The third day dawned early for Anchhi. She woke with a start, momentarily disoriented, before remembering where she was. And she noticed the attire laid out for her—a simple yet elegant training outfit. It was practical, designed for movement, but still, she felt out of place in it. Anchhi was no warrior. The thought of sword fighting felt almost laughable. Yet, she steeled herself. Today, she would be learning swordsmanship under Shuo Jin's guidance.
The anticipation bubbled within her when she stepped out to the training grounds, greeted by the cold mountain air. Shuo Jin was already there, standing tall with a sword in hand. His expression was stoic, serious in a way that was different from the man she had come to know over the past few days.
"Ready?" he asked, his voice calm but commanding.
Anchhi nodded, though the truth was, she wasn't sure if she was ready for this. The sword he handed her felt impossibly heavy in her hands, its weight grounding her in reality. She struggled to even lift it properly, and when she attempted to swing it in the air, the result was almost laughable. She fumbled, her movements awkward and graceless.
She winced internally, waiting for the inevitable jab or mocking remark from Shuo Jin. But instead, his response surprised her.
"You're learning," he said, his tone firm but not unkind. "Keep pushing yourself."
Anchhi blinked, taken aback. She hadn't expected encouragement, especially from him. Shuo Jin was always the one to get under her skin, poking fun at her weaknesses, challenging her. But here, in the cold light of the training grounds, he was different—focused, intense, almost... patient.
"Hold it like this," he instructed, moving closer. His large hands covered hers as he adjusted her grip on the sword. His touch was firm, guiding her with precision.
Anchhi could feel the heat of his body as he positioned himself behind her. His chest brushing lightly against her back. Her breath hitched, caught off guard by the sudden closeness. The cold mountain air did little to cool the warmth that spread through her body from where their skin almost touched.
"Relax your arms," His voice was a low rumble in her ear, his breath warm against her neck. "You need control, not brute strength. Focus on the movement, not the weight."
Anchhi nodded, but her heart raced. How could she focus on anything with him standing so close? The scent of him—something clean, almost earthy—invaded her senses, making it nearly impossible to think. She felt the power in his movements, the way he effortlessly controlled the sword as though it were an extension of his body. And all she could think about was the heat of his presence against her back, the sound of his voice that sent an uninvited thrill down her spine.
With his hands guiding hers, they drew the sword together through the air, a graceful arc that felt entirely foreign to her at first. But with him behind her, it was as if her body understood, moving instinctively under his guidance.
She could feel the ripple of his muscles as he shifted. His attention wholly focused on the task at hand, his jaw set in concentration. Anchhi glanced up at him briefly, catching the sharp line of his profile, the way his jaw clenched and relaxed as he instructed her.
She tried to mirror his movements, but it was impossible not to be distracted by him. Her grip tightened on the hilt of the sword, more from nerves than strength, and her breath came in shallow bursts. The freezing air nipped at her skin, but Shuo Jin's body heat seemed to wrap around her like a blanket, warm and steady.
He didn't seem to notice—or perhaps he did and chose to ignore it—the way she stiffened when he moved closer, or the way her heart raced every time his hand brushed against hers.
But Anchhi... she couldn't focus. Not entirely. How could she, when every inch of her was hyper-aware of him? His breath, his warmth, the steady rhythm of his heart beating against her back. The way his fingers curled over hers, strong yet gentle.
"Like this," he said, drawing her arms up with ease, showing her how to strike with precision. "It's about finesse, not force."
His tone was steady, professional, but Anchhi's thoughts were anything but. She tried to refocus, her mind wrestling with itself to pay attention to the lesson at hand. It's just training, she told herself, just a lesson. But the way her heart fluttered betrayed her attempts to remain calm. She felt vulnerable, exposed under his intense scrutiny, yet there was a part of her that was drawn to it, drawn to him.
"I... I can't focus," she finally admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.
Shuo Jin stilled behind her, his hands falling away from hers. For a moment, the air between them thickened, charged with an emotion neither of them wanted to acknowledge.
"You're distracted," he stated simply, his voice low, unreadable. His dark eyes flicked down to her, studying her expression with an intensity that made her stomach flip.
Anchhi looked away quickly, her cheeks heating under his gaze. "It's not... it's not the sword. I just—" She trailed off, unable to find the words.
Hiss lips curled into a faint, knowing smile. "You're overthinking it. Relax."
Relax? Anchhi wanted to laugh. How could she relax when his very presence was enough to send her thoughts spinning?
But she said nothing, swallowing her discomfort as she gripped the sword tighter. Shuo Jin stepped back, giving her space, though his eyes remained on her, watchful and attentive. He was always watching, always calculating.
"Again," he commanded, his voice sharp now, bringing her back to the task at hand. Anchhi nodded, taking a deep breath before she attempted the motion again. This time, she tried to push her distraction aside, focusing on the sword, on the weight of it in her hands, the feel of the cold metal.
But even as she moved, her mind kept drifting back to the man standing just behind her, his presence never far from her thoughts. She couldn't help but wonder—what was he thinking in that moment? Was he as unaffected as he appeared to be, or was he fighting the same feelings she was?