Raiden's arms felt like they'd been turned into noodles.

Each swing of his wooden sword sent dull pain rippling through his shoulders and wrists. Sweat clung to his face and neck, dripping into his eyes as he tried — and failed — to keep his form steady.

He was panting hard, chest heaving, but Sir Leonard stood across from him, perfectly straight, perfectly calm, as though he hadn't been moving at all.

"Again," Leonard said simply.

Raiden gritted his teeth and swung. The wooden blade whooshed through the air, stopped halfway, then dipped as his arms gave out.

"I said again," Leonard repeated.

Raiden groaned. "If I swing again, my arms are going to pop off!"

"Then you'll have to learn to fight without them."

Raiden squinted up at him. "That's… not encouraging."

"Neither is your form," Leonard replied evenly.

Raiden stared, breathing hard. "I'm convinced you were born with no sense of mercy."

Leonard raised an eyebrow, the faintest ghost of amusement flickering across his otherwise stoic face. "Mercy is for battlefields, not training yards."

Raiden groaned again, dragging his sword tip against the ground as he tried to catch his breath. His mind was already drifting away from the pain, searching desperately for something else to focus on — anything, really — that wasn't the repeated humiliation of being so thoroughly bested by his teacher.

That's when the thought hit him.

He straightened slightly, a mischievous gleam in his tired eyes. "You know, Sir Leonard…"

"Yes?"

"You were gone for a while."

Leonard blinked once. "That's correct."

Raiden nodded thoughtfully. "You went out of the estate, right? Maybe even out of the city?"

"Yes," Leonard said slowly, clearly wondering where this was going.

Raiden's frown deepened. "And… you didn't get me anything?"

Leonard blinked again. "Excuse me?"

"You were out there!" Raiden protested, gesturing wildly despite his exhaustion. "Outside the city! And you didn't even think to bring back a little something? A souvenir? A snack? A sword maybe?!"

Leonard's composure didn't falter, but the subtle twitch at the corner of his mouth gave away his amusement. "You expected me to bring you a gift from a mission?"

Raiden jabbed a finger toward him. "You went out without your student! The least you could do is return with proof that you were thinking about me while you were gone!"

Leonard tilted his head slightly, as though genuinely considering the argument. "Hmm. I see. And tell me, Raiden… did you ask me to bring you anything before I left?"

Raiden froze. His mouth opened, then shut again. "Uh… no. But that's not the point!"

"It very much is," Leonard replied. "I am a knight, not a mind reader."

Raiden stared at him with exaggerated disbelief. "You can dodge an arrow in the dark but you can't guess that your tired, overworked student would like a present?!"

"Correct."

Raiden groaned dramatically and plopped himself down on the grass. "You're unbelievable."

"I'm consistent," Leonard said, arms crossed.

"You're heartless!" Raiden accused, pointing again. "You left me here to suffer and came back empty-handed!"

For a long, silent moment, Leonard simply looked at him — that perfectly calm, unshakable face betraying nothing. Then, very slowly, a smirk tugged at the corners of his lips.

"You really are dramatic," he said quietly. "You get that from your father."

Raiden blinked. "Wait—what? Father?!"

Sir Leonard didn't elaborate. Instead, he reached into the folds of his uniform coat. "As it happens, however…"

Raiden's irritation evaporated as soon as he saw what Leonard held out in his palm.

It was a small necklace — thin silver chain, simple in design but glowing faintly with mana. A single blue crystal sat in the center, pulsing with a steady light, like a calm heartbeat.

Raiden's mouth fell open. "Wha— is that— is that for me?"

Leonard's faint smirk grew. "I considered not giving it to you after your tantrum, but yes. It's for you."

Raiden's eyes sparkled. "Really?! You did get me something!"

"I did," Leonard said mildly. "But not because of guilt. It's a tool. Something to help you focus. An enchanted item that stabilizes mental concentration and reduces fatigue during prolonged training."

Raiden blinked at the necklace, then at Leonard. "So… basically, magic caffeine?"

"Not quite," Leonard said dryly. "It will sharpen your awareness and help you channel your mana more efficiently. You tend to lose focus when you grow tired. This should help."

