Gai sucked in the cool night air, the chill biting at his lungs as he tried to steady his breath. The scent of damp earth and faint traces of smoke from the barracks' torches filled his nostrils, grounding him in the present. He flexed his fingers around the hilt of his father's gifted sword, its weight both familiar and alien in his grasp. The wrapped handle was worn smooth with age, and though it fit comfortably in his hand, the blade itself felt unwieldy. It was longer than the short sword he had been issued—

more substantial, too—with a single razor-sharp edge. A clumsy weapon for someone untrained, but he couldn't bring himself to leave it behind. Not after everything it represented.

He took a moment to glance down at the blade, its surface catching faint glimmers of moonlight as if mocking him. Gai's jaw tightened. He hadn't the slightest idea how to wield it properly, not yet anyway, but Oswald's lessons had planted a seed of confidence within him. He'd been training in secret for days now, sneaking out into the quiet hours when most of the other recruits had collapsed into their bunks, too weary from the day's drills to notice his absence. The solitude had become a comfort, though tonight it felt like every shadow held its breath, waiting for something to happen.

Gai's eyes darted toward the pools of golden light spilling from the torches outside the barracks. Figures moved through the flickering glow—some brisk and purposeful, clearly guards on patrol, while others lingered hesitantly at the edges, their movements betraying a cautious determination. Like him, they sought an advantage, however small. Every recruit knew that survival depended on being just a little sharper, a little faster than the next person. Gai's grip tightened on the sword. Anything to gain an edge.

Oswald's words from earlier that evening echoed in his mind: "One week. That's all you have before we begin military exercises with mock battles between units. You'll be tested in ways you can't anticipate." The veteran's voice had been calm but firm, carrying an undercurrent of urgency that had lodged itself deep in Gai's chest. One week wasn't enough time—not for him, not for someone who had to train more than others, to hope to offset his not yet known disadvantage.

A shiver ran down his spine—not entirely from the cold—as he scanned his surroundings again. The barracks loomed in shadow; their sturdy frames were barely visible against the darkened sky. Somewhere nearby, a faint rustling sound broke through the quiet. Gai froze, his heart hammering against his ribs as he strained to pinpoint its source.

"Hey, mate."

The voice came out of nowhere, low and casual but startling enough to make Gai nearly drop his sword. He spun around, feet slipping slightly on the damp grass, his eyes darting wildly across the gloom.

"Who's there?" His voice cracked slightly in his panic.

A chuckle rose from somewhere in the shadows—not cruel or mocking but amused in a way that only made Gai's unease deepen. "Settle down," the voice said again, this time with a hint of amusement laced through it. "I'm over here—just feel it."

Gai squinted into the darkness, his pulse still racing as he tried to focus on where the sound had come from. Slowly, a figure emerged from the void—a silhouette dressed entirely in mottled black clothing that seemed to absorb what little light there was. The person's face was obscured by some kind of cloth mask or hood; even their eyes seemed to vanish into shadow as if they were nothing more than a ghost.

"Who are you?" Gai demanded, though his voice lacked conviction.

The figure tilted their head slightly, as if considering how best to answer. "Aw," they drawled after a moment, their tone playful but tinged with something unreadable. "You don't remember me? We met on your first day."

Gai blinked at them, confusion wrinkling his brow as he searched his memory. Then it hit him—the figure from the rafters. The one who'd startled him when he first arrived at the dormitory.

"You're... you're that person who was sitting up in the roof, right?" His words came out haltingly as if saying them aloud might make the memory less strange.

"Yep," they replied simply, rocking back slightly on their heels before easing further into the shadows again. "That'd be me."

Gai stared at them for a moment longer before glancing down instinctively at the sword in his hand. He shifted awkwardly on his feet under their unseen gaze.

"Good to see no one's nicked that sword yet," the figure added casually.

"I... I look after it," Gai stammered defensively. "I hide it if I can't take it with me."

"Good stuff," they said with a nod of approval that somehow felt sincere despite their cryptic demeanour. "By the way—you're holding it wrong."

"What?" Gai blinked at them again, feeling caught off guard by both their sudden critique and their easy confidence.

"Use two hands," they instructed firmly but not unkindly. "You've got no control over it like that."

"It's not that big or heavy," Gai began to protest—but before he could finish, the figure was gone. Not a single sound betrayed their departure; it was as if they'd simply dissolved into the night itself.

Gai stood frozen for a long moment, staring into the empty space where they had been. His grip on the sword faltered slightly as unease prickled at his skin.

"Just who are you?" he muttered under his breath, though he knew there would be no answer.

The silence around him felt heavier now, pressing in like an unseen weight as he turned back toward the faint lights of the barracks. The chill night air seemed colder than before; even as he resumed practicing with awkward swings of his father's sword, he couldn't shake the feeling that those shadow-cloaked eyes were still watching him from somewhere unseen.