As Breeze's heart pounded like a war drum, he stood at the dead end, his chest heaving with each desperate breath. The unexpectedly wide, dimly lit alley offered no escape, and the sound of approaching footsteps grew closer. His master, Sayah, was coming, and there was no mistaking the fury in her stride. Panic surged through him as he frantically looked around, searching for a solution. His eyes darted upward, and he spotted a balcony just within reach—a potential escape if he could muster the courage and skill.

At that moment, the skies opened, and the first drops of rain began to fall. Breeze saw an opportunity. The wet walls would soon make climbing perilous, but the slick surface might also slow Sayah down. He braced himself, positioning his hands and feet against the front and adjacent walls to form a ninety-degree angle with his limbs. With every ounce of strength, he pushed himself upward rapidly. The dampness from the rain made the task exponentially harder, and his muscles burned with exertion. The knowledge of Sayah's relentless pursuit intensified his agitation, causing his grip to falter slightly.

As Breeze reached the height of the balcony, his legs trembled from the strain. Summoning his remaining strength, he released his legs from the walls, gripping the surface solely with his hands. He pressed his feet against one side of the wall to steady himself before leaping toward the balcony railings. His fingers latched onto the cold iron, and without hesitation, he swung himself up and vaulted onto the roof.

The moment his feet touched the roof, Sayah rounded the corner below. She stopped, scanning the alley with narrowed eyes, finding no trace of her fleeing apprentice. Her expression hardened. The balcony, which was situated on the right wall, was the only way forward. Sayah stood motionless for a moment, her eyes narrowing as she assessed the iron balcony above. With a flick of her wrist, she drew a kunai from her belt, the blade catching the light like a sliver of moonlight. Tied securely to its hilt was a coiled rope, thin but strong, resting in her other hand like a serpent waiting to strike.

In one fluid motion, she spun the kunai in her fingers, the rope unraveling in a perfect spiral. Her body shifted, weight balanced on the balls of her feet, and with a sharp exhale, she hurled the kunai upward. It cut through the rain with a faint whistle, the rope trailing behind it like a shadow. The kunai wrapped around the iron baluster with a metallic clink, the rope looping tightly around the bar.

Sayah gave the rope a firm tug, testing its hold. Satisfied, she smirked. Without hesitation, she dashed and leaped toward the front wall, her movements as smooth as flowing water. Planting one foot against the stone, she pushed off with explosive force, her body arcing through the air. The rope went taut as she swung upward, and with a quick move of her hand altered a wave unhooking the kunai and recoiling the rope to her hand she landed on the balcony's edge. In a single, effortless motion, she flipped herself onto the roof, landing in a crouch.

Breeze had thought he'd gained a head start, but his master's speed was otherworldly. Panic flared anew as he glanced over his shoulder, spotting her silhouette closing the distance with alarming speed.

The rain intensified, turning the rooftops slick and dangerous. Breeze leaped from one roof to another, his footing precarious on the wet tiles. His vision was already compromised by the storm and the dim light, but he couldn't afford to stop. Sayah's voice cut through the rain, though her exact words were lost to the wind. Her tone, however, carried a clear message: she was not in a forgiving mood.

As Breeze sprinted across another roof, his foot slipped on the treacherous surface. He flailed, his hands desperately grabbing for the roof ridge. His fingers caught hold just in time, his body dangling precariously over the edge. A moment later, a shuriken whizzed past him, embedding itself in the lightning rod above. His slip had inadvertently saved him. Clenching his jaw, he hauled himself back onto the roof and resumed his frantic escape.

Sayah's voice rang out again, louder and sharper. Breeze didn't need to understand her words to know they were threats. The realization that she was gaining on him spurred him to push his limits further. Despite the rain stinging his face and the wind whipping around him, he pressed forward, leaping from one roof to the next with reckless determination.

Ahead, the bell tower loomed, its spire piercing the stormy sky. It was his targeted destination. He veered toward it, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Behind him, Sayah's movements were a blur of deadly precision. She was relentless, closing the gap with every passing second.

Breeze reached the tower and began to climb as though his life depended on it—which, in a way, it did. His hands found purchase on the cold, wet stone, and he scrambled upward with the agility of a cat. Sayah wasn't far behind. Even as she climbed, one hand on the wall and the other gripping her sword, her movements were impossibly smooth. Breeze glanced down, his heart skipping a beat as he saw how close she was.

"Is she… letting me win?" he muttered under his breath, disbelief coloring his words. He shook his head. 'No, Sayah wasn't the type to hold back.'

Just as his hand reached the top of the tower, a sharp pain shot him from below. Sayah had slashed his posterior—a calculated strike meant to embarrass, not to heavily injure, however, it was still quite painful. The slash made him yelp loudly, his voice echoing through the night like a howling wolf.

