A Second Day

Peter found the lesson to be a blend of pain and refreshment, a peculiar mix that oddly appealed to him.

On the flip side, Micah had a challenging time. He attempted to learn the wind stance against spears and failed miserably, earning a barrage of smacks to his back.

His back throbbed with pain, and he was sure he'd find bruises later.

As the day drew to a close at three, the group migrated to the playground.

Peter sat on a bench, observing the bustling activity around him.

Unexpectedly, the red-haired girl he had encountered earlier approached him, catching him off guard.

"Hi, Peter," she greeted with a smile, exposing her cleft chin.

"Hi."

"I noticed you seemed troubled today. What happened?"

Peter, stumbling over his words at the abrupt question, replied, "It's things that happened before I got here. They make me a little scared, but I manage to get over it easily."

He started to regret sharing, but it was too late to retract his words.

"Oh, well, I hope you feel better," she said, her comforting smile soothing Peter's fears.

"Thank you," he said, genuinely appreciating her concern this time.

She smiled and then surprised him with a warm hug.

"Have fun," she said, walking away.

Peter sighed in relief, grateful for the hug but also bracing for another unexpected encounter.

"I'm so embarrassed," Micah confessed, plopping down on the bench.

Peter was taken aback by Micah's embarrassment, considering he was being trained by one of the world's best fighters.

"What happened?" Peter inquired.

"He was trying to teach me the wind stance against spears, and I kept getting smacked in the back."

Micah sighed, making Peter sympathize with his frustration until he remembered something.

"Maybe your mind isn't calm."

Micah seemed troubled by the suggestion. "Calm, calm?! I'm perfectly calm!!!!!!"

Peter immediately assumed Micah was far from calm, envisioning smoke coming out of his nose.

But he thought he could help.

"Follow me."

Peter transformed from student to teacher, directing Micah to sit cross-legged on the ground. Micah was hesitant but complied.

"Now, close your eyes and think about the bad things that have happened."

"Okay."

Micah closed his eyes, feeling a peculiar sensation, as if something was shifting inside him. It made him feel slightly dizzy, like the world was turning upside down.

He started to feel lighter as memories flashed through his brain, a painful experience that made him almost give up.

Seconds from opening his eyes, Peter advised, "Now think of the good memories."

Micah eagerly switched to the good memories, feeling a surge of power.

Then, he started to feel a bit lighter, as if a series of memories were being wiped away.

Like he was being brainwashed.

He grew scared and skeptical of this process, but Peter urged, "Now, open your eyes."

He did, feeling a bit empty, yet a sense of courage and peace filled his mind.

Micah smiled in relief and started to feel a bit cocky.

"I'm going to redeem myself," he declared silently, fists clenched.

He got up in a rush, surprising Peter with his sudden determination.

"Where are you—"

"Not now!"

Peter cared less about him running off but wondered why.

Meanwhile, Micah sprinted towards the training base, bursting through walls and muscling through the door, startling Asiris.

"Well, what brings you here?" Asiris asked, calmly pouring his tea.

"I want to try again."

Asiris was surprised but impressed by Micah's eagerness to learn.

"Oh, well then—let's try again," he said, picking up his staff and rolling it into position.

Micah did the same, this time more confidently.

They circled around, finally stopping at the wind stance.

Micah charged, hoping to land an offensive hit on Asiris' back, which he did.

He stumbled a bit, allowing Micah another hit, but Asiris was now aware of Micah's strategy.

"I see, he's trying to rush me," Asiris deduced, now giving space between them.

The first attempt was successful, but Asiris was determined to make it the last.

The charge happened again, more vigorously this time, feeling like ascending levels of a game. Micah tried to evade Asiris' swift strikes.

He realized that this strategy wouldn't work and allowed himself to be hit in the back. He then waited for the next attack, swiftly dodging and sweeping under the swing.

Now, he was behind the trainer's line, capitalizing on the opportunity, and kicked Asiris in the back. Asiris stumbled and fell.

"Well—" Asiris began, faking a smile, "I see you've been practicing."

Micah nodded, feeling a newfound sense of respect.

He had succeeded.

He placed back his staff, but before he knew it, he found himself falling on his back as Asiris' staff swept him off the ground.

"Ow," he groaned, slowly getting up to see Asiris smirking.

As a lesson, Asiris advised, "Never let your guard down in battle."

Retrieving his staff, Asiris looked at Micah while he rubbed his head in pain.

"How did you suddenly do so well?"

Micah looked up, almost confused by the question.

"Well, so well in what?"

"When you first tried, you failed; but now you seem to have mastered it."

"I learned from Peter about finding peace in your mind."

"Peace."

"Yeah, you reflect on the bad and the good. It helps clear your mind."

Asiris, showing an emotion contrary to what he expected, responded, "I've been approaching this the wrong way."

"What do you mean?"

"I should have taught you about finding peace within your body instead of just mastering the sword."

"Oh, why?"

"Because I was afraid. I was tasked to train you, and I didn't want to bear the responsibility of losing the war."

"So, you don't trust me?"

"Well, it may seem that way," he said, grabbing his staff. "Go back into the castle; I need to meditate on this."

Disheartened, Micah walked slowly towards the door, leaving Asiris behind.

Was it true?

Did nobody trust him to win the war?

To save the earth?

He wasn't sure, but he felt a pang of disappointment. How could he gain the people's trust?