Chapter 21. Good Things Should Be Shared (2)

No sooner had Ralph finished speaking than two people emerged from the forest.

Rustle.

The first to push through the bushes was Johann. He looked much the same as he had six months ago. However, the person following him was different.

The one who had been much shorter than his peers had grown significantly, reaching 170 cm in just half a year. His somewhat frail body had now developed muscles, giving him a robust appearance. His face still had the innocent smile of a young boy, but everything below his neck had changed completely—this was Yurii.

Creak.

A sword at his waist jingled as he walked out of the forest, and a light blue earring glinted in the sunlight.

Thud, thud.

As Yurii and Johann, who had arrived late, walked calmly, Ralph frowned.

"You're late."

"Hmm, I was teaching this guy the surefire strategy to win this sparring session..."

At Johann's words, Yurii snorted.

"Surefire strategy, huh? You were just waiting for the old man to finish his business, weren't you?!"

"Brat!"

"What?!"

"...Do you understand the pain of someone suffering from constipation?!"

"No, I don't care about that."

"Only the one who understands this pain can throw a stone at me!"

"Old man, if you can't even do your business properly, what can you do well?"

"What, you brat?!"

Seeing the two bickering loudly despite being late, Ralph lost his temper.

After watching them every day for half a year, he was now thoroughly fed up.

He sighed and waved his hand.

"Stop it and let's start. How many months has it been since we started this kids' sparring session?"

"It was your idea to make that bet, wasn't it?"

"I didn't know it would take this long! I thought it would be over in a few days at most!"

Johann's eyes, which had narrowed in anger, now looked at Ralph with a 'So what?' expression.

Ralph's raised eyebrows drooped helplessly.

"...Fine, let's really start now."

At that, Yurii stepped forward and joined the conversation.

"Let's do this sparring session with real swords."

"Real swords?"

Yurii nodded, and Ralph turned to him with a slightly worried look.

Sure enough, Mutsu, who had been standing nearby, blinked in surprise.

"Y-Yurii-sama?"

He had already been uncomfortable with just a regular sparring session, but now with real swords?

Mutsu was at a loss.

Seeing this, Ralph sighed and was about to refuse the real sword sparring when—

"Hey, coward."

This was the nickname Yurii had used for Mutsu over the past half year.

Hearing this, Mutsu looked at Yurii with wide eyes.

"You said you didn't understand, right? Why I'm so serious about learning techniques that can harm people."

"Ah..."

Mutsu's lips parted slightly as he recalled the conversation they had had before.

Meanwhile, Yurii's hand moved to the hilt of his sword.

Swish.

The silver blade slowly revealed itself.

Whereas Yurii had looked awkward handling a wooden sword six months ago, now there was no trace of that awkwardness.

Swish.

Yurii pointed the fully drawn sword at Mutsu.

The moment Mutsu's flustered face came into view, a memory from the past flashed through Yurii's mind.

* * *

Three months ago.

The sun was setting in the west.

Ugh.

A loud sound of someone emptying their stomach echoed from somewhere in the forest.

Ugh, ugh!

Holding onto a tree, Yurii heaved and staggered forward.

After a short walk, he reached a nearby stream, rinsed his mouth, and leaned against a rock, collapsing to the ground.

"Ugh..."

A groan escaped his lips.

To be precise, he didn't even have the energy to suppress the groan.

Indeed, his appearance was pitiful.

His hair was disheveled, and he had deep dark circles under his eyes. His clothes, soaked in sweat and dirt, were unrecognizable in their original color.

"Ugh."

Thump, thump.

Yurii pounded his thighs.

His legs trembled like those of a newborn fawn. He needed to loosen them up a bit when he rested.

But after a few pats, his entire body ached, so he gave up.

He lay sprawled out, gazing at the sky, which was turning red.

The world spun around him.

"I... I'm going to die..."

Although he said that, Yurii knew he wasn't going to die.

