Maito rolled his shoulders, arms stretching with the lazy grace of a man on a morning walk—not someone about to spar.
We stood alone on the training ground, the air between us heavy with silence.
"I won't use my mana," he said, voice calm but absolute. "But you can use yours freely."
He turned his head slightly, just enough for one eye to find mine.
"I heard your element is wind," he added. "Come at me like a storm, Hiroshi."
No arrogance. No mocking. Just truth.
An elite speaking to someone trying to rise.
I clenched my fists, wind curling around my wrists like impatient snakes. Beneath my ribs, my heartbeat refused to settle. Maito Kasama—the legendary brother. The prodigy of the capital. The one whose very name made war veterans shut up and listen.
This was my shot.
"Let's go, Hiroshi!" Kaito shouted from the edge of the grounds, practically vibrating with energy. "Make the wind scream!"
I exhaled.
And then I moved.
Wind surged under my heels as I dashed forward, amplifying my speed in a single burst. I drove a punch straight toward Maito's chest—
He wasn't there.
He stepped aside.
One step.
Effortless.
My fist hit air.
"Not bad," Maito said, behind me now. "But predictable."
I spun fast, palm raised. The wind responded to my will, forming a sharp blast and launching it forward with a howl.
Dust exploded from the ground.
Leaves spiraled like shrapnel.
But through the chaos—
Maito walked.
Walked.
Right through it.
Didn't flinch. Didn't blink. Just let the wind pass over him like it was nothing but a breeze through tall grass.
I widened my stance, forcing myself not to panic.
Fine. If wind pressure wouldn't do it, maybe speed would.
I vanished from the spot, a wind-fueled leap carrying me behind him. My foot lashed out in a clean, powerful arc—
Caught.
His hand wrapped around my ankle mid-kick like he was catching a falling apple.
"Too slow."
A light shove.
I stumbled backward like a rookie.
I grit my teeth.
This is insane.
He's not even using mana. And he's toying with me.
Before I could reset, a sudden whoosh of fire burst from the edge of the field. A nearby tree ignited with a sharp crack, flames roaring up its trunk like it had been soaked in oil.
Maito glanced over his shoulder. "Kaito," he called out. "Don't burn the village down."
Kaito froze, one hand outstretched, smoke still curling from his fingers. "S-Sorry! I was practicing… fireball control…"
Maito sighed, as if scolding a puppy, then turned back to me.
"You're not going to strike while I'm distracted?"
I stiffened.
He was giving me an opening.
No time to think.
I dashed forward, wind howling around me, blades of air whispering at my heels. I struck fast—jab, elbow, knee, kick. Faster than I'd ever moved. My strikes blurred, the wind sharpening each motion into a weapon.
But—
He dodged everything.
Each punch missed by inches.
Each kick redirected by the subtlest movement of his weight.
He wasn't blocking.
He was dancing.
I gritted my teeth and faked left—then struck from the right with a reverse hook.
His hand caught my wrist mid-swing.
And before I could even process it—
Wham.
The world spun.
I hit the dirt flat on my back, breath knocked from my lungs. The sky looked a little too far away. The clouds drifted lazily above, uncaring.
Pinned.
Done.
Maito let go and stood over me.
"Not bad," he said, brushing the dust from his gloves. "You've got potential."
I groaned, forcing myself upright, spine protesting with every inch.
"That felt more like a beating than a lesson."
Maito chuckled.
"That was the lesson."
I sat there, catching my breath, sweat mingling with dust, heart still racing. My body ached. My pride stung.
But beneath it all…
Something burned.
A spark.
Even after all that, I wasn't angry.
I was hungry.
Hungry to close the gap.
Hungry to rise.
I looked up at Maito, who had already turned away.
Even his back looked invincible.
I was still weak.
But I wouldn't stay that way.
Not forever.