Chapter 11 : Hearts that waited

The sun had climbed high into the sky, casting thick golden beams through the tall, arched windows of the training hall. The light poured in like liquid fire, illuminating every speck of dust drifting lazily in the still air. The space was silent except for the sharp thud of feet on wood, the hiss of breath, and the occasional clash of contact—bodies in motion, minds focused, every movement a dance between discipline and instinct.

Sakura moved in perfect rhythm with Shin, their motions fluid, precise—like twin flames sparring in an elegant blaze. Their training had stretched on for hours, pushing Sakura to her edge and then past it. Her body ached, her limbs trembled slightly with the strain, but her spirit burned brighter than ever.

With a final sharp block, Shin took a step back and lowered his stance. His chest rose and fell with slow, deliberate breaths. Sweat clung to his brow, glistening in the sunlight. He wiped it away with the back of his hand, his composure only slightly cracked by fatigue.

“That’s enough for now,” he said, his voice even but clearly tired. “You’ve done well.”

Sakura staggered back half a step, panting, but a grin spread across her flushed face. “Yeah… that was amazing.” She tossed her hair back, skin gleaming with effort, heart pounding in her chest with both exhaustion and pride.

They walked over to the edge of the room, each grabbing a towel from the bench. The moment their bodies relaxed, the soreness hit—like a wave of fire through tired muscles. Shin rolled his shoulders with a low grunt, and as he did, Sakura turned slightly to glance out the window.

And then—her heart skipped.

The sun… it’s already that high?!

A jolt of panic ran through her veins like lightning.

Emi. I told her I’d be back before noon!

Her gaze darted to Shin, who had just sat down to stretch his legs, looking calm and oblivious.

“You should take a break,” Sakura said quickly, trying to keep her tone light. “We’ve been at it for hours.”

Shin glanced at her, his eyes still sharp despite his exhaustion. “I’m fine,” he said. “A few more drills and we—”

“Nope.” She cut him off with a sudden groan and stepped behind him, planting her hands firmly on his shoulders. “That’s enough for today, Captain. I’m the boss now. Go rest or I’ll drag you there myself.”

He blinked, clearly caught off guard by the sudden shift in her tone. “You’re… acting weird.”

Sakura laughed, high-pitched and nervous. “Me? Never! I’m just… being responsible.”

Shin gave her a long, unreadable look. “Strange way of showing it,” he muttered, but relented. “Fine. Just don’t overdo it while I’m gone.”

“I promise,” she said with a cheerful salute, already backing away.

As soon as he turned the corner and disappeared down the hall, Sakura sprinted in the opposite direction—her towel flying off as she dashed toward her room. She flung open the door, dove inside, and yanked open a hidden compartment under her bed.

Out came her old dark disguise—a hooded cloak, slightly worn at the edges, but still perfectly serviceable. She wrapped it tightly around herself, tugged the hood low over her eyes, and slipped out through the servant corridor without another sound.

Through the city’s alleys and rooftops, she moved like a shadow. Every step was carefully placed, every corner taken with swift precision. She knew the blind spots in the city’s patrols by heart now. In less than fifteen minutes, she had vanished through a gap in the outer wall—just like she had before.

The countryside welcomed her with open arms: quiet, green, and alive with the chirping of cicadas and rustle of trees. Her pace didn’t slow as she ran along the winding path, heart hammering—not with fear, but with anticipation.

She was almost there.

The village loomed ahead, a faded memory made real once more. As she reached the broken gate of the old house, her feet slowed, the world seeming to hold its breath.

She stepped through gently, the floorboards creaking faintly beneath her.

“Emi?” she whispered into the dim air. “Haru? Kai?”

Silence.

Then—thud! thud!—small footsteps, fast and eager.

Haru burst into the room like a rocket, his wide eyes shining with recognition and joy. “Sakuraaa!!” he shouted, his tiny frame crashing into her legs as he wrapped his arms around her.

Sakura dropped to her knees, hugging him close, breath catching in her throat. “Told you I’d come,” she murmured, a warmth blooming in her chest.

Moments later, Emi appeared in the hallway, frozen in place with disbelief. Then her face lit up like a lantern, and she ran to Sakura, pulling her into a firm, heartfelt embrace.

“You made it,” she whispered. “You really came back.”

Behind her, more footsteps.

Ren stepped in, composed as always. His expression didn’t shift much, but there was something softer in his gaze. “It’s good you came back,” he said. “We started to wonder if… you were gone for good.”

“I wouldn’t leave without a word,” Sakura replied softly.

“Phew!” came a loud, cheerful voice. Hana practically bounced into the room, her grin contagious. “You actually snuck out again? That’s so awesome!”

Sakura laughed. “Keep it a secret, okay?”

“Obviously,” Hana said with a playful wink.

“WHOA!!” Ryo came skidding in from behind a crumbling pillar. “You’re like a real ninja!”

Sakura leaned in and whispered, “Let’s keep that between us, ninja buddy,” making him nod furiously, eyes sparkling.

Then she felt a tug on her robe. Haru had crept back beside her, clutching her tightly, his small smile unchanging. She rested her hand on his head, a quiet promise in the gesture.

And then… Kai stepped out from the shadows.

Arms crossed, eyes narrowed, expression unreadable. His voice, when it came, was clipped and cold.

“You came again,” he said flatly. “Still not sure what you’re after.”

“Kai…” Emi warned, glaring.

“She’s here because she cares.”

Kai looked away with a soft tch, refusing to argue but clearly not convinced.

Sakura reached up and pulled back her hood just enough to show her face—tired but determined. “I said I’d return,” she said gently. “And I meant it.”

Kai stared at her for a moment. Then, without a word, he walked to the far wall and leaned against it, arms still crossed—but he didn’t leave.

The tension melted like ice in the sun.

And just like that, they were whole again.

Laughter returned to the room, voices overlapping as stories were told, jokes shared, moments passed.

Outside, the world kept turning.

But inside that old, crumbling house, a family was reunited.

And for the first time in a long time, it felt like everything was right.

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