If he were really going to die, he would have been dead before he even complained about the pain.

This was a realization he had come to through the many near-death experiences over the past three months.

How long had he been staring at the sky?

Sigh, sigh.

Yurii's breathing gradually became steady.

Right at that moment,

"Ah!"

Yurii shook his head and sat up.

His face was pale, as if he had just had a nightmare.

'I almost didn't complete today's quota.'

If he had fallen asleep, he would have woken up the next day. He wouldn't have completed today's training, and the old man would have noticed it like a ghost.

'That's when the hell begins.'

He had cursed the cart-pulling exercise as a way to build stamina, but when the real training started, Johann became a demon, treating him harshly.

He missed the days of pulling the cart.

Still, Yurii didn't complain.

He silently followed Johann's training schedule.

"Ugh."

Furrowing his brow, he tried to stand up but suddenly turned his head.

"What are you doing there?"

Yurii's sharp gaze landed on a spot where a tuft of hair was visible through the bushes.

He clicked his tongue in disappointment.

"Tsk. Hey, show some effort. Do you think you can hide like that?"

At his rebuke, the bushes rustled, and a large figure emerged.

"Hehe."

Seeing Mutsu scratching the back of his head awkwardly, Yurii's sigh deepened.

'Ah... I lost to such a guy.'

Every time he saw the boy, a sense of self-loathing washed over him.

What good was being big and strong?

What good was being a first-class martial artist if you acted like a 13-year-old who knew nothing about the world?

"Ah!"

Thud.

"..."

Seeing Mutsu trip over a vine and fall as he walked out of the bushes, Yurii corrected his thoughts.

'...This kid must be lying about his age. There's no way he could be this clueless!'

Thirteen years old, indeed.

He was big, but his actions were worse than a 10-year-old's.

"Ah..."

"Hey, if you fall, get up quickly. What are you doing?"

"Uh-huh."

"Clean yourself off!"

"Uh-huh."

"Ah, you're so frustrating!"

Although he sounded annoyed, Yurii couldn't push the boy away.

Despite his appearance, Mutsu was incredibly gentle. Moreover, after a few times of looking after him, Mutsu now called him 'brother' and followed him around, which Yurii found a bit endearing...

Huh!

Yurii was startled and shook off his thoughts.

'Am I going crazy from getting beaten by the old man... thinking this bear is cute?!'

There was nothing cute about him. He looked like a bandit.

Shaking his head quickly, Yurii sat next to Mutsu, who asked,

"Brother, are you hurt?"

"Hey, don't call me brother."

"Then what?"

"Call me 'sir.'"

"Why?"

"Just do it without asking questions!"

"Okay, sir."

"Good, that suits you."

Sighing slightly in relief, Yurii was looked at strangely by Mutsu.

He asked hesitantly,

"Yurii... sir..."

"Shh!"

"Ah, sir!"

"What?"

"Um... sir, why do you train?"

This was a question Mutsu had been pondering while observing Yurii over the past three months.

Over the past three months, Yurii had pushed his body to the limit, to the point where it seemed more like torture or self-harm than training.

However, Yurii himself seemed very calm about it.

Mutsu couldn't understand it at all.

On the other hand, Yurii also looked at Mutsu with a puzzled expression.

"What do you mean? Why do I train? I just do it."

"Isn't it hard?"

"No, it's not hard."

"Really?"

"No, it's not hard, but it feels like I'm dying."

"But why do you do it?"

"Why? I just do it, okay?"

"..."

Mutsu tilted his head, confused.

Yurii answered in a very calm voice, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"Because I have a goal."

"Goal?"

"Yes, I want to become strong. Stronger than anyone else, so I don't want to lose. That's why I train."

"..."

"To become strong, I train. Why do I need a reason? I just do it every day."

"Aren't you bored? Aren't you tired?"

"I am bored, but..."

Yurii's eyes regained their strength.

"I'm not tired."

This was a reminder to himself.

When he first started training,

He gritted