Breeze scrambled onto the roof of the tower, clutching his stinging backside. Sayah climbed up after him, sheathing her sword with a satisfied smirk. Her apprentice stood before her, drenched and panting, his expression a mix of defiance and humiliation.

"What was that for?" Breeze demanded, his voice cracking slightly.

Sayah crossed her arms, her smirk widening. "That, my dear apprentice, was an eye for an eye. Consider it a lesson. Try not to outsmart your master with your traps next time."

Breeze groaned, slumping onto the roof's edge. The rain continued to pour, soaking them both to the bone. Despite his exhaustion and the lingering pain, he couldn't help but crack a small smile. Sayah's methods were unconventional, but they always carried a strange sort of logic.

"Next time, try not to make me work so hard," she added, her tone light but with a hint of warning. "Now, get down from here before the entire Bastion thinks we've gone mad."

Breeze nodded, grateful that the chase was over. Together, they began their descent, the rain masking their laughter as they left the bell tower behind—or so he thought. Unfortunately, he couldn't move easily, let alone descend. "Hey, move your—ahem, why aren't you moving?"

"Master, I think you'll have to carry me."

"Huh? Why should I?"

"Please, Master, I'm in no position to move."

"You little… sigh, fine! But this will be the first and last time."

Carrying him on her shoulder, she descended the tower with ease and walked straight toward a familiar place.

As they walked in the pouring rain, Breeze's wound kept throbbing, annoying him.

"That slash was unnecessary, Master. How can you be so cruel to your apprentice like that?"

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"You ungrateful little… Are you the one talking about cruelty? I was taking it easy, and you set a trap for your fragile master to make her fall like that? I won't be called Sayah if I don't get my revenge! And I was being merciful when I barely slashed you like that."

"You call that merciful? Look, you're even carrying me on your shoulder like a corpse because I can't move, and I won't even be able to sit."

"Yeah, that's what I was aiming for. You have to always live with the memory of pain so you won't forget it."

"Ow, ow, ow! Master, move slowly, please. It really hurts."

"Heh, heh. That's what you get for making me fall on my backside. You know I'm a vengeful woman."

"Sigh… Talking to you is pointless. All I can do is endure it… At least, can you please give me a potion to accelerate the injury's regeneration?"

"Keep dreaming. I'll be taking you to your wife so she can take care of you."

Breeze's eyes widened, and he tried to free himself from his master's grip, but to no avail.

"No, please, Master! I'll do whatever you want, just don't take me there. I can't be more of a burden to her. She's taken care of me more than enough already. I can't take advantage of her."

Sayah smacked her forehead in disappointment.

"Do you really think she sees you as a burden? I'd bet all my fortune she'll be happy to see you—and your injured-ahem. Anyway, we're almost there, so don't embarrass me by acting like a lady crying over a broken nail, okay?"

Breeze's face grew redder the closer they got to Samar's house. "Fine, but you have to explain everything and admit that you caused my injury."

"Okay, okay, stop nagging, please. I was already planning on visiting her."

…

Knock! Knock! Knock!

"Let's go back, Master. She's probably sleeping."

The moment he finished speaking, the door opened, revealing a girl huddled in a blanket. The signs of sleep lingered on her face, and she yawned widely. "Who might you be?" she asked, her voice still thick with sleep. "I heard Breeze's voice… where is he?"

Rain pattered against the doorway, a constant backdrop to the scene.

"I brought his corpse with me," Sayah replied, a dry edge to her voice.

Samar's eyes widened for a second, then she remembered she had heard his voice before opening the door. The initial shock of Sayah's words still made her heart skip a beat. "You were a step away from fooling me."

"You and your lame jokes, Master. I told you she wouldn't fall for that," Breeze said, his voice muffled.

"If you'd kept your mouth shut, I would have witnessed a great scene tonight. So, are you going to let us keep standing here in the rain until we catch a cold?" Sayah retorted.

"Oh, I'm sorry, come in," Samar said, stepping aside, a flicker of concern replacing the remnants of sleep in her eyes.

"I won't stand on ceremony," Sayah said, entering. "I'll use your bath. Please, give me some spare clothes."

"Yeah, sure," Samar replied, her gaze now fixed on the figure slumped on Sayah's shoulder.

"By the way," Sayah added, shifting Breeze slightly, "take your husband and look after him, but don't carry him. He can move—uncomfortably—but he can manage."

With a blush, Samar carefully helped Breeze off Sayah's shoulder and settled him near the hearth. Then she started a fire to warm him and heated up the leftovers of her dinner for them.

A few minutes later, Sayah emerged from the shower, feeling refreshed despite the cold water. "You could have told me to heat up some water for you to bathe with," Samar said.

"It's fine. I hate hot water anyway," Sayah replied.

While they were chatting, Breeze struggled to his feet to take a shower, wincing with each step. Samar moved to take the two pails she had filled with hot water for his bath, but Sayah stopped her, saying that Breeze was still in training and had to rely on himself. Breeze then took the pails with difficulty, struggling to move as he entered the bathroom. They giggled at his awkward progress. Thankfully, his injury wasn't that severe, or he wouldn't have been able to move for weeks at the very least.

