Warning(s): None
Word count: 687
Synopsis: At the end of the week, you would wander into the woodlands where you'd meet up with him by the cascade and spend the majority of your time meditating alongside him or train on your own with him in the area.
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Visiting the forest has become a regular occurrence for you, and not only was it your preferred location to hone your skills it was also where you got to see him almost every week. You were mindful whenever you came to join him by the waterfall to give him some space before taking your spot near the lake to practice.
It was always the same, you'd come by and greet him from afar and he would look over to your direction greeting you with a curt nod. Monotonous as it was you don't mind it and he hasn't complained about your presence so you took it as a good sign. Once it was time to leave you would give him a friendly smile and a wave, telling him that you would see him next week before leaving.
Unaware that he had his eyes trained on you as you disappeared into the shrubbery.
For over three months the interaction between you and him was almost nonexistent, then it all changed.
Once again you were by the cascade and on this particular occasion you were knees deep in the shallow water practicing with your steel fan in hand. Moving around the waters with grace and flow, tuning out the environment except for the sounds of the constant loud snaps of the fan opening and closing.
There was a sense of calm with every movement you made. The precision wielding the fan—snap, snap, snap!—throwing it suddenly in the air and then catching with ease. Droplets of sweat dribbled down your forehead and temple but this didn't halt your flow. Your steady rhythmic breathing displayed your endurance despite the weight of the fan doing its work on your wrists.
With the final snap—opening the fan one last time with your arm extended pointing towards the waterfall. Stillness, your eyes were focused forward as the sounds of nature began to greet you back from the dream-like state you were in.
"Never seen someone use a fan as a weapon before."
When you looked over and were stunned to see that he was standing by the edge of the water with his arms crossed, focused on you.
"That's because not many people see a fan threatening," You straightened yourself from the extended stance, closing the fan with a loud snap keeping it close to your chest. "It has its practical use. The fan won't kill you but the hit of its iron will surely leave a mark."
"It left a mark alright. The sound alone is enough to scare even the smallest wildlife here." He deadpanned watching you register his words and letting out an awkward laugh.
You felt bad for disrupting his mediation without considering the repercussions. "Oh geez, I'm really sorry about that."
He doesn't say anything as he watches you approach. Your legs were soaked to the bone, the light fabric of your martial arts uniform sticking to your skin and went to squeeze the excess water out with your hands, leaving the fan on the ground. His gaze immediately landed onto the blackened steel fan, with his curiosity piqued he went over and picked up the weapon to examine it.
As you were straining the last bit of water from your clothing is when you were startled at the close proximity of his voice.
"Heavy plated steel on a fan," He mused then looked down at you. "Never would've known a fan would be designed this way."
There was a genuine fascination across his dark eyes. You were accustomed to the stoic expression that he always had on, it was refreshing to see how much he was speaking to you and those eyes that said so much are a welcoming sight.
"You'll learn a thing or two from me, that's for sure, Sir." You added with a cheeky smile.
"Piccolo." He blurted out which made you blink in confusion until he repeated himself, "My name is Piccolo."
There was a moment when you forgot to breathe from this. You blinked once—twice, you weren't sure anymore until the corners of your lips curled up.
"(Y/n)."