Across The Sky With You

The rhythmic clang of sabers echoed through the Davin Swordsmanship School, a sound as ancient as Emmaly itself. Khanin, with the grace of a seasoned dancer and the precision of a surgeon, moved across the practice hall. He was number one here, a title he wore with quiet confidence, a testament to countless hours spent perfecting his art under his father’s relentless tutelage. But today, a different kind of clang resonated in his mind – the unsettling thud of heavy boots following him, a presence he couldn't shake.

Later, in the familiar comfort of his London home, the scent of Khao Soi filled the air, a culinary reminder of his father’s Emmaly roots. Tatdanai, ever the stoic taskmaster, watched him with an intensity that promised another grueling training session. Khanin sighed, pushing away the noodles he detested, his mind replaying the strange encounter on the train, the man in the gray hoodie, the unsettling feeling of being watched. He was a fencer, not a detective, yet an invisible opponent seemed to be closing in.