Facing the boy before her, Yun Shi felt a prickle of caution, like frost on the neck; fighting him was never a favorable affair.

"What’s wrong? Aren’t you going to attack?"

Shitou Yuya smiled, treating the bout like a breeze on a summer noon; Yun Shi felt belittled, a nameless spark kindled.

"Shut up. I’ll beat you till you can’t stand. Brace yourself!"

For now, words were the only blade she could swing sharper than his; a brittle shield in a storm.

She hadn’t expected today’s training to be this; her heart sighed like a wind through old eaves.

Last night, after the festival ended, Kananin Rin left satisfied, and Yun Shi’s brief holiday faded like lanterns snuffed out.

Returning to routine felt like stepping into cold water; she didn’t like it.

Thinking changes nothing; duty is a stone. Yun Shi lowered her stance and locked eyes on him.

She knew her brother’s strength: in the Underworld, he had carved a name like a blade in stone. She, a nameless pawn, couldn’t compare.

Reaching his level felt like climbing a sheer cliff in rain.

She gave a wry smile; when her eyes rose, battle-fire flickered like a torch in wind.

Whoosh.

She stepped, vanished like a swallow darting, and in a blink reached Yuuya. Her blade fell, a rain-drop about to strike; Yuuya only smiled.

Yuuya dipped his waist and slipped past the killing line, casual as brushing leaves; child’s play to him.

"Ever heard not to underestimate your enemy?"

Yun Shi hadn’t bet on such a simple strike against an Underworld veteran; it was a feint. She swept his legs; his weight dropped. Her knife spun from her hand and flashed toward him.

Yuuya planted both palms, turned like a willow in wind, and knocked the blade aside. Yun Shi used the opening, drew a second dagger from nowhere, and pressed in.

Yuuya offered a faint smile, cool as moonlight.

"Didn’t expect you to stash another weapon. Color me surprised."

"What can I do? I’m not cocky enough to beat you head-on. Gotta use my wits."

They traded words while trading blows, an odd dance to onlookers; for siblings honed for years, it was natural.

"Little Yun, your power’s still soft, but your mind’s sharp."

Yuuya sighed and, in the same breath, bent past another killing arc.

"Flattery won’t cheer me, Brother. I know you’re trying to rattle me."

Yun Shi answered his chatter while blades sang and her kicks cut air; she had one aim—beat him.

"As expected of my sister—sharp to the point."

"Please, that’s Combat 101. If you can’t stay calm, how do you win?"

"True. We’ve memorized the clan’s training maxims."

Raised in the Clan Head’s estate, they knew drills like scripture; childhood carved rules deep. Basic mistakes were rare as snow in summer.

Because of that, their strength outstripped peers, and they dared roam the Underworld like wolves under moonlight.

Yet even so, the clan didn’t see Yun Shi as Yuuya’s equal. The reason was simple…

She hadn’t learned the clan’s secret art.

The Four Pupils Clan’s rules were iron. Blood kin must master the secret art before coming of age, same as the Flamebu Family and the Divine Ling Family. Unlike other clan heads’ houses, this harsh creed culls the weak yet forges Underworld elites.

That’s why they’re counted among the Underworld’s strongest houses.

The fit survive; the weak are meat.

"Still, I refuse to lose to you like this!"

Her blades danced, attacks mounting like a rising tide. Yuuya admitted it with his feet; he couldn’t step out lightly and had to treat her with cool focus.

"What can I say? You’re a storm."

Yuuya could only smile wryly; his sister’s strength surged like spring growth. She hadn’t learned the secret art, but…

Yuuya knew why she couldn’t grasp it.

The barrier was clear to him; he’d crossed that step himself.

If she wanted power, then he should get serious.

In a blink, power rippled off Yuuya like heat from a forge. His eyes bled crimson—Blood Pupil—and his gaze sliced her like a hunter’s knife. Yun Shi felt danger bloom.

Thud.

