— MC POV / Yan Hai —
Time slowly passed.
Weeks, then months. The seasons changed.
Autumn leaves fell like drifting embers across the stone courtyard. Winter brought cold winds and thin layers of frost on the garden bridges. Spring returned with soft blossoms and clear skies. Summer arrived with its long days and warm ocean breeze. Through it all, the training never stopped.
Breathwork at sunrise. Walking drills. Balance on narrow beams. Calligraphy in the afternoon. Pai Sho matches after tea. Sword forms until dusk.
At first, I resisted. I thought silence meant wasting time. I wanted action—heat, pressure, results. But I learned. The quiet wasn't empty. It taught me to listen.
I breathed better. Moved smoother. Thought clearer.
"You're stepping lighter," Piandao said one morning.
"Still not light enough," I answered.
He smiled. "Good. It means you're paying attention."
Fat was always nearby now. He helped set up targets, brewed tea, and reset the Pai Sho board. He never spoke. But I stopped needing him to. He was constant. Steady.
—
One cold morning, Piandao brought me below the compound.
It was a forge.
Stone walls wrapped around racks of tools and bins of metal. The air was thick with heat, smoke, and the smell of iron. Lanterns glowed above, casting long shadows that danced across the floor. Flames roared from the furnace.
"This is where the sword begins," Piandao said. "You've trained your mind. Now you'll shape your weapon."
He sparked the fire. The forge came alive.
Day by day, I learned. Heat the metal. Fold it. Hammer it. Quench it. Sharpen. Polish.
We worked side by side. Sometimes he corrected my grip. Sometimes he showed me how to strike. But he never finished a task for me.
"This sword is yours," he said. "Only you can make it."
It wasn't perfect. But it was mine.
—
Time passed again. Spring gave way to summer. The coastal air turned warm. Training moved longer into the day. My hands grew stronger. My focus sharpened.
One morning, I found a chest outside my door.
Inside was a single block of dark crystal, glowing faintly with hints of violet and green. It pulsed like quiet thunder.
"Crystal Earth," Piandao said. "A gift from Ba Sing Se. Harder than steel. Lighter than iron. This piece is rare. It's yours."
"You want to make a sword out of this?", I asked.
He simply nodded.
I didn't ask where he got it.
I bowed.
We forged the blade.
It fought back. The crystal was stubborn, but it responded to precision. Days passed in the forge. Sparks flew like stars. My arms ached. But I shaped it. Slowly. Carefully.
When it was done, I held it in both hands.
The sword was sleek. Single-edged. Slightly curved. Like a chokutō. The metal shimmered darkly, drinking in the light. The hilt was wrapped in deep blue cloth. The grip was firm. The guard, a simple oval of polished iron, bore Piandao's mark.
The blade had a faint wave across its surface—a mark of the folds it had endured.
It slid into its sheath with a quiet click.
"You made this," Piandao said. "You carry it not to conquer, but to protect what others can't."
He paused.
"Don't forget who forged it—yourself included."
I looked at the blade. It wasn't fire.
But it was mine. And it would not break.
— Piandao POV —
A student reveals himself slowly.
Yan Hai was sharp, silent, and guarded. His posture was noble. His pain was quiet but deep. He trained hard. Harder than most. But he carried loss in every step.
So I didn't rush him.
I taught him to be still. To listen. To fail and rise again. Every fall off a beam, every silent Pai Sho loss, every breath held too long—it showed him what strength meant.
He thought he had to burn to be strong.
But fire is just one path.
The sword he made showed something new. He didn't just build a weapon. He forged a new version of himself.
He's not done yet. He's not ready.
But now, he's not lost.
And that's why I trained him.
Because he chose to become more.
_______________________________________________
(A/N: The training arc wraps up here. Sasuke's no longer the same boy who arrived. With his new sword—and a clearer sense of self—he's almost ready to begin the next part of his story.
I gave him the same sword in Shippuden, and not the twin swords Zuko wielded. He isn't Zuko after all.
How does the pacing feel? The writing style?
I am debating if I should just call him Sasuke in the 1st person and Yan Hai whenever someone is talking in his disguise. It makes sense to me and this way, you, my readers, know who we are referring to easier.
Anyways! Chapter 24 is coming next. Let's go!)