(Note: entries beginning with a date are from Fenghua's perspective.)
September 2.
I met a man whose whole body radiated lightning.
He killed Gojo Arashi, then overwhelmed Yingliang and me with physical combat alone. Yingliang died. I didn't cry. I begged him to take me in. He didn't answer, just turned and left. I thought there was no hope, but in the end, he opened the door.
September 3.
He agreed to take me as his apprentice. I was so happy.
Training was brutal. The Soul-Devouring Blade was much heavier than my Zhanmadao. After swinging it all day, my arms shook so badly I couldn't hold my chopsticks. But I really was getting stronger. I could feel it.
We met a man with stitches across his forehead. We'd barely exchanged a few words before we were dragged into a terrifying place. There was blood and monsters everywhere. I thought I would die, but he kept me safe.
He killed that Demon King. I helped, too. I cut off its head.
October 2.
He taught me fine control of cursed energy. His hands held my wrists, adjusting the angle at which I applied force. Those hands were so warm.
He was so strong. I wanted to learn more.
October 19.
We were traveling at night, and I mentioned feeling a little cold. He said nothing.
The next morning, he came back carrying a dead tiger. He skinned it and dried the hide. Three days later, he made it into a blanket and tossed it to me.
It was so warm.
October 27.
He taught me how to use Reverse Cursed Technique to maintain my body temperature. That way, I wouldn't get cold even in winter.
I made the tiger-hide blanket into a shawl and draped it over him. He froze for a moment and said nothing, but he kept it with him after that.
November 6.
He started talking less.
Before, when I asked questions, he would at least answer with a few words. Now, for every ten questions, I might get one "mm." Was I asking too many questions? Was I bothering him?
November 11.
Neither of us talked anymore.
We didn't talk while walking or eating. Even our eyes met less often. It was so quiet. It hurt so much.
It shouldn't have been like this.
November 20.
He kept leaving me alone, then going off to kill sorcerers by himself.
I knew those opponents were strong, and taking me along would only burden him. But don't leave me behind... I could learn. I could become more useful.
December 2.
We went to see that man with stitches across his forehead again. He had changed bodies, but the line across his forehead was still there.
It didn't matter. I didn't care about that.
They said they would go kill Ten Shadows on December 22. Master's expression looked wrong. Were there times when even he wasn't confident?
Today, December 6.
Sixteen days left.
Kashimo sat leaning against a tree.
Rough bark pressed against his back, sparse branches spread overhead, and dusk filtered through the gaps, scattering mottled shadows across his face. One leg was bent, the other stretched out, his posture so casual he might have been waiting for someone to meet him.
A corpse lay a few steps in front of him.
The sorcerer's head had been smashed apart, a mangled mass of flesh and blood that no longer resembled a face. Kashimo's gaze rested on the corpse, or perhaps passed through it to somewhere farther away. There was no telling what he was thinking.
Fenghua stood to one side.
Neither close nor far, just near enough to see every subtle change in his expression, yet just beyond reach.
She watched his expressionless face, watched the dusk drift across his features, watched him occasionally turn the Thunder Ring on his right index finger with a faint click.
There was little conversation.
Little eye contact, either.
She parted her lips.
She wanted to say something, to ask whether he was hungry, where they were going next, whether he remembered what day tomorrow was. The words reached her lips, then she swallowed them back.
His expression told her he didn't want to talk.
It was always like this.
She wanted to speak, then swallowed the words. Wanted to speak again, swallowed them again.
Dusk deepened. Wind slipped through the woods, stirring a few withered yellow leaves. One landed on her shoulder. She didn't move, just stood there, watching the man leaning against the tree.
He didn't look at her.
Kashimo shook his head, as though trying to shake the lethargy out of his body. He braced himself against the trunk and rose slowly, his bones cracking twice.
"Let's go."
He walked past Fenghua without looking back. The tiger-hide shawl swayed gently with his steps, its brown muted in the dusk.
After a few steps, he suddenly spoke again.
"You should go to bed early."
He paused.
"Then you'll have the energy to keep training tomorrow."
Fenghua stood where she was, stunned for a moment.
It was the most he had said to her at once in nearly a month.
Her gaze settled on his back, on his long, pale blue-green hair, on the shawl she had made with her own hands. Her lips moved, and a single word slipped from her throat.
"Why?"
Her voice was soft, with a tremor even she hadn't noticed.
Kashimo stopped.
He turned his head, his gaze falling on the red-robed figure with her head bowed. Dusk had grown thick, blurring her outline until all he could make out were the strands of hair hanging down and her faintly trembling shoulders.
"Why did you suddenly become so distant?"
"Why did you suddenly get sick of me?"
"Why do you go looking for sorcerers alone and leave me behind?"
"Why are you going to kill Ten Shadows alone, without including me?"
Each question seemed forced through clenched teeth. Her voice shook harder and harder, until it almost broke.
"Why?!"
Fenghua's head was bowed so low that Kashimo couldn't see her expression. He could only see her clenched hands, her knuckles white, her robe wrinkling in her grip.
"Whenever you leave, I panic..."
Her voice was muffled, as though dragged up from deep inside her chest.
"I'm afraid you'll just leave me, like you did that girl."
She paused.
"I can't catch up to you..."
Another pause.
"I can't find you, either..."
Then came a faint sound of sobbing.
Broken, quiet sobs, as though she was desperately trying to hold them back and couldn't. The sound drifted through the darkening woods and reached Kashimo's ears, weighing heavier than any of her accusations.
"I've been wondering, too-"
Her voice faltered, as though it took every bit of her strength to drag those words from her throat.
"Why do I... why do I feel so anxious and upset just because you're gone for a little while?"
"Why does every little thing you do affect how I feel?"
Tears streamed down her cheeks, glimmering faintly in the dusk. Her head was bowed, and the tears fell onto the dead leaves at her feet, spreading into a small dark patch.
Kashimo kept watching her with his head turned.
He didn't move.
Fenghua raised a hand and fiercely wiped away her tears. She used a little too much force, rubbing her face red. She took a deep breath, lifted her head, and turned around.
She smiled, as though she had come to terms with it.
The smile on her tear-streaked face was a little bedraggled, a little forced, but her red eyes looked straight at him, startlingly bright.
"I want you to stay by my side."
Her voice was a little steadier as she spoke.
"Like before. Teaching me, reminding me, caring about me."
She paused.
"These feelings-"
She looked at him, her lips moving softly.
"Can they be called... love?"
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