The morning after the storm carried a strange weight.
Riverbend bustled like always—smoke from chimneys, goats bleating, women hanging wet clothes. But eyes turned every time Orin passed, and the looks no longer said troublemaker. They said something else now.
Half-respect. Half-fear.
An old woman left bread by his doorstep and shuffled away before he opened the door. A butcher pressed a strip of dried meat into his hand and muttered, "For last night," before looking embarrassed and fleeing. Two children followed him at a distance, whispering, "That's him! The Orc-smasher!"
Orin marched down the street like he owned it. His shirt was still torn, scars proudly displayed. He bit into the dried meat, chewed loudly, and yelled over his shoulder, "Don't worry, I'll protect my future wife's village anytime!"
Half the people groaned. The other half chuckled nervously.
From behind, a voice screeched. "ORINNNN!"
His ear was seized and twisted so hard he almost dropped his food. Yira, hair tied back for chores, apron dusted with flour, yanked him down to her level.
"You little devil!" she hissed. "Future wife? You're ten!"
Orin winced, mouth still full. "T-ten and three quarters!"
She twisted harder.
"Yira, you'll rip my ear off!" He wrenched free, rubbing it, but grinned wide. "But you'd be jealous if I really married her, right?"
Her cheeks went pink, eyes narrowing to slits. "Marry you? I'd rather marry a goat!"
Orin brightened. "Which goat? I'll fight it!"
Yira's blush deepened. She shoved him away so hard he stumbled into a barrel. "Idiot!"
The villagers laughed openly this time. A man called out, "Careful, Yira! If you don't watch him, he'll drag home a queen and call her his bride!"
Orin puffed his chest. "Exactly!"
Yira stormed off muttering curses, apron swishing like a whip.
By the river, Code stood waiting. Staff planted firm, gaze steady as always.
"You've rested," Code said when Orin approached. "Now we begin properly."
Orin bounced on the balls of his feet, fists up. "Yes! More punching!"
"Not punching."
Orin froze, blinking. "...What?"
"Breathing."
Orin stared. "Breathing?"
"Without control, your ki will consume you. You will learn to draw it in, shape it, and release it."
"That sounds boring."
"It is life."
Code sat cross-legged on the riverbank, staff across his lap. "Watch."
He closed his eyes. His breathing slowed. The air around him shifted—subtle at first, then undeniable. Leaves nearby shivered without wind. The river's surface rippled in perfect circles outward from where he sat. When he opened his palm, golden-white ki glowed there, humming quiet as a heartbeat.
He closed his fist. The glow vanished. The river smoothed again.
Orin gawked, jaw hanging. "That's awesome!"
"Now you."
Orin plopped down, crossed his legs, and scrunched his face like he was trying to lift a boulder with his brain. He inhaled, chest ballooning.
And farted loud enough to startle a duck from the water.
Code pinched the bridge of his nose. "Again."
Orin, already laughing, tried once more. This time his aura flared—but instead of calm ripples, the water beside him exploded upward like a bucket had been kicked. He tumbled backward, drenched.
"Did it work?!" he yelled from the mud, coughing riverwater.
"No."
"Looked cool though!"
Code muttered something in a language Orin didn't know but suspected meant idiot.
Later, Code planted him in the clearing, stance wide.
"Martial forms," he instructed. "Your strength is wild. Structure will double it."
"Structure?" Orin tilted his head. "Like building a house?"
"Like building bones strong enough to hold the house."
Code dropped low into a balanced stance, staff angled, movements smooth. "Root your feet. Bend your knees. Hips follow shoulders. Everything aligned." He demonstrated, striking slow but precise, each motion sharp.
Orin nodded seriously. Then immediately dropped into a squat so low his butt nearly touched the dirt. His arms dangled like a gorilla's, fists curled.
"Observe! Beast Stance!"
Code blinked. "...What?"
Orin thumped his chest, crouched, then lunged forward with both arms swinging. He bulldozed through a practice log Code had set up, snapping it in half with his shoulder. The log toppled. Orin whooped. "See? Beast Stance never loses!"
"That is not a stance. That is suicide."
"Suicide that wins!" Orin flexed both arms, grinning wide.
Code dragged a hand down his face. "I'm training a lunatic."
But even he had to admit: the force behind the move had been frightening.
The sun was high when Yira appeared again, carrying a basket. She froze at the sight before her: Orin shirtless, body slick with sweat and bruises, crouched in his absurd gorilla squat, roaring with every lunge at practice logs. Code stood nearby correcting posture in vain.
Yira's cheeks flushed. She dropped the basket a little harder than necessary. "Lunch," she snapped.
Orin's head whipped around, grin splitting. "Yira! Did you see? Beast Stance! I'm becoming a man worthy of my bride!"
Her blush exploded. "Bride my—!" She grabbed a piece of bread from the basket and hurled it. It smacked him in the forehead.
He laughed, caught it in his mouth, chewed happily. "Mmm! Wife material."
Yira's face went crimson. "SU-MI-KU-DA!" she shrieked, inventing curses as she stomped away.
The villagers watching from afar burst out laughing, muttering bets about when Yira would strangle him or marry him.
Code sighed. "You invite death."
"Or love!" Orin said through a mouthful of bread.
By evening, Orin was sprawled in the grass, sweat steaming, chest rising like a drum. Code sat nearby, staff across his knees, eyes on the fading light.
"You are raw," Code said at last. "Too raw. But there is potential."
Orin groaned, rolling onto his side. "Potential is good, right?"
"Potential without control is a sword swinging wild. It kills master and enemy alike."
Orin smirked weakly. "Then I'll swing until I only hit the enemy."
"Fool."
"Genius."
Code studied him long. In the boy's grin he saw fire and recklessness, but also something harder—something that would not bend even when it should.
This boy might master power no man should touch, he thought grimly.
Orin, meanwhile, curled into the grass and declared, "Tomorrow, Beast Stance will evolve!"
Code buried his face in his hands.