Breeze started washing himself with the hot water, checking his body. The scratches from all his training with his master had left scars on his skin—evidence of his hard work. Even though the last slash was a bit shameful, he learned that when he had to set a trap, he had to make it deadly so no retaliation would follow as a consequence, and he should never leave his back unguarded. But the most important lesson was to never anger his master again. He thought deeply about how to improve himself; one of the tips his master had given him was to be knowledgeable. He had a whole book for that, a record of the experiences of outstanding people, which he intended to focus on until his wound healed.

As he poured the water over his head and body again, steam spread throughout the bathroom, blurring his reflection in the mirror. Even though his body was well-shaped, he saw himself reflected as he felt—lacking.

'Deep down, I was quite proud of my agility, how quickly my body had grown, and how my abilities had followed suit. But this period of training with that vengeful master has taught me just how arrogant I was. I'm fortunate she made me realize my foolishness. I don't think this hasty growth in both body and mind is entirely a good thing; it made me overestimate myself, but the truth is, I'm still an inexperienced kid, even with all the teachings of my father and master. I kept underestimating my opponents, and what made things worse were my two successful hunting missions, which inflated my ego. Thankfully, my master's humbling lesson made me realize I can't underestimate anyone anymore. But that doesn't mean I have to cower and bow my head.' He attempted to bolster his spirits.

Painfully, he walked toward the mirror, wiping it with his bare hand, and looking at his reflection for a moment. Then he dried himself and put on some of Samar's late father's clothes.

Leaving the bath, he found Sayah and Samar waiting for him at a low table where they sat on the floor. He stared at them for a moment, then approached slowly and knelt, assuming a tall kneeling position as he looked at them. They seemed to be having a serious conversation. He coughed to get their attention.

"Cough! Cough!"

"Hey, it's not my fault if you catch a cold, okay?" Sayah responded to his coughing.

"Sigh, I have something to tell you, Master."

"Oh? And what is it?"

"You see. When I was in the bath, I kept staring at my reflection in the mirror, and I realized there were a lot of similarities between you and me. I wouldn't deny it if anyone said you were my mother…"

Sayah raised an eyebrow but kept listening.

"If I didn't know my mother is actually dead and would be in her early twenties this year if she were still alive, I would have assumed the same thing…"

She interrupted him, saying, "Wait, what? Your mother would be in her early twenties? How can you be sixteen when your mother is that age? Even though girls tend to marry young, the age gap between you is questionable."

Samar exclaimed, "Sixteen?!"

Breeze explained how it was a trick to register at The MES by pretending to be older.

Samar understood, but Sayah was even more confused.

"Master, I see you as a mother figure, not only because we look similar, but also because of the care and protection you've given me—like a mother to her son. I can say I completely trusted you after you gave me that elixir. I know exactly how dangerous it was for you to do that."

Sayah's expression was warm until Breeze mentioned the elixir. Her face became a mix of fear, anger, shock, and confusion.

"Are you out of your mind, talking about this in front of your wife? Do you want us all dead? And why do I sense you're quite knowledgeable about that elixir?" Sayah jumped up and went outside.

A few moments later, she returned, saying, "While I know no one's outside and no one was following us, especially in this heavy rain, I need to be one hundred percent sure, or I'll start imagining things."

She dried her hair and changed into a fresh shift, then sat down, looking at Breeze with bewilderment. Without her saying anything, Breeze began to speak:

"Master, let me start by saying that my parents would be 23 and 25 this year, respectively, though they're dead. And I'm actually… I didn't want either of you to know my real age; you'd probably make fun of me. But I have to tell you, because you've both put your trust in me. I'm… I'm actually ten years old."

Sayah was shocked. His words echoed in her mind. Ashamed of her earlier attraction to him, the only thing that snapped her out of her shock was Samar's sudden movement to stand. She seemed about to speak, then sat back down, silent.

"So, how do you look like this when you're ten? Anyone would say you're sixteen or older."

"Master, while you seem to know many things others don't, I'm sure there are things you're unaware of. You're risking your life to make me stronger. It wouldn't be fair if I didn't risk something of equal value."

Breeze began to reveal some secrets: the ingredients of the elixirs and who could produce them, information about the bastions and the rulers, and some forgotten history—stories of his ancestors he had read. He didn't mention the book itself. He recounted his life up to this point—not everything, of course; one night wouldn't be enough.

…

Sayah's shock was at its peak. She slowly approached Breeze and hugged him, saying, "While I can't replace your mother, I'd love to have a son like you—someone who honors his parents, helps others, and is reliable. Call me whatever you want—mother, master, anything. We have to be more careful from now on."

Suddenly, Samar coughed, separating them. "Ahem."