Morning crept in slow and pale, bleeding through the treeline and settling over the training ground like a held breath. The dirt was still damp from the night rain, darkened and soft underfoot. Azure stood barefoot at the center of a clearing, drawing a circle into the soil with the tip of a stick. He didn't rush. Each line was deliberate, clean, final.
Tomora watched from his bucket.
The water inside shifted restlessly, sloshing against the iron sides like an animal pacing its cage.
Azure stepped back and tapped the circle with his foot. "Inside this," he said, voice calm, almost lazy, "no splashing. No exploding. No tantrums."
The water stilled for half a second.
"Compress it," Azure continued. "Tight. Dense. Dangerous."
Tomora surged forward, slapping against the rim. "Yeah, yeah— I get it!"
The bucket tipped as he forced himself out, his liquid body spilling into the circle in a violent wave. The ground drank him in greedily, mud splashing outward.
"STAY TOGETHER, YOU STUPID WATER—!"
The pressure snapped.
Water detonated outward in a wild burst, soaking everyone within ten paces. Patricia yelped as it hit her face full-on, mud and grit splattering across her cloak. Jer staggered back, sputtering. Tala stood frozen, dripping.
Patricia wiped her eyes slowly and stared at the soaked clearing.
"…The bucket child has no patience."
Tomora's water sloshed back into the circle, vibrating with frustration. "I SAID STAY—!"
"Again," Azure said, unfazed.
Tomora went still.
This time, he didn't force it.
The ripples slowed. The surface darkened, thickened. Water folded inward on itself, tightening like muscle under skin. The air around the circle seemed to hum as pressure built, invisible and heavy.
Azure's expression shifted.
The water shrank. Smaller. Denser. Its color deepened to a cold, shadowed blue. At the center, a sphere formed—no larger than a clenched fist—perfectly smooth, vibrating with contained violence.
Azure inhaled sharply. "That… could break bone."
Tomora's voice came smug and breathless. "Heh. Told ya. I'm built different."
The sphere launched.
It struck the boulder at the edge of the clearing with a dull, brutal crack. Stone split down the middle, fractures racing like lightning before the rock collapsed in on itself.
Silence followed.
Jer swallowed. "If he keeps training…" she murmured, "…he might surpass Azure."
Tomora pulsed with pride.
By midday, the forest quieted. Heat shimmered over a nearby lake, its surface glassy and still. Azure guided Tomora to the shore, kneeling beside him as the water lapped gently at the edge.
"Next goal," Azure said, voice stripped of humor. "Reshape your essence."
Tomora's ripples slowed.
"Remember your body," Azure continued. "Your bones. Your weight. Your shape."
The water rose.
Slow at first. Careful. It twisted upward, spiraling like clay pulled by invisible hands. A torso emerged—smooth, uncertain. Shoulders formed. A chest. Then an arm.
Human.
Blue light traced faint veins beneath translucent skin.
Tala's breath caught. Tears welled instantly. "Tomora…"
The arm flexed. Fingers curled.
Tomora stared at it, stunned. For a heartbeat, he didn't speak. Didn't joke.
Then— "Tch. Easy. I'll have the rest soon."
The structure trembled.
And collapsed.
Water crashed back into the lake, ripples racing outward. The arm dissolved without resistance, gone as if it had never existed.
Tomora didn't move.
Azure sat beside the water, quieter now. "You're scared."
No response.
"That you might never be human again."
The lake reflected the sky in broken pieces.
"I'm not scared," Tomora said at last.
The water darkened.
"I'm pissed."
Azure smirked.
Night fell with torchlight and wind. Flames danced around the training field, shadows leaping across the dirt. Azure faced Tomora across the clearing, stance loose but ready.
"Rule one," Azure said. "Flow."
Water gathered beneath Tomora, forming a stable, gelatinous body. He leaned forward, coiled.
"Rule two," Azure continued, "strike like a flood."
Azure moved first.
Water whips lashed out, snapping through the air. Tomora barely dodged, his body rippling as strikes passed through him. He countered—compressed shots fired fast, sharp—
Miss.
Miss.
Miss.
Azure stepped in and kicked.
Tomora burst apart, splashing across the ground.
"Predictable," Azure said calmly.
The water reformed with a growl. "Predict this."
Compressed spheres fired in rapid bursts, hammering the field. Azure blocked most—but one struck his shoulder.
The impact exploded outward, hurling him back across the dirt. He skidded to a stop, laughing.
"That's more like it."
The final clash came fast.
Azure summoned a tidal surge, water rising like a living wall. Tomora compressed himself tighter, denser—then launched forward, a spear of pressure ripping through the wave.
They collided hard, crashing into the dirt.
They lay there, breathless.
Laughing.
Later, by the fire, Tomora watched his water hand flicker in the flames. Slowly—carefully—fingers formed. Held.
"Body or not," he whispered, "I'll reach the top."
The fire reflected in his eye, shimmering.
"Then I'll expose everything."
The hand stayed solid.
The night listened.