They chalked it on the townhouse wall where the morning light fell honestly.
Goals— House balance: 4g (1g deposit already paid)
— Upgrades / New teammate fund: 6g
— Daily quota: ≥1g until the F3 probe
Trixie wrote the figures in a tidy hand, then added little squares to color in as days passed. Her tail tapped once as she boxed the numbers, then stilled when she noticed it.
"Four and six," she said, recapping the chalk. "We hit the probe ready, then climb the ledger."
"Breath first," Taro said. "Then coin."
They warmed up in the lane outside: Armor Steps on the townhouse stairs—step, exhale, settle; Guard Melt on the home bag—flick-flick on one breath; Rope-Cut Step through a hallway strung with twine at ankle and knee. Trixie mirrored him with a buckler parry ladder (high-mid-low) and a neat Shield Shoulder entry that moved him exactly one brick and no more.
Recognized Training (utility).
Blessed Growth: +2 to all stats.
Technique Progress: Snap Step flagged for refinement; Guard Melt I → 90%.
"Storm drills," Trixie said, satisfied. "Now we go earn."
The dungeon met them with cool breath and the patience of stone. They took the arch → well elbow → den flank route like it belonged to them. Wolves became common place, and easy to handle by now. They went on a conscious pattern that was flexible and easy to weave into combinations to be ready for any changes. A warg pair tried a high-low tangle on Trixie and met Buckler Guard I's newest trained response, a buckler smash into a jaw, and her swords quick stab into a shoulder joint to slow them down. She backs away behind her shield as Taro takes her place doing an uppercut to finish the broken jawed one and a one two hook combo to smash the damaged shoulder into the heart of the Warg. Their faces smiled gently at each other as a gentle reminder that they are watching out for the other.
The alchemist bench in their loop smelled as they always did—sharp and chemical. A goblin crouched there, eyes stuck on his own work as they entered. He turned to face them as he smelled their scent waft into his lab, but a quick Counter-Tempo stole his half-beat; Taro's short cross tapped the jaw hinge, and sleep did what sleep does. Trixie clipped three phials to her harness, lips pursed in concentration; he liked the way the little glass shapes stopped rattling the instant she was satisfied with the knots.
Other alchemists made themselves known, but were quick to fall to their teamwork, soon the 5 man group was reduced to three dead and two running.
They didn't chase. They turned in the tidy way success asks for.
Combat Adaptation Registered.
Blessed Growth: +2 to all stats.
Snap Step (Novice → I) — cleaner AGI→Power conversion on exhale.
They stepped into noon with sacks that sounded like a plan and rain threatening the western sky.
Kelda thumped coin like she meant to teach numbers manners. "Five dire—Sixty. Twenty wolves—Sixty. Thirty ears—Thirty. Phials—three. Four Alchemist tokens—one hundred and twenty. Total: two gold, seventy silver."
"Thank you," Taro said.
"Storm by mid-afternoon," Kelda added, eyes on the clouds. "If your gutters fail, don't come crying. Come paying."
"We planned for paying," Trixie said, polite and pleased.
They bought pitch, hemp, and lamp oil on the way home (−10s). The first drops hit as Taro set the ladder; Trixie braced it and put a patch on the seam with careful thumbs, breath syncing with pressure. The gutter took the rain and, for once, did not argue about it. Inside, the hearth's old damp quieted under the smell of fresh pitch.
She set tea steeping. He set kit drying. Neither made a fuss about the way they wiped rain from each other's cheeks—small, capable touches that felt like they belonged.
Afternoon brought drills under a low ceiling in the guild yard's practice alley. Poles and benches turned space mean; breath made it possible.
Load-Bearing Breath II carried his guard through ten long counts without stealing from his feet. Trap lane reading at speed turned twine lines into angles Trixie could call in cadence.
"On your out," she murmured, voice even. "Now. And now."
They ran it until the yard steward grunted that they were boring him, which was the compliment they wanted.
Meaningful Training Registered.
Blessed Growth: +2 to all stats.
Team Passive progress: Call-and-Breath I → 70%.
Weave Engine I: progress ↑.
"Short loop, then home," Taro said, buckling his guard. "Wet stone, slow feet."
"Slow feet keep bones whole," Trixie agreed.
They took a rain-slick F1/F2 pass for practice. A hob lieutenant tried to make a choke point clever; Guard Melt softened the guard; Centerline Surge punctuated the mistake with an end to their battle. They left the dungeon with a little more coin and, more important, the feel of wet footing in their calves.
Evening turn-in: +64s.
They bought nothing more than soup and bread (−4s), and took the long way back beneath the bell's patient shadow.
Inside, the house breathed like it had decided to keep them.
They checked the rope knots together, fingers brushing, the bag turning once and then settling. Trixie lifted her slate and colored in two new squares: Purse → ~4g 36s by her count.
"Tomorrow," she said, "we wake the door and ask it nicely."
"Nicely," he said. "And with breath."
She looked at his shoulders—the little quivers that meant a day had set in—and then at the tick by the hearth that had learned their weight.
"You're carrying the morning and the stone," she said. "Lie down again. I'll help you set them down so you can rest easier tonight."
He shed the armor that guards his life; pulled his slightly damp shirt away from his body; the air met his skin cool and kind.