As expected, his speed leapt several tiers. He blurred and vanished. Yun Shi tried to quiet her breath and read his line, when a chill brushed her back.

Too late. Her counter met his strike; she was sent flying like a leaf in gale.

"Cough—too much. You actually opened Blood Pupil? Do you need to go that hard?"

She rose slowly, pain pulsing like bruised drums, and complained. Yuuya let Blood Pupil fade and wore his usual easy smile.

"Sorry, sorry. You okay?"

"Drop dead, you jerk. Who treats their—own sister—like that!"

"I did apologize. How about I treat you? Let’s go out."

"Hmph."

Inside, joy bubbled like a kettle, and forgiveness felt sweet. But pride is a mask; Yun Shi turned away and sulked.

Yuuya gave a bitter smile. He knew her temper and let words drift.

"I’ll grab lunch for you. Wait a bit~"

A good brother knows when to cool the embers and bring her favorite food. Noon was near; a meal together is a small sun in the day.

Yuuya set off, cheerful as soda fizz, shamelessly doting.

Watching her brother’s back fade, Yun Shi let out a breath like steam. She found shade under a tree and waited for his bento.

"Good work, Miss~"

"Here, a towel~"

Mia and Eil, who’d watched from the sidelines, hurried over. Mia offered a towel. Yun Shi didn’t bother with thanks; she wiped sweat like rain off armor.

"Impressive, Miss. Big jump from a week ago. Composite score from five to six. Congratulations~"

Eil lifted his logbook, inked today’s notes, and grinned as he congratulated her.

"Oh."

It stirred little in Yun Shi; at best, it felt like one more step toward a distant peak.

But this level wouldn’t let her roam the Underworld freely.

Kananin Rin’s words still rang like temple bells. She wanted a name in the Underworld, and rights carved by her own hand, like her brother.

"Eil."

"Yes."

"At this pace, how long till I learn the secret art?"

"Hmm… roughly, one to three years."

"Hey, stupid brother, don’t just say that!"

"Mia, I’ve tracked people for years. My math’s sound."

Eil’s words left Yun Shi dazed, like mist lifting.

One to three years—so long, and still uncertain.

At this pace, how could she catch her brother’s shadow?

Like this, her goal felt far as the horizon.

"That’s because those people are trash, so they need that long."

A strange voice cut in from across the way. The trio looked. On the far training ground, several faces wore sneers like hooked thorns, disdain laid bare at Yun Shi.

She knew them—the branch family. They often looked at her like grit in the eye.

Yun Shi preferred silence, but they never let up, like flies in summer.

"I bet you’ll never learn it in your life."

"If you ask me, you’re trash."

"You’re main house, sure. But in a real fight—do you think you match us?"

Dislike didn’t change facts; Yun Shi was weaker. Even when she fought Yuuya, he held back like rain spared in drought.

These ones were different. She’d fought them many times; victory never came.

The branch called them its pride, star-seeds of the next generation.

So, there was nothing to refute; truth stands like a stone.

"What did you say! How dare you disrespect the Miss!"

"Yeah! Apologize! The Miss isn’t trash!"

Mia and Eil boiled like kettles; hearing their lady insulted was unbearable.

Yun Shi lowered her head. Only her clenched fist spoke, knuckles white as bone.

In this world, strength is the law; without it, respect is smoke.

She was weak—good for her age, sure, yet still behind those across the field.

They’d come straight from the battlefield, iron tempered by real blood. Not the same tier.

She’d avoided the brutal front thanks to main-blood status and trained under the main house’s roof.

All of it was a cold, simple reality.

"Did I say anything wrong? She’s weaker, plain fact. On the field, she’d die in a blink."

"Right. Born in blessing—you can’t grasp our pain."

"You have everything. That’s why we can’t stand you, Four Pupils Yun Shi."

Their feelings were understandable; the battlefield takes friends like a flood takes bridges. They’d hate a pampered miss. But…

Forcing your grief onto others is still wrong.

