I rubbed my ears. Qana's shouting still echoed in my head, causing a bit of pain. It had been nearly half an hour since the scolding, a testament to the sword master's extraordinary volume.

Seeing Qana wave his hand to close the storeroom door and stomp towards me angrily, I flinched again, shifting my weight uneasily to the other foot, my gaze dropping to the ground.

"Why did you do that, huh?" The pain from having my ear yanked made me let out a small yelp. "Provoking your brother until he lost control, was it for some kind of vengeful satisfaction, or do you really have a death wish?" Qana bent down, bringing his snout close to my ear. "I thought you were the more mature type, or do you secretly wish to make up for your lost childhood by being treated like a pup?"

"I didn't..." I mumbled in a hushed voice, trying to suppress the hiss of pain from my ear.

"Didn't?" Qana seemed even angrier, raising his voice and tugging harder on my ear. "Do you think everyone present couldn't see that you never attacked once, even when you deflected your brother's strikes to create openings?" The master's questioning left me speechless, unable to respond. "Clearly, the fight could have ended long ago, so why didn't you strike?"

"I didn't want to hurt him..." I muttered, sniffling.

"By the ancestors of Snow!" Qana sighed, releasing my ear. "I'm quite sure Piqsirpoq now knows his swordsmanship is no match for yours. I've known for a while, and I'm certain you knew too!" The sword master gave me another glare, making me wonder if my tail had curled in on itself twice over. "But soon, everyone on Hadrian's Wall and even the entire Senatus will know!"

I think your booming voice had something to do with that, too. Of course, I didn't dare let any hint of that thought show, just continuing to press my ears flat against my head.

"I really don't see how becoming the laughingstock of the Senatus is a good way to avoid getting hurt." Qana sighed again, folding his arms across his chest. "I know you're smart. We masters do talk amongst ourselves."

I glanced up at Qana briefly, but the knot in his brows made me lower my gaze again.

"When I was your age, my swordsmanship probably wasn't even half as good as yours. And those fluid movements and reactions of yours are... remarkable. So I know that unless something unexpected happens, you'll undoubtedly become a master in your own right." It felt really nice to be praised by the sword master who seldom did so, though I still forced my ears to stay unresponsive. "But to those self-important fools, you're just a mutt!"

Qana had never called me that before. Hearing that word from his mouth felt like a harsh slap, the sting burning like fire. I flinched again, feeling a lump in my throat.

"Are you ashamed of this identity?" In an instant, Qana grabbed my collar and lifted me up, his spittle spraying on my face as he shouted. "Does being born a mongrel make you ashamed?"

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I couldn't respond. I wanted to scream something back, to throw a tantrum, to collapse in a heap and pound the ground, to... to... have someone...

But I couldn't react at all. My jaw just trembled uncontrollably, and warm liquid slid down from the corners of my eyes.

I had tried. Tears were not within my control. Rationalism knew why.

He set me down, placing his large hands on my shoulders, staring directly into my eyes without speaking. We stayed like that for a while.

"Don't be ashamed," the sword master said slowly, his voice low. "Be proud."

I wiped my nose, giving Qana a questioning look through my tear-blurred vision, unable to understand what I should be proud of.

"No one should ever feel sorry for any inherent trait they are born with." He enunciated each word clearly, his white canines occasionally showing as he spoke. "Whether it's lineage, faction, fur color, eye color, breed, race, gender, defect... everything is part of you." He tightened his grip on my shoulders. "And we should always be proud of ourselves," Qana's deep blue eyes seemed to sparkle with something. "Because that is who we are."

At this close distance, I noticed a scar crossing Qana's right eye, nearly covered by white fur. The heat from his breath brushed my face, giving me a sense of... warmth.

"In any case..." He stepped back and cleared his throat awkwardly, patting his clothes. "I may not be the best person to talk to you about this. Rationalism knows how bad I am at expressing myself." He twisted his neck and sighed lightly. "Be proud, okay?"

I responded with a soft hum, wiping my tears and snot, unsure of how to handle the surge of feelings from deep within.

"And it's partly my fault..." Qana tilted his head slightly, scratching the back of his head. "I did intend to teach Piqsirpoq a lesson, but I didn't expect you to... handle it like this. My intention was for you both to understand each other..." He lowered his hand, exhaling through his nose. "By the way, your parry and riposte was beautiful." Qana looked up at the rising moon. "But if you can't deliver the decisive strike, it's meaningless." He said slowly, his mind seemingly drifting elsewhere. "In the future, you'll face many challenges and difficulties. Do you intend to avoid fighting back every time you encounter conflict? You can't always just endure. That won't achieve anything."

I looked at my shadow cast on the ground by the moonlight, a slender, thin silhouette compared to Qana's broad and sturdy figure.

"I don't want to hurt anyone..." I could barely hear my own voice. "...too many people have been hurt already."

Qana's response was to exhale deeply and pat my back.

"I know you're kind-hearted, but you also need to understand that kindness alone is often not enough. Life demands more from us." He gave me a somewhat sorrowful smile. "Purpose and meaning--the truest thoughts will guide our actions. You must constantly ask yourself, what do you really want?"

"I want to..." I felt a bit embarrassed just thinking about it, but I still mustered the courage to speak my thoughts. "...protect those who can't protect themselves."

Qana nodded, his eyes filled with understanding, though that sad smile remained.

"Most people who pick up a weapon actually think that way." He placed his hand on the hilt of the sword at his waist. "But you must recognize, wielding a sword means you will hurt people."

I glanced at Piqsirpoq's broken sword, still stuck in the ground nearby, reflecting the clear moonlight.

"But for now," Qana suddenly slapped the back of my head, making me jump. "Go help your brother. These complicated matters can wait until you're older." Qana turned and walked towards the stairs leading to the underground facilities. "For now, just be a mischievous, reckless little pup."

Watching Qana disappear around the corner, I bent down to pick up the broken sword and glanced in the direction of the storeroom.

In the moonlight, my shadow gently wagged its tail.