A collective gasp rippled through the room as the familiar click-clack of Captain Amelia's boots echoed on the polished wooden floor. Steward Kael's personal quarters, usually a haven of tranquility, suddenly felt charged with a different kind of tension. We, the newly cultivated trainees, scrambled to our feet, faces alight with a mixture of nervousness and excitement. Tomohiro, ever the calm one, spoke first. "𝑪𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒏," he greeted, his voice steady, "𝒊𝒕'𝒔 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒂 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒍𝒆. 𝑻𝒘𝒐 𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒔, 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒆𝒙𝒂𝒄𝒕."
Captain Amelia's smile was genuine, but her eyes flickered around the room, landing on something that caused a frown to crease her brow. It wasn't our auras, honed to near perfection through cultivation, that seemed to disturb her. Relief washed over me – our training had paid off.
"𝑰 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘," she replied, "𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝑰 𝒉𝒂𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒆𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒏𝒆𝒙𝒕 𝒃𝒂𝒕𝒄𝒉. 𝑯𝒐𝒘 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒍 𝒕𝒂𝒔𝒌, 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒖𝒍𝒕𝒊𝒗𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒆𝒙𝒆𝒓𝒄𝒊𝒔𝒆?"
"𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒚𝒆𝒕," chimed in Kasumi and Izumi from the back. Their words echoed my own sentiments.
A flicker of worry crossed Captain Amelia's face, quickly replaced by a relieved smile when her gaze settled on me. "𝑩𝒖𝒕 𝑰'𝒎 𝒈𝒍𝒂𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒎𝒂𝒅𝒆 𝒊𝒕," she finished.
However, her relief was short-lived. With a startled yelp, she leaped back, a hand flying up to cover her nose. "𝑼𝒈𝒉! 𝑾𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒕 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒉𝒂𝒅 𝒂 𝒃𝒂𝒕𝒉?"
Embarrassment flooded my cheeks. She was right. Two months of rigorous training, pushing ourselves to the limit, had left us reeking.
Our last encounter with Captain Amelia had been weeks ago, and the stench of sweat and grime must have been clinging to us like a second skin. Not only that, but our hair, untamed and untrimmed for weeks, hung limply around our faces.
A sheepish silence descended upon the room. Captain Amelia's stern gaze swept over us, leaving no doubt about her displeasure. With a sigh, she issued a simple instruction. "𝑩𝒂𝒕𝒉𝒆. 𝑵𝒐𝒘."
The hurried splashes and scrubbing sounds that filled the next hour spoke volumes about our neglect. Emerging from our respective baths, a wave of relief washed over me. Cleanliness, it seemed, wasn't just a luxury for spies, but a necessity.
Captain Amelia had arranged for a special room for our hair trimming. Divided into small sections with white blinds for privacy, it resembled a makeshift salon.
When my turn came, I was surprised to find Steward Kael waiting for me, his usual sleepy-eyed demeanor unchanged. He offered a small smile, his eyelids remaining characteristically closed. But a large bump on his head caught my eye.
"𝑼𝒎𝒎, 𝑲𝒂𝒆𝒍 𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒆𝒊," I began hesitantly, "𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅..."
"𝑨𝒉, 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔?" he chuckled, rubbing the bump with a nonchalant hand. "𝑪𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝑨𝒎𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒂 𝒈𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒖𝒔 𝒂 𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆...𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈...𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒆𝒈𝒍𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒉𝒚𝒈𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒆."
My cheeks burned with shame. "𝑶𝒉, 𝑰'𝒎 𝒔𝒐 𝒔𝒐𝒓𝒓𝒚," I mumbled, guilt twisting in my gut.
Steward Kael chuckled again, a sound that surprised me with its warmth. "𝑰𝒕'𝒔 𝒂𝒍𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕," he said, his voice low and raspy. "𝑰 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒊𝒕𝒖𝒅𝒆...𝒇𝒂𝒔𝒄𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈." A hint of a blush seemed to color his cheeks, hidden beneath his closed eyelids.
My brow furrowed. Captain Amelia's "𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒊𝒕𝒖𝒅𝒆" wasn't exactly known for being fascinating. But before I could delve deeper into this intriguing statement, Steward Kael signaled for me to sit, and I surrendered my hair to his surprisingly deft hands. The snip-snip of the scissors filled the air as we lapsed into a comfortable silence, the weight of unspoken questions hanging between us.
Now, as Steward Kael began his work, his fingers brushed against the familiar weight in my hair – my green hair pin. A wave of protectiveness washed over me. It had been with me since childhood, a reminder of a simpler time. But before I could voice my attachment, Steward Kael spoke.
"𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒑𝒊𝒏," he murmured, his voice barely a whisper, "𝒊𝒕'𝒔 𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒊𝒇𝒖𝒍. 𝑴𝒂𝒚 𝑰?"
Hesitation flickered across me. This wasn't just any hair pin; it held a deep personal significance. But seeing the genuine curiosity in his usually closed eyes, I found myself nodding.
Carefully, Steward Kael removed the pin, his touch surprisingly gentle. He held it up to the light, turning it in his hands to examine the intricate jade carving. A sense of vulnerability washed over me as my hair tumbled down my back, the familiar weight absent.
"𝑰𝒕'𝒔 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒎𝒚 𝒗𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒂𝒈𝒆," I explained softly, the words catching in my throat.
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Rise Of Royal Phantoms And Qixi Festival
FantasíaThis story unfolds a tale of a young boy who trainees much as he can to become the best vision of himself no limitations
