Laverna's third week of training was unlike anything she had endured before. If the previous weeks had been about breaking her body and forcing her into unfamiliar territory, this week was about sharpening her instincts, refining her abilities, and testing the limits of her endurance in ways she hadn't imagined.
Shin no longer held back. By now, Laverna could move silently, dodge instinctively, and attack with precision.
But it wasn't enough. A true kunoichi didn't just react, she predicted, adapted, and controlled the battlefield. She had to be more than fast, she had to be invisible, unreadable, lethal in a way that transcended physical skill.
This was no longer just about survival. This was about becoming something more.
Laverna was forced to infiltrate marked locations within the training grounds without being detected. Shin used all his senses against her, tracking her by sound, scent, and presence.
She had to use everything she had learned, breathing techniques to mask her presence, movement so light that even the leaves beneath her feet remained undisturbed. But even that wasn't enough. Shin would shift the environment, forcing her to adapt mid-mission.
One night, he coated certain paths in fine dust, making her footprints painfully obvious. Another time, he scattered bells across the ground, each step threatening to give her away.
If she failed, she started over. Again and again, until she could bypass every obstacle without detection.
"You're still too rigid," Shin whispered one night as he caught her by the wrist just before she reached her target. His breath was warm against her skin, sending a sudden jolt through her body, a heat that coiled low in her stomach, unfamiliar and unwelcome.
Her fingers twitched, her body urging her forward before she forced herself to stop, swallowing hard. She clenched her jaw, willing the sensation away, burying it beneath the exhaustion of training. "You need to flow, not move. Like a shadow, not a person."
Laverna swallowed hard, shaking off the strange sensation creeping over her. "I'm trying."
"Trying isn't enough," he murmured, releasing her. "Again."
Over and over, she repeated the exercises, forcing herself to move without thought. Each failure was met with correction, each mistake followed by another attempt.
Her body ached from the repetition, her mind burned with frustration, and yet... the pain of her failures drove her forward.
It was sharp, relentless, and oddly grounding. There was something in the way Shin's voice hardened when she failed, in the way he demanded more of her, that made her push harder, almost as if she needed to feel it, to prove something to herself.
Each correction sent a thrill through her, the sting of discipline blending with the satisfaction of knowing she was improving, of knowing she had survived another lesson. And yet, buried beneath her exhaustion, something within her longed for the moment he would push her again.
Each time he caught her, her pulse quickened, not just from exertion, but from something deeper. His hands were firm, unforgiving, and when he let go, she almost hated it.
When she finally began slipping past him, unnoticed in the darkness, there was a strange satisfaction that curled in her stomach, a thrill that came from knowing he was watching her, testing her, challenging her to be better.
By the third night, she could slip past Shin without his immediate notice, and the thrill of success sent a surge of pride through her. As she came to a stop, catching her breath, she turned to meet his gaze.
For once, he didn't look unimpressed. Instead, he gave her a slow nod.
"You did well," he said, his voice low, firm.
The words sent a jolt through her, sharp and unexpected. Her chest swelled, her ears twitched, and before she could stop it, her tail gave an instinctive flick behind her, swishing like an excited pup being given its first treat. The realization made her stiffen, heat rushing to her face as she forced herself to stillness.
She shouldn't love this. She shouldn't love the way his voice sounded when he praised her, the way her entire body responded as if seeking more. She clenched her fists, swallowing down the instinct that clawed at her.
And yet, in the quiet of her mind, she almost missed the chase.
The spars were no longer predictable exchanges of strikes. Shin forced her into scenarios where she had to fight against multiple opponents, using terrain, weapons, and her environment to survive.
If she hesitated, she lost. If she relied too much on strength, he overpowered her. She had to be clever, deceptive, and ruthless. The sparring sessions grew longer, more punishing, each one pushing her beyond what she had thought was possible.
Shin wasn't gentle. His strikes came hard and fast, testing her limits, knocking her breathless when she faltered. Every failure was met with another fall, another sharp lesson that left her skin bruised, her muscles burning.
But she endured. No, she more than endured, she absorbed it, pushing herself harder, as if each painful correction fed something deep within her, something she didn't want to acknowledge.
One evening, Shin launched an unexpected attack, sweeping her legs out from beneath her.
Before she could hit the ground, she twisted midair, landing on her hands and flipping back onto her feet. Her breath was ragged, her pulse hammering in her ears, but she remained standing. And for some reason, that thrilled her.
"Good," Shin finally said, a glimmer of approval in his eyes. "You're starting to think like a predator, not prey."
His praise sent a heat through her that had nothing to do with exertion. It curled inside her, warm and unbidden, settling low in her stomach.
The ache in her limbs, the sharp stings of each lesson, the way he watched her with that unreadable expression, it was all sinking into her in ways she refused to name. She ignored it, burying the feeling deep as she steadied her breath.
While Shin honed her body, Yuri sharpened her mind. If a kunoichi fought in the shadows, a noble fought with words, glances, and carefully controlled emotions.
Laverna had to master both. It was another form of battle, one just as dangerous as the one she fought with her blades.
Exhaustion clung to her bones, but something within her had changed. She wasn't just learning, she was evolving.