The Wandering Samurai and his Beloved General (BL)

They weren't doing anything particularly fancy. In fact, after the first five or so clashes, Haruki's movements began to repeat. But precisely because they were the same, his body quickly memorized the patterns, allowing him to focus entirely on speed.

And speed was exactly what Lanling was testing.

Some passing soldiers caught sight of the heavenly display and froze in place, their mouths agape. Moments later, they scrambled to gather their comrades, desperate to share this spectacle. None of them wanted to face disbelief if they recounted the scene later and were accused of dreaming.

The clashing continued for another five minutes until a vivid red streak suddenly cut through the sea of white. Both sides abruptly disengaged.

Gasps rippled through the crowd of onlookers. They craned their necks, straining to see who had been injured. A few immediately sprinted away, shouting for an on-site cleric.

A clean, short cut marked Haruki's right cheek, and blood flowed freely from it. The wound jolted him out of his dreamlike state, and a sense of loss began to fester in his heart. He felt a deep pang of disappointment—sour at being the one to halt their exchange. He didn't want it to end.

But in an instant, that sourness vanished. A clean towel entered his field of vision, followed by the face of his general drawing close. Lanling, who had been a few steps away, was now standing before him, calmly wiping the blood from his wound with the very towel he had clearly used earlier to mop his sweat.

Haruki froze completely, his heart pounding furiously.

He didn't even register how long it took for the physician to arrive; his gaze remained locked on Lanling.

"Clean your wound and rest. Report to my tent first thing tomorrow," Lanling said, his voice like music to Haruki's ears. Haruki nodded absentmindedly, his mind still reeling.

Just as Lanling turned to leave, he paused and glanced back. "Which squad are you from?" he asked, his tone steady but curious.

The question finally broke Haruki's trance, bringing life back to his lips. "I—I'm not in any squad," he stammered. "I haven't been recruited."

"Not recruited? Then why don't you join mine?"

The question came so suddenly that Haruki feared he had misheard it. He nodded instantly. Then, realizing that might not be enough, he blurted out, "Yes! My body is yours!"

The cleric's steady hands faltered for a brief moment before resuming. His gaze flicked toward Haruki, holding a faintly judgmental glint. Perhaps his thoughts had been corrupted lately, but those words sounded like they carried a double meaning. Silently, he continued tending to the young man's wound, the soft yellow glow of his healing light steady in his right hand.

Lanling's gaze lingered on Haruki for a moment, and a slight smile graced his strikingly handsome face. The expression was so radiant it momentarily blinded both the cleric and Haruki, who were standing directly in front of him. Even the soldiers at a distance weren't spared, some visibly dazzled despite their poor vantage. With a nod, Lanling turned and walked away, casually instructing the gathered soldiers to rest for the night as he passed.

The moment he was out of earshot, an uproar erupted around Haruki. As soon as the glow of the cleric's hand faded, Haruki found himself tackled by a swarm of excited soldiers. They clamored around him like monkeys swinging from tree to tree, their voices overlapping in chaotic glee.

"How did you do it?!"

"Spill your secrets!"

"Speak! You were hiding your strength all along, weren't you?!"

"Oh my god! You made the general smile!"

Haruki even noticed the cleric among those crowding around him. The man gave his shoulder a light tap and murmured, "For good luck," before slipping away. The gesture amused the other soldiers, who quickly took to tapping Haruki's shoulder as well, laughing as they claimed to do it for luck.

"I'm really not sure how I did it," Haruki said with a sheepish grin, trying to explain himself. "I just… felt light, like the wind."

Some of the more persistent soldiers escorted him all the way to his tent, peppering him with questions about what had happened. How did he do it? What did it feel like? Why now? Haruki, unable to offer any meaningful answers, found himself repeating the same response over and over, like a broken record.

"It just happened. I felt like the wind, and the general told me to go faster, so I did. I don't even know how to summon it again," he admitted, shrugging helplessly.

One of the soldiers, evidently more thoughtful than the rest, spoke up. "You might have an affinity with the wind. People with that kind of gift usually start contacting elemental spirits as soon as it appears and go on to train as mages. It's not easy to maintain the favor of an element if you stick with being a swordsman."

The comment seemed to strike a chord with the group. A few soldiers laughed awkwardly, realizing they'd been so caught up in the excitement of Haruki's exchange with the general that they'd forgotten something so basic.

Haruki's curiosity was piqued. "Are there any precedents of swordsmen keeping elemental power?" he asked, genuinely intrigued.

The soldier nodded enthusiastically. "Of course! The general is one of them! Didn't you notice the electricity in the air? That's part of what gives him his incredible speed."

Haruki's eyes sparkled with deep admiration. If the general could harness an elemental power alongside his swordsmanship, wouldn't that mean Haruki could someday stand on the same level if he refined his own abilities?

The thought alone ignited a fierce determination in his heart.

As he bid the soldiers goodbye, that sensation of being light as the wind returned. Haruki paused, focusing inward to analyze the changes in his body. He realized the trigger was his overwhelming happiness—pure, unrestrained joy had awakened the feeling. Mentally and physically, he noted the subtle shifts, marveling at how his emotions seemed to spark this newfound power.

He felt a strong urge to head back to the training grounds and test it again, to push himself further. But just as he stepped toward the exit, Lanling's instructions echoed in his mind: Clean your wound and rest.

With a helpless sigh and an indulging smile on his face, Haruki obeyed, retreating into his tent. He shut his eyes tightly, willing himself to suppress his eager heart. The temptation to chase the feeling was strong, but he knew better than to defy his general's orders.