"The ravenous fire that crackled in your souls was one and the same, stoked by repressed fear and the overwhelming desire to survive in a world that only valued material power."
In their desperate battle to survive the harsh aristocracy, the desire...
When Hyunjin saw you again, it was as though you hadn't trailed blood as you left his training court the day before.
You stepped through the door with your head up, shoulders firm, and your Kizāri strapped to your back, only pausing mid-stride for a hesitant moment when you noticed that he had arrived before you.
He watched as confusion, curiosity, and then concern painted themselves on your features respectively. All appropriate reactions, he supposed. It would be deemed highly disrespectful if you kept him waiting, but likewise, he didn't want you to best him in attendance as well.
It was silly, he was vaguely aware, but this was a competition. Such was life in House Amaranthine. Even the most trivial things mattered.
You cleared your throat shortly after, speaking in the same monotone voice, "Good morning, Sōrsānt."
Hyunjin didn't reply, and you both knew that he didn't have to. Neither of you actually cared about mornings and whether they were pleasant or not.
Taking your positions across the flat square of sand, Hyunjin pretended not to see the way your eyes clenched when you reached for your Kizāri. It was the first sign of pain you showed, and he suspected it would be the last.
He was aware of what you were doing. By making him injure you, you ensured that the palace wouldn't pay attention to the way he hesitated to kill you first. It was grim, but it helped mask his earlier humiliation.
Though, Hyunjin knew you didn't do it for him. You did it to protect yourself from him. If his mother grew suspicious, then there was no way to avoid the punishment she would give the both of you. Humans and Nilfyn were not supposed to be friends, and his little slip-up could've condemned the two of you.
You drew your half-moons in the sand and began what would become a daily routine—sparring wordlessly until the sun centered the sky.
Hyunjin allowed the faint voice in his head to begrudgingly admire your strength. You were still in pain, he noticed it, but your aim didn't waver, your swings didn't weaken. When his mother introduced you as her best human Azārāhi, she had truly meant it. You were an untiring weapon in her mortal arsenal.
Perhaps, in another lifetime, he would've been horrified by your endurance. But he wasn't an innocent boy in that impossible timeline, and those were the cruel instruments to surviving a world that didn't value you.
The two of you were sparring in rounds each a few minutes long. Hyunjin didn't miss the looks you were giving him by the end of each one, staring at him like he was a riddle you couldn't solve while trailing your Kizāri in the sand again. He could guess a hundred reasons behind those looks, and he found that he didn't care to know which was specifically circling your mind.
But as the day progressed, he began noticing the strange new pattern in your strategy. You were trying to corner him, push him to an edge as though to see how he would react. When he swung his Kizāri at you, you only ducked and arced your weapon to trap his. Then, to his bewilderment, you waited, narrowing your eyes at him as though anticipating his response. When he frowned and twisted his Kizāri free, your unnerving intrigue only increased. It sparkled in your eyes gloriously.
He didn't like it.
Or more precisely, he didn't like being the object of your mysterious scrutiny.
Hyunjin stifled a snarl as he swiveled his Kizāri at your feet, raising the pale sand. Goodness, you were really getting on his nerves.
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