James glanced at the cooking area as Aria began preparing the evening meal. He stretched his arms, rolling his shoulders before stepping closer.
"Need a hand?" he offered, his voice casual but sincere.
Aria raised an eyebrow, studying him for a moment. "You sure you're up for it?" she asked, a teasing edge in her tone. "You just got back on your feet."
James smirked. "I've spent weeks reading about herbs and food. Might as well see if any of it stuck."
Aria huffed but handed him a small knife and a handful of vegetables. "Alright, then. Don't mess it up."
James chuckled, settling in beside her. As they worked, slicing and preparing ingredients, the simple act of cooking together felt oddly familiar—like another step in his recovery, another thread weaving into the life he had found here.
As James sliced the vegetables, he reached for another piece just as Aria did—and their fingers brushed. The touch was fleeting, barely a second, but it was enough for James to freeze slightly, his grip tightening around the knife.
Aria pulled her hand back quickly, eyes flickering downward as a faint flush colored her cheeks.
James cleared his throat, focusing a little too intently on the task at hand. "Uh—sorry," he muttered, unsure why something so simple had caught him off guard.
Aria huffed softly, but didn't meet his gaze. "It's fine," she said, though the slight tension in her posture betrayed her own awareness of the moment.
They worked in silence for a few beats, the air subtly charged with something unspoken.
The moment stretched between them, quiet but noticeable. James kept his focus on the vegetables, though his mind lingered on the unexpected brush of their hands. Aria, on the other hand, seemed just as intent on keeping her attention elsewhere, the faint color on her cheeks still present.
Neither spoke right away, as if acknowledging it outright would only make it more awkward. The soft flicker of the candlelight played against the wooden walls, the rhythmic sound of chopping filling the space.
Eventually, Aria cleared her throat and shifted slightly. "You're slicing those unevenly," she muttered, not looking up.
James exhaled a quiet chuckle, grateful for the excuse to break the tension. "You're judging my knife skills now?"
She smirked, finally glancing his way. "If you want dinner to be decent, then yes."
James shook his head but adjusted his grip, letting the moment slip back into the comfort of their usual rhythm.
James and Aria finished cooking, the familiar warmth of the meal filling the hut. Their conversation had eased back into light remarks, teasing exchanges, and shared glances that felt more natural now, the earlier awkwardness fading into something comfortable.
Once the dishes were ready, James picked up the tray while Aria grabbed the bowls, and together, they stepped inside. The old man was already seated at the table, arms crossed, waiting with the patience of someone who had done this routine many times before.
He eyed them both as they set the food down, his sharp gaze flicking between James and Aria before letting out a slow sigh.
"Took you long enough," he muttered, though there was no real bite to his words.
Aria huffed, placing a bowl in front of him. "We _could_ have just let you cook."
The old man smirked. "And you'd have been eating bland porridge."
James chuckled, taking his own seat as the warmth of the meal settled into the quiet evening.
James hesitated for a brief moment, feeling the weight of his decision settle in his chest. Then, steadying himself, he bowed deeply before the old man, his voice firm but respectful.
"Senior," he said, keeping his gaze lowered, "please accept me as your disciple."
The room fell into silence, the crackling of the fire the only sound between them.
Aria stiffened slightly, glancing between James and her grandfather, her expression unreadable.
The old man studied James with quiet intensity, his sharp eyes searching, measuring.
"You've recovered well," he finally said, voice calm yet unreadable. "But that does not mean you are ready."
James clenched his fists, forcing himself to hold his ground. "I want to learn. Not just the knowledge in the books—but the skills, the discipline, the understanding that comes with them."
The old man exhaled slowly, leaning back in his chair.
"Why?" he asked simply.
James straightened slightly, meeting the old man's gaze with quiet determination.
"I've spent my life searching," he began, his voice steady but carrying an edge of something deeper—something that had been pushing him forward long before he arrived here. "Searching for purpose. For understanding. For something more than just surviving."
He hesitated for a moment, choosing his words carefully. "I've seen strength. I've seen wisdom. But never together—not in a way that builds, protects, and preserves." He exhaled, fingers curling slightly against the table. "You have that. You understand things most people overlook. I don't want to _just_ know how to fight or how to heal—I want to know what makes the difference between a man who merely exists and a man who _endures_."
The old man remained silent, watching him with unreadable eyes.
James clenched his jaw. "I'm asking not out of desperation, or arrogance, or impatience. I'm asking because I know I _need_ this knowledge. Not just for myself, but for whatever comes next."
Aria, having remained quiet, finally shifted beside him.
"Grandfather," she murmured, her voice carrying the weight of quiet support, "you know he's serious."
The old man exhaled slowly, considering James for another long moment. Then, he leaned back, folding his arms.
"Training here is not just a matter of learning techniques," he said at last. "It requires discipline. Sacrifice. An understanding of life beyond what books can offer."
James nodded. "I'm ready."
The old man studied him for another moment, then gave a slow nod.
"Then we begin at dawn."
James exhaled, feeling the weight of the moment settle deep within him.
James nodded, his grip tightening slightly as the weight of the old man's words settled in. "We begin at dawn." The phrase echoed in his mind as he leaned back in his chair, his thoughts already racing ahead to what was coming.
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