Can love be green? [Vinsmoke Yonji]

11. Raid Suit

Rain had turned Germa's training grounds into a chaos of water and mud. It fell in dense sheets from the grey sky, striking the metal structures with a constant hiss and bouncing off the stone hard enough to blur the edges of everything beyond a few meters. Water streamed from the roofs and gathered beneath the soldiers' boots, while every movement sent muddy splashes across their already-soaked uniforms.

Y/n moved among them without a trace of hesitation. Her own clothes were drenched, the fabric clinging to her arms and legs, and wet strands of hair stuck against her cheeks. She barely seemed to notice. Her attention remained fixed on the soldiers.

She watched everything carefully : a fist pulled back too early, a foot placed incorrectly, a shoulder left exposed... Whenever she saw a mistake, she intervened, sometimes with a gesture, sometimes by physically shifting a soldier back into position. She wasn't trying to humiliate them. She simply refused to let them settle for what was comfortable.

They could do better. She knew they could.

She wanted them to understand what it meant to commit to an attack. Anger, frustration, exhaustion, those emotions could become strength when properly controlled. A soldier who learned to draw upon everything inside him could fight harder when it mattered. So she kept mushing them to their limits.

No matter how hard the fall, they all stood back up, one by one. Until one didn't. His foot had slipped and he had fallen in a puddle. The soldier remained there for several seconds, chest heaving as rain poured over his face. Eventually, he pushed himself onto his elbows. "Y/n-sama..."

Y/n crouched slightly.

"I can't take any more."

She studied him. His hands were trembling, his breathing was uneven. There was nothing left but exhaustion. Y/n's expression softened. "Then don't. You've given me enough for today. Go rest."

Relief immediately crossed his face. "Yes, Y/n-sama."

She gave him a small nod before standing, encouraging the remaining soldiers to keep training. She walked between the fighters again, correcting what needed correcting and pushing those who still had something left to give. She knew the difference. There was a difference between refusing to try and reaching the end of what your body could give. She would never punish the latter.

Then hurried footsteps caught her attention.

Y/n turned.

A young maid was running across the training grounds toward her. She carried an umbrella in one hand, in the other, she carried a neatly folded towel. Her two long blonde braids had begun to loosen from the rain and her hurried pace, damp strands framing her flushed face. The moment she reached Y/n, she immediately stepped beneath the rain herself and lifted the umbrella properly over the princess. Then she offered the towel.Y/n accepted it, pressing the dry fabric against her face. For the first time that afternoon, she seemed to remember just how thoroughly soaked she was.