Sai sat on his bunk, sorting through his thoughts after the eventful day. Lars was already asleep, snoring softly under the blanket, and the dorm room was filled only by the quiet sound of wind whistling through the window cracks.
Suddenly, his phone rang. Sai flinched, holding the device in his hands.
"Who could that be so late…?" he muttered, seeing an unrecognized number.
The screen displayed a name: "Aella."
"How did you get my number?" he asked, trying to hide his irritation.
"I'm your trainer," the girl's voice replied. "Consider it my job to know every one of my student's numbers."
"Alright…" Sai frowned. "But who gave it to you?"
"They gave it to me as soon as I chose you. You're my student, and night training is part of what I need to do with you."
Sai took a deep breath. He understood there was no refusing. He just nodded to himself: well, he'd have to go.
---
The training ground in the Academy's night wing was dark, only dim lanterns illuminating the sandy surface. The wooden dummies cast long shadows that swayed in the wind.
"You're a second late," said Aella, standing on the opposite side of the grounds, her white eyes glowing in the darkness. "So, let's begin."
Sai raised his sword, trying to mimic her movements, but with every step, he felt the day's exhaustion weighing on his shoulders.
"Stop," she said suddenly, moving closer. "You're being too cautious."
"I… I don't want to make mistakes," Sai mumbled.
"Mistakes?" Aella smirked. "In this world, the weak aren't spared. You don't make mistakes—you survive. You make mistakes—you die. Understand the difference?"
Sai swallowed. A chill rose in his chest. She was right. His fear wouldn't protect him.
"Sai," Aella said, unexpectedly sharp, "remind me of your surname."
Sai hesitated. He opened his mouth, but the words got stuck.
"Well?" she frowned. "Do you even understand who your grandfather is?"
"No," he admitted quietly. "He's adoptive. But his surname is Asher."
Aella froze, as if not believing what she'd heard. Her gaze became intense, almost piercing through him.
"Asher…" she repeated. "Do you… understand what that means?"
Sai lowered his eyes. He only knew one thing: Grandpa was his only family, and as long as he had him, he could survive.
"It doesn't matter," he said quietly. "What matters is that I need to be strong."
"Correct," Aella nodded. "And you will be. But first, you must understand that fear isn't the enemy. Fear is a signal that you're alive. And the strong aren't those who feel no fear, but those who act in spite of it."
Sai sighed, gathering his thoughts. He felt his heart pounding and his muscles groaning with fatigue.
"Alright," he finally said. "Show me what to do."
---
The training lasted almost an hour. Aella checked his stance, his breathing, the precision of his strikes. Every movement of hers was refined, every word a blow to his consciousness.
Sai tried to maintain his balance, to repeat the movements, but one mistake led to another.
"Stop," Aella said suddenly. "You're too tense. Relax."
"I can't…" he replied.
"You can. You're just afraid."
Sai froze. His gaze involuntarily slid to the revolver in his pocket. He felt its faint tremor again. As if the weapon, too, could sense the fear.
"This revolver…" he said quietly. "Why does it react like that?"
Aella raised an eyebrow.
"You're keeping it too close to yourself. Everything in this world senses your energy, your doubts, your strength. Even objects."
Sai fell silent, but something clicked inside him. He felt—something was waking up within him, a tiny spark he could no longer ignore.
"Tomorrow will be worse," Aella said, looking at him. "But for now, you've taken a step. Remember: fear is your hand. Don't run from it, take hold of it."
Sai nodded, feeling a strange calm. He understood that fear was no longer the enemy. It was a signal, a tool, a… chance.
He lifted his gaze to the dark sky above the Academy. The clouds parted, allowing a rare moonlight to break through.
"I… won't be weak," he whispered. "Never again."