A Good Day

A few months passed after Shane left for Hilbert, and contrary to the deeply unpleasant feeling I'd gotten after overhearing that suspicious conversation...

Absolutely nothing happened.

No mysterious cloaked strangers appeared in the middle of the night, Zaw wasn't suddenly attacked, the village didn't explode, and no ancient evil awakened beneath my bedroom.

Nothing.

Life just continued normally.

Honestly, I was starting to think I'd gotten worked up over nothing.

(You spent three weeks checking behind you every time you heard a bird.)

It had a raven on its cloak! My paranoia was completely justified.

(You threw a rock at an actual raven.)

That one looked suspicious.

Anyway, life kept moving.

Well...

Mostly uneventful months.

Zaw eventually discovered how much fruit had gone missing from his secret stash, and apparently I needed it to make a friend wasn't considered a valid legal defense.

He was not happy.

I spent the next several days helping with his paperwork as punishment, trapped inside his office long enough to seriously wonder whether the missing fruit or his body odor would kill me first.

After that, he started checking his stash every time I walked into the room, while I continued checking whether he'd discovered soap.

Neither of us had much luck.

But aside from that?

Nothing.

Eventually, Shane's suspicious little meeting became something I only occasionally thought about.

Right now, I had a much more dangerous problem.

"Again," Amachi said.

"No."

He frowned. "Again."

"I said no."

"Why?"

I slowly raised both arms.

Bruises.

Scrapes.

More bruises.

My right shoulder felt like someone had spent the afternoon tenderizing it with a hammer, while a purple mark spreading across my ribs looked increasingly concerned about its future.

"Take a wild guess."

Amachi looked me up and down.

"...Tired?"

"INJURED."

"Oh."

He gave me an awkward little smile.

At least these days, he actually had expressions.

When we'd first started talking, getting any emotion out of Amachi had been like trying to negotiate with a brick wall, but now he'd smile when something amused him, frown when he was annoyed, and occasionally laugh whenever I made a complete idiot of myself.

He was still dense.

Just...

Slightly more human about it.

After the whole fruit-cake incident, we'd started spending more time together—eating lunch, wandering around the village, occasionally wasting entire afternoons doing absolutely nothing...

And unfortunately—

Training.

At first, I'd only watched him, but then one day I'd made the catastrophic mistake of saying:

"That doesn't look too difficult."

I had regretted those words ever since.

Amachi's idea of training was completely deranged, involving running until your legs stopped cooperating, punching trees, punching rocks, lifting rocks, and throwing rocks.

There was a disturbing amount of rock-based violence involved.

I trained with him now, but there was one extremely important difference between us.

I knew when to stop.

Amachi apparently considered stopping a personal insult.

"Another thirty minutes," he said.

"No."

"Fifteen?"

"No."

"Ten?"

"Amachi."

"Five?"

I stared at him. "If I continue for another five minutes, I think my ribs are going to migrate."

"They can't do that."

"THANK YOU, DOCTOR."

A small grin appeared on his face.

Oh, so now he was enjoying himself.

"Fine," he said. "I'll keep going."

He turned toward the large boulder we'd been training with, and that was when I noticed the slight stiffness in his step.

"Hold it."

Amachi stopped and looked back. "What?"

"You're injured too."

"No, I'm not."

"You literally just limped."

"I didn't."

"You did."

"No."

"You absolutely did."

Amachi frowned, clearly offended by this accusation against his flawless physical condition.

"I'm fine."

"Walk normally."

He stared at me. "...Why?"

"Just do it."

Amachi took two steps.

On the third—

His face twitched.

Barely.

But I saw it.

"HA!"

He immediately straightened. "What?"

"You winced!"

"No, I didn't."

"You totally did!"

"No."

"You made the face!"

"What face?"

I pointed at him and recreated it as dramatically as possible.

"That face!"

"I don't look like that."

"You looked exactly like that."

"I didn't."

"Your leg hurts."

"No."

"Then kick something."

Amachi's eyes immediately moved toward the boulder, and his entire expression changed.

"Not the boulder!"

He looked disappointed.

Good.

At least his face could communicate his suicidal intentions now.

I walked over and poked his leg.

His entire body jerked.

"Ow!"

Silence.

I slowly looked up at him.

He stared back at me.

...

"Interesting."

"That didn't hurt."

"You literally said ow."

"No, I didn't."

"AMACHI."

He looked away.

"...A little."

There it was.

Progress.

Apparently, several months of friendship had finally taught him the revolutionary skill of admitting that pain existed.

