about her allowed! he quickly reminded himself, shaking his head vigorously. Master warned me to stay far away from her. She’s nothing but trouble! He pumped his fist, steeling his resolve. “That’s right! I’ll do everything I can to avoid that crazy girl,” he muttered, marching off toward his quarters with renewed determination.
As he walked, a lingering thought gnawed at the back of his mind. Tomorrow would be a fresh start—a chance to focus on his training, his upcoming weapon selection, and proving himself in the inner court disciple tournament. Nothing, especially not some stubborn girl, would distract him from that goal.