Troubled minds

Under the moonlight, Anakin swings his sword, footsteps chasing the flurry of his sword.

His body bends like a reed in the wind as he sweeps the blade overhead, then launches into a perfect somersault. The night air whips past his face as he spins, his dark robes billowing around him. Landing on his feet, he thrusts the sword forward with force. Chest heaving with the rise and fall of his breath, he holds the stance.

His eyes harden as that moment replays in his mind - Yetsune cornering him against the wall, the intensity of her gaze, the smirk on her lips. The scene haunts him, refusing to fade. Each movement of his sword grows sharper, more intense, his footwork increasingly swift as if he's trying to slash away the persistent memory.

At the edge of the training ground, Yisu and Vanya watch him from the shadows, their arms folded.