The training hall was silent, save for the rhythmic creaking of the cedar beams under the mountain wind.
Seijirou sat in a perfect seiza posture, the fabric of his white Gi settled sharply against his frame.
Across from him, Shirohara Ichibei sat with his eyes narrowed, his gaze traveling over the boy—no, the man—before him.
If before, Seijirou look so uncertain and chaotic, now the air around Seijirou felt calm, almost still, like the eye of a hurricane.
"You have the look of someone who has finally stopped running from himself," Ichibei rumbled, his voice filled with a rare, grudging respect. "The uncertainty that clouded your Ki before... the hesitation of a soul that didn't know where it belonged... it's gone. You've returned from the Void with eyes that see the end of the road."
Seijirou offered a small, tranquil smile. "Is that so? I suppose I just finally realized that I'm the only one who gets to decide where my path leads."