Raiden reached out eagerly, almost trembling with excitement. "Can I?"

Leonard nodded once. "It's yours."

The boy took it reverently, holding it up to the light. The crystal gleamed softly in his palm, radiating a gentle warmth. He could feel the mana hum against his skin — not overwhelming, but soothing.

"It's… amazing," he whispered. "It feels like it's breathing."

Leonard watched him quietly, his expression softening for the briefest of moments. "It once belonged to a student of mine. A long time ago."

Raiden's eyes widened. "You had another student?"

Leonard gave a short nod. "A very long time ago. He was… much like you, in fact. Stubborn. Impulsive. Always running headfirst into things he wasn't ready for."

Raiden grinned. "So basically me."

"Yes," Leonard said, a faint chuckle escaping him. "But he had spirit. And determination."

"What happened to him?" Raiden asked quietly.

Leonard paused, the humor fading from his tone. "He became a fine swordsman. One of the best. But… like all great warriors, his time came sooner than it should have."

Raiden fell silent, staring at the crystal again. "So this necklace…"

Leonard nodded. "It's what remains of his spirit. His will to focus. His determination to master the blade. I think he would approve of you having it."

For a moment, Raiden didn't know what to say. The weight of the gift — both literally and figuratively — pressed against his chest. Then he looked up at Leonard, eyes shining.

"Thank you, Sir Leonard."

Leonard inclined his head slightly. "Don't thank me yet. The necklace amplifies your potential — but it will not make you stronger on its own. You still have to do the work."

Raiden nodded eagerly. "Then I'll train twice as hard!"

Leonard's smirk returned. "You already train too hard. I'd rather you train better."

Raiden laughed, slipping the necklace over his head. The crystal rested just below his collarbone, warm against his skin. Instantly, he felt something shift inside — like his scattered thoughts were gently aligning. The buzzing in his mind quieted, replaced by calm focus.

"This feels… weird. But good weird," he said, blinking a few times.

Leonard folded his arms. "Then use that clarity. Try your stance again."

Raiden jumped to his feet, suddenly energized. He grabbed his sword and dropped into position. This time, when he swung, the motion was cleaner — smoother. He didn't overcompensate or wobble. The rhythm was there.

Leonard nodded, pleased. "Better. Again."

Raiden obeyed. The next swing was sharper. And the one after that.

With each repetition, his movements steadied. His breathing synced to his steps. For the first time in days, his sword didn't feel heavy.

"Hey… it's working!" Raiden said between swings. "I can actually feel it working!"

Leonard smiled faintly. "That's the purpose."

Raiden kept going until his arms trembled again, though now it wasn't frustration pushing him — it was excitement.

Finally, Leonard raised a hand. "Enough. Rest before you collapse."

Raiden stopped reluctantly, panting but grinning. "That was amazing…"

He glanced down at the necklace again, then looked back up. "Sir Leonard?"

"Yes?"

Raiden smiled mischievously. "If you ever go on another trip, I want a sword next time."

Leonard raised an eyebrow. "A sword?"

Raiden nodded eagerly. "Not just any sword — a cool one! Maybe with engravings! Maybe—"

"Stop," Leonard said, holding up a hand. "You get one gift per year. That's already generous."

Raiden pouted. "You're cruel."

"I'm efficient," Leonard corrected. "And besides—" He leaned forward just slightly, that teasing glint back in his eyes. "You'd only lose the sword in your next clumsy fall."

Raiden gasped. "I would not!"

"You absolutely would."

"No, I— okay, maybe I would. But that's not—!"

Leonard chuckled again, turning away. "Go wash up, Raiden. Breakfast is almost ready."

Raiden blinked. "Wait, you're letting me eat first?"

Leonard gave him a rare, genuine smile. "You've earned it."

Raiden beamed, looking down once more at the glowing crystal resting against his chest. "Thanks again… teacher."

Leonard didn't respond, but as he walked ahead, Raiden could've sworn he saw his teacher's shoulders shake — just slightly — with quiet laughter.

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