Morning came quietly at the Hoshiyama Hot Springs Resort.
Soft sunlight filtered through the bamboo curtains, painting warm stripes across the tatami floor. Birds sang somewhere in the forest beyond, distant and peaceful.
But inside the suite… tranquility didn't stand a chance.
"WAKE UP!"
Dean's voice hit Einar like a thunderbolt. The boy jolted upright, hair sticking out in five directions, blanket tangled around his legs.
"W–What time is it?!"
"Five."
"In the MORNING?!"
Dean crossed his arms, unimpressed. "The sun is awake, so you should be too."
"The sun is barely ALIVE!"
Dean ignored him and tossed a training outfit onto Einar's face.
"We start in ten minutes."
⸻
The Training Grounds — Behind the Resort
A private clearing stretched between the trees—a large circle of flattened earth bordered by bamboo fences and stone lanterns. The resort used it for martial arts retreats or advanced guests seeking discipline.
Perfect for torture, Einar thought grimly.
His ribs still ached. His back was sore. His face had the color of an overripe tomato. And his body felt like it had been rearranged by a truck.
Dean clapped his hands once.
"Warmup. Fifty laps around the clearing."
Einar blinked. "Five?"
"Fifty."
"That's child abuse—"
Dean cracked his knuckles.
"—which I will now do quietly and respectfully," Einar finished.
⸻
Lap 17
Einar's lungs burned. His legs screamed. Sweat poured down his forehead.
"Why… the hell… are we doing this… at five?!"
Dean walked casually beside him, sipping tea.
"Endurance. If you can't breathe, you can't fight."
"I CAN'T BREATHE NOW!"
"Good. You're learning."
"I hate you—"
"I hate you too. Keep running."
⸻
After the Laps
Einar collapsed on his hands and knees, gasping like a dying fish.
Dean squatted beside him. "Done already?"
Einar shot him a murderous glare.
"I'm… catching… my soul…"
"It can run without you. Get up."
Dean grabbed him by the collar and lifted him to his feet with one hand.
"Next," Dean said, stepping back, eyes sharp, "we work on your stance."
Einar straightened… and immediately slouched.
Dean slapped his back. "Straight."
"Ow—!"
"Feet."
Einar shuffled.
"Not like a duck."
"I'm trying!"
Dean adjusted his posture again and again, muttering curses every few seconds.
"You're built like your brothers but you move like a drunk flamingo."
"That's rude."
"That's accurate."
⸻
Sparring Session
Dean stepped into the ring of dirt, cracking his neck.
"Come at me."
Einar froze. "Right now? Like… right now right now?"
"Yes."
"I'm injured!"
"Good. The world won't wait for you to feel better."
Einar exhaled shakily, putting up his fists.
He took a step—
And Dean swept his legs out from under him.
Einar hit the ground face-first.
"GHHH—!"
Dean looked down at him. "Too slow."
"You didn't even let me start!"
"You started weak."
Einar pushed himself up, fire brewing in his eyes.
"Again."
Dean smiled faintly. "Good."
This time, Einar rushed forward, throwing a fast jab. Dean dodged with casual ease, tapping Einar's forehead with a finger.
"Too predictable."
Einar tried a kick.
Dean blocked it with one finger.
"Too light."
Einar feinted left then swung right—
Dean caught his wrist and flicked him backward like a leaf.
Einar tumbled, rolled, and coughed out dirt.
He pushed himself up again, panting hard, sweat dripping down his chin.
Dean's eyes softened imperceptibly.
Stubborn brat… good.
"Again," Einar said.
Over and over, he charged.
Over and over, Dean countered, blocked, redirected, and put him on the ground.
But Einar kept getting up.
Ten minutes.
Twenty.
Forty.
Until finally—
Dean stepped back.
Einar didn't fall this time.
He swayed, but stayed standing.
His fists trembled.
His breathing was ragged.
But his eyes—
His eyes burned bright.
Dean folded his arms.
"Enough sparring."
Einar's shoulders sagged. "Thank—wait, what's next?"
"Conditioning."
Einar's soul left his body.
⸻
Conditioning
Punching logs.
Kicking posts.
Core work.
Balance.
Dean made Einar hold a stance until his legs vibrated violently.
"Don't move."
"I'm gonna FALL—"
"You fall, you restart."
"I HATE THIS."
"I hate your whining. Stay still."
Einar's arms shook uncontrollably.
Dean walked circles around him like a tiger.
"You want Tournament 334? You want scouts to see you? This is the price."
Einar swallowed hard.
"I'll pay it."
Dean raised an eyebrow.
"Even if it hurts?"
"Especially if it hurts."
Dean looked at him for a long moment.
"…Good."
⸻
Evening — Hot Spring Recovery
Einar slid into the steaming water and nearly screamed.
"MY LEGS—MY EVERYTHING—WHY DOES EXISTENCE HURT—?!"
Dean sat calmly on the other end of the spring, eyes closed.
"Because you're weak."
"That's HARSH!"
"That's true."
Einar splashed water at him.
Dean didn't move.
"Do that again," Dean said quietly, "and you'll train at 3 AM tomorrow."
Einar froze mid-splash.
"…Sorry."
Steam drifted softly.
Crickets sang through the trees.
Einar finally relaxed, muscles melting into the water.
"Sensei…"
"Mm?"
"…Am I really getting stronger?"
Dean opened one eye.
"You lasted longer today than I expected."
He shut it again.
"You're getting there."
Einar's chest warmed.
A small smile slipped out.
"Thanks…"
Dean grunted. "Don't thank me yet. Tomorrow is worse."
Einar's smile died instantly.
"Wait—what do you mean worse—?"
"You'll see."
"No no NO, tell me—Sensei—SENSEI?!"
Dean pretended not to hear him.
And for the first time…
Einar didn't fear the next day.
He anticipated it.
Because this pain—
This suffering—
This effort—
It was the first step on the road to Tournament 334.
And he would climb it, no matter how much it burned.