Trixie enjoyed the sight once again as she warmed a little oil between her palms until it smelled faintly of pine and sweetness.
"Here," she said, gentle and certain.
He stretched prone. Her hands worked broad at first—palms from neck to belt—then with the heel to the shoulder blades, thumbs along his spine muscles, little circles at the traps. He breathed in the way she asked, and on the exhale she pressed a hair more and something let go. He made a low, relieved sound that didn't require apology.
"Too much?"
"Just right."
She followed the grain along his lats, listened with her hands, adjusted a finger-width when a knot told her the truth. "Breathe for me," she murmured, and a knot came undone. His chest breathed easier and her hands became more sure in their purpose.
When her hands had grown sore from use, she hesitated, then stepped onto the tick and set one careful foot on the long run of his thigh.
"I can walk again, if you want that is."
"I trust you. And it felt amazing yesterday. No need to hesitate."
She found her balance like a dancer who had rehearsed—heel on hamstring, ball along glute, a careful step across the spine and back, her weight settled and his muscles gave just enough to sigh under her feet. She matched her pressure to his exhale, lightening on the inhale. Her ankles flexed with quiet strength; the subtle roll of her toes along the erectors coaxed rather than conquered. He felt a heel settle beside the scapula, then rock a thumb's worth until a stubborn line yielded. Her toes then came to pass, using the pads of her toes and the ball of her foot to pinch and knead the muscles too hard to reach by heel alone. His back gave, and his breath evened out.
"Shoulders?" she asked, breath a little quick from balancing. But a smile in her voice as she enjoyed the feel of him relaxing under her care.
"Yes, always."
One foot between shoulder blades, one at the far trap; his out-breath met her weight and the knot surrendered easier this time, like it knew to surrender to her skills and pressure. He made a sound he would not make unless the situation called for it, then breathed deeper and let the warmth spread, the situation called for more of that sound. She walked him like that for nearly half an hour—heels, toes, ball, a small chorus over back, shoulders, thighs—until the day's story in his muscles agreed to turn the page.
She stepped down, smoothed the oil with her palms, and sat back on her heels. The quiet here had weight—two breaths, synced without trying.
"You're protective," she said softly, like a secret she wanted to keep and share. "You watch over me and keep me safe when I thought you would be so busy keeping yourself safe. Something I am glad to find in a master."
He turned his head to see her. "You're strong," he said. "Honest. That's the kind of personality I respect and will always defend."
A beat passed that felt suspiciously like a promise. She cleared her throat first, flustered and pleased. "Turn over a little. Your feet… may I?"
He blinked, then smiled. "Of course."
She knelt at his calves and, with the same neat care, pressed her thumbs along the arches, rolled the pads of her fingers across the ball, eased the tendons with slow, sure lines. He hadn't realized how much the day lived in his feet until her touch found it and persuaded it to leave.
"Thank you," he said, and meant it. On instinct and gratitude, he lifted her foot—warm from the work, strong from the life—and kissed the top lightly, then the arch, a quiet benediction. "For carrying me when I needed it."
Her ears colored; her breath caught; her tail, the impossible creature that it was, flicked once in joy before she brought it to order. In her tribe, a man who let a woman walk his back and tended her feet answered an old question with intention; a kiss to foot and sole made the intention clear. She doubted he knew, and so she tucked the understanding away carefully. But the sentiment bloomed anyway, a small warmth in her chest that imagined a life beyond the collar's clock.
"Thank you," she murmured back, voice small and bright.
They settled under the rough blanket, close because the bed was small and because closeness had become the kind of comfort neither felt a need to explain. The new bag moved once in the draft from the window and decided to be still. Outside, rain worked the gutter line they'd made honest, and the house kept its promise.
Status — Taro
Class: Monk I
Title: Martial God's Champion (SSS)
HP:660 base (10× END 66) → 1160 effective (END 116 during combat/training)
Ki:59
Base Stats(Ch.10 → after Ch.11)
STR: 64 → 68
END: 62 → 66
AGI: 60 → 64
SPIRIT: 41 → 45
MIND: 38 → 42
LUCK: 37 → 41
Ki: 55 → 59
Effective Physicals(SSS +50 active)STR 118 | END 116 | AGI 114
New/Updated
Snap Step I: cleaner breath-led micro-lunge; better AGI→Power conversion.
Anchor Step (Novice): steadier stance while bracing/ladder on exhale.
Call-and-Breath I: progress ↑ (≈70%).
Blessed Growth: +2 all (storm drills + F2 loop).
Team
Call-and-Breath I, Cover Call I (with Trixie).
Trixie — Notes
Buckler Guard I (timing refined), Porter Brace I; Riposte (Concept) unlocked on clean parry.
House ledger discipline: dangerous (in the best way).
Cultural quiet kept: a kiss to foot and sole filed under possibly important later.
Ledger Start: 1g 16s
Midday haul (F2): +2g 70s
Yard/patch/oil: −10s
Evening loop: +64s
Food: −4s
End purse: ~4g 36s
Goal bars:— House balance:4g remaining— Upgrades / New teammate fund:6g target
Planner — Probe Eve
Dawn: gutter recheck after rain; light wall drills (maintenance).
Late morning: F2 short loop; no overuse of Surge.
Dusk: kit oil; early lights out.
Predawn: muster for F3 probe — "Bring breath, not bravado."