Sort of.

"Sit down."

"I'm fine."

"You just admitted it hurts!"

"A little."

"Sit."

"I can keep training."

"Sit."

He crossed his arms and frowned. "No."

I stared at him.

He stared back.

Neither of us moved.

...

"Amachi."

"Fourth."

"Sit down."

"No."

"Do it."

"No."

"You're acting like a child."

"So are you."

"I'm trying to stop you from breaking your leg!"

"It's not broken."

"YET!"

His mouth twitched before he quickly turned his face away.

...

Was he trying not to laugh?

"Don't laugh!"

"I'm not."

"You are!"

"No."

A quiet snort escaped him.

"Traitor."

Amachi finally gave up and sat beneath a nearby tree, still grinning.

Victory.

It had taken several months, but I'd finally discovered my true purpose in this friendship.

I wasn't Amachi's rival, I wasn't his mentor, and I wasn't even really his training partner.

I was his leash.

Without me around, this lunatic would probably keep training until every bone in his body simultaneously resigned.

I sat beside him and started wrapping cloth around my elbow.

Amachi watched me. "You stop too early."

"I stop before I require professional medical attention."

"Same thing."

"No," I said, tightening the cloth. "Those are very different things."

He leaned back against the tree, but for a moment his face tightened and his hand drifted toward his injured leg.

I noticed.

He noticed me noticing.

His hand immediately moved away.

"...Still hurts?"

"No."

"You're terrible at this."

"At what?"

"Pretending."

He frowned. "I'm good at pretending."

"You said ow."

"That was earlier."

"Your injury didn't magically disappear five minutes later."

Amachi looked down at his leg, then back at me.

"It could."

"It could not."

He sighed dramatically.

These days, he did that too.

Honestly, I'd created a monster.

"Fine," he muttered. "It hurts."

I placed a hand against my chest.

"My god."

"What?"

"Growth."

"Shut up."

I laughed, and Amachi looked irritated for approximately two seconds before smiling too.

Still...

He wasn't wrong about one thing.

I had gotten stronger.

Not ridiculously stronger, and I definitely wasn't shattering boulders or developing an eight-pack overnight, but my stamina had improved, my Orka control was smoother, my Barrier could take more punishment, and I'd gotten much better at recognizing exactly how far I could push my body.

Mostly because Amachi constantly demonstrated what happened when you ignored that limit.

Sometimes I'd feel myself wanting to continue for one more round, one more exercise, or one more attempt, but then my shoulder would scream at me.

Or my ribs.

Or my legs.

And I'd force myself to stop.

Amachi didn't have that switch.

Pain showed on his face now, and I'd seen him grit his teeth, wince, or suck in a breath whenever an injury flared up, which meant he definitely felt it.

Probably just as much as anyone else.

He was simply unbelievably good at staring pain directly in the face and saying—

Eh. Five more minutes.

Which was why I had to keep stopping him.

"Tomorrow?" Amachi asked.

"Training?"

"Yeah."

I looked at his injured leg, then at my own battered arms.

"Rest day."

His smile immediately disappeared.

"No."

"Rest day."

"I'll be fine tomorrow."

"You can't even walk properly today."

"I'll heal."

"Rest."

"Half day?"

"No."

Amachi frowned. "Half rest day."

"That's not a thing."

"It is now."

"Full rest day."

"Three-quarter."

I stared at him.

He stared back.

"You're negotiating with me?"

"Yeah."

"...Fine. Three-quarter rest day."

Amachi smiled triumphantly.

Wait.

How the hell did I lose that negotiation?

(He's learning.)

That's terrifying.

The two of us sat beneath the tree as the afternoon slowly passed, with a light breeze moving through the leaves overhead while somewhere farther into the village I could hear people talking, children running around, and Zaw yelling about something that probably wasn't important.

Amachi leaned against the trunk beside me, finally giving his injured leg a chance to rest, and for once, neither of us needed to say anything.

A few months ago, I'd been worrying about suspicious cloaked strangers, mysterious objects, and whatever Shane had gotten himself involved with, but now my biggest concern was convincing my idiot friend that limping meant he should probably stop exercising.

I looked toward the village.

Everything was peaceful.

Normal.

Amachi was beside me, Zaw was probably somewhere ruining someone's afternoon with his wonderful aroma, and nobody was in danger.

Nothing strange was happening.

I smiled.

I hope every day can be good like this.

...

I froze.

(...)

My other self went silent too.

A cold realization slowly crawled up my spine.

"...Did I just dig my own grave?"