Chapter 23: The Silence After Thunder
The festival ended in a hush, not with fireworks or cheers, but with whispers and wary glances at the sky.
The people from the cities packed up in silence. The vibrant decorations, laughter, and games from just a day before now felt like a dream. Fathers buckled their children into the backseats of solar-powered cars. Mothers exchanged quiet, tense goodbyes. Nobody dared speak of the prophecy — not even a word.
By dawn, the dusty village roads were filled with the soft rumble of engines fading into the distance. The city folk were gone. But the fear they left behind… stayed.
Sujin Village had never felt so heavy.
It didn't take long for the changes to begin.
The very next morning, before the sun had fully risen, a group of village women gathered near the training grounds — an open field behind the old granary. Wooden training swords were pulled out from the dusty shed. Mats were unrolled. The air was still, but their eyes burned with purpose.
Ten-year-old Yue stood near the center of the field with her gang — Chinatsu, Hana, and Mimi — each of them holding a wooden stick. Not just for mischief anymore.
"Hold it up, like this!" shouted Yue's mother, Shan Yue, demonstrating a firm stance with her makeshift sword.
The village women formed a semi-circle as they began instructing the children. For the first time, Yue saw the serious side of many of the aunts who used to only gossip and laugh while cooking stew.
Now they were shouting commands, drilling stances, and correcting footwork.
"Back straight, Hana! You look like a lazy goose!"
"I—I'm trying!"
Yue grinned and nudged her friend with her elbow. "She's already sweating and we haven't even started sparring!"
"Oh shut up!" Hana hissed, but then laughed too.
Meanwhile, a different kind of scene was playing out on the other side of the village.
The boys — not used to the idea of physical training — were gathered at the river path. Their fathers and uncles stood by awkwardly, encouraging them as best they could.
"Just… just run around the rice field once. Start with that," one man said.
Several of the boys blinked in confusion.
"Eh? Just… run?"
"Yes. Run! If your wife needs help in a crisis, you don't want to be a noodle-legged flower, do you?"
Some of the boys groaned. "But it's so far!"
Still, they started jogging — flailing limbs, loose sandals, and all.
One boy tripped on a rock and face-planted into a bush.
"Ughhh!"
The men all winced in unison. "He'll learn," one muttered.
Even some of the adult men — many of whom had soft bellies from years of home cooking and gentle housework — began attempting morning walks. One particularly enthusiastic dad tried to do a pushup, only to collapse with a yelp and a dramatic "My back!"
Yue watched all this from afar while balancing on one foot with her wooden sword raised above her head.
"...They're really trying," she murmured.
Mimi nodded. "Yeah. My papa got up at 5 a.m. today to do ten sit-ups."
"And he only cried twice," Chinatsu added proudly.
They all giggled.
Despite the worry that hung in the air like leftover smoke from the bonfire, something had awakened in the village.
Every morning, training became a routine.
Girls practiced with focus and fire — sword forms, sparring drills, even endurance races across the forest edge. They built strength not just in their arms but in their minds. They were warriors in training, in spirit if not yet in body.
Meanwhile, the boys were finally getting a taste of sweat and grass stains.
At first, they stumbled through every exercise. Some even tried hiding behind trees or faking stomach aches.
But then something changed.
A few days into training, Yue's father — belly now clearly rounded in the soft glow of pregnancy — stood in front of the younger boys.
"If I can carry a baby and do stretches," he said, touching his toes carefully, "then you can run two laps around the pond."
The boys blinked.
And then... they nodded.
They ran.
Slowly. But they ran.
Back at home, Yue noticed more changes.
Her mother began preparing meals filled with protein and vitamins.
"No more sweets before breakfast," Shan Yue announced, swatting Yue's hand away from the honey jar. "You're going to be strong. This whole family will be."
Yue pouted but obeyed.
Her gang helped too — carrying water, cleaning up training grounds, and even making wooden dolls that resembled swords for the younger kids.
The Sujin villagers — known once for their carefree nature and mischievous days — were transforming.
Not out of fear.
But out of a shared determination.
One evening, after a long day of sword drills and prank planning (because they were still kids, after all), Yue stood under the same starry sky that had darkened during Grandma Kiku's prophecy.
She glanced upward, her sky-blue hair tied in a high messy ponytail, the wind tugging at loose strands.
"Hey," she whispered to the stars. "Whatever's coming… I'll be ready."
And from the shadows behind her, her mother watched with pride.