"No. The Miss did nothing wrong. She works hard!"

So it shouldn’t be like this; justice should be a straight road.

Mia truly couldn’t bear this scene; her heart twisted like wet cloth.

"Bullying the Miss—what kind of skill is that? You’re the ones who don’t understand!"

Eil burned, baffled like a moth at glass.

He knew she was good. Why did no one see it? Weak, yes, yet kinder than most, more deserving of respect—wasn’t that enough?

"Mia. Eil. Enough."

"But—"

"If you can’t argue, then shut it, trash!"

"You’ve lost nothing. Like this, you’ll protect what matters? Don’t make me laugh!"

Being cursed, scorned, pressed down—it was only…

Habit.

It had always been like this. Her parents taught early that strength weighs the world. Even being bullied, the reason is no strength—she was raised on that lesson.

Now, failing to meet their hopes was, again, because she lacked strength. That’s the teaching etched in her bones.

In the end, it's no strength—an empty scabbard in a night wind, simple as that.

"Shut up," Yuuya barked, a whip-crack in the cold air.

As they moved to flay Yun Shi with words, Yuuya's voice cut in like thunder over dry grass.

Yuuya's anger scared even strangers, a caged tiger's breath steaming in winter bars.

He'd stepped away for a moment, and trouble found his sister like rain through a cracked roof; how could he not burn.

"Brother..." she breathed, her voice thin as a thread of smoke.

To step in now and burn for her—only he would, a lone lantern against a night wind.

But still, a pebble of doubt rippled her heart's pond.

Enough, she thought, a door closing like a blade's click.

This was her own matter, a weight she meant to carry like a stone pack.

Yun Shi stood without a sound and walked the other way, a shadow rowing upstream.

No one spoke, words frozen like frost, because they feared what Yuuya might do in this storm of rage.

"Wait, Little Yun," Yuuya called, his voice thrown like a lasso.

Yuuya reached to catch her, but Yun Shi snapped his hand off like shaking rain, and walked straight down her own road.

"Stop—why are you leaving?" he demanded, his words hammering like hail.

"None of your business," she shot back, a knife flick in the dark.

"How's it not my business—you're my sister, and a brother should care," he flared, a bonfire throwing sparks.

"No one asked you to care—it's just your wishful dream," she said, cold as a winter blade.

Anyway, this was her lot, a line carved in bone.

Fine, she thought; after today, the river would smooth again, silt settling.

But right now, she needed calm, a cool stone held to a fevered brow.

"I am the weak one," she said, a candle guttering in draft.

In this dark world, those without strength are snuffed like candles.

"In the end, no one helps me," she murmured, a lone boat on black water.

The weak only scrape by, weeds clinging between stones after a storm.

"So why come playing the selfless hero—got nothing better to do?" she tossed, words like pebbles off his armor.

"I..." he faltered, breath fluttering like a trapped moth.

"Big Brother, your future shines bright, so don't let me stain your life with a black mark," she said, a bitter curl of smoke.

Silence fell, twice over, like snow on drums; Yuuya stood mute, not knowing which word to lift.

If he let this run, their bond would crack again, an old glaze fracturing along the same cold lines.

He couldn't let that happen, not while breath still smoked in winter air.

Now he had to pull it back, like a kite in a gust, and lay his heart bare.

"If no one else will help you, then... let me protect you," he said, offering his back like a shield.

If he spoke it whole, she would understand, like dawn washing soot from eaves.

They were brother and sister, kin under the same sky, two rings on one old tree.

"...I don't get what you're saying," she replied, her eyes shuttered like a rain-soaked window.

Yun Shi dropped the words like a cold pebble and walked away from his side.

Hearing it warmed her a little, like tea in cold hands, but the cup trembled.

It wasn't allowed, a gate barred by iron and vow.

She couldn't be under someone's umbrella; she wanted to guard all she had with her own strength, like a forged blade, not a borrowed crutch.