Chương 40: Chapter 39: A Place to Grow

Training became routine faster than I expected. Every morning we walked into the forest. Ella found something for me to fight — different species, different biomes, different strategies. I lost most of them. Won a few. With each fight, I would learn something. I woke sore. I went to bed sore. Somewhere in between I ate and bathed and tried not to think about how far I still had to go. Ella switched between her two selves without warning.

In the forest, she was the bloody queen — short words, flat commands, no room for error. Back at the house, she was the woman in my clothes who queued up anime and fought with Yato over space her spot on the couch. I was getting used to both. But the training wasn't the only thing happening. The seedlings were ready. I noticed Ella carrying them out one by one — tomato, pepper, courgette — each in their own pot, cradled like they were worth more than everything else in the house combined.

She walked past me without a word and brought them to the edge of the pond. She dug the holes herself. Her hands in the dirt. Carefully. Patiently. The way she did everything when she wasn't slaughtering something. I stayed out of her way. If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it. I'd learned that lesson. She planted them in a loose arc along the bank — close enough to drink from the water, far enough that the roots wouldn't drown.

When she was done, she sat back on her heels and looked at them. Twelve small green stems standing in fresh soil. I watched from the porch. She didn't look up. But she didn't have to. The pond needed fish. Ella said it one morning at breakfast. Not a question. Not a suggestion.

"The pond needs a couple of fish." I looked up from my plate.

"I'll keep some from the trap." We walked to the river together. Of course I brought the usual bucket. The river was high — still fed by meltwater, still pressing against its banks. The fish trap sat in its usual spot, a few moving shapes visible through the mesh. I crouched at the edge and retrieved the trap. I lifted it out. There were three fish inside. The first one was white. Palm-sized. Silver-white scales catching the light. Ella was watching from the bank. I set the bucket down and went back for another.

The second one was black. Same species. Same size. Same shape. But where the first one was pale as river stone, this one was dark — almost blue-black in the right light. I spotted it lingering near the inlet. Waited. Moved slow. The bucket slid under it on the first try. And the third one was smaller, dark gray with six long whiskers. I carried them back to the pond and lowered the bucket into the water. The fish swam out without hesitation — white, gray and black, side by side, disappearing into the depths.

The pond wasn't empty anymore. Ella was already at the edge, crouched low, watching the ripples settle. Her feet were bare. She'd taken her shoes off at some point without me noticing. I sat on the porch at dusk. Yato was on my lap. The forest had grown back around the village completely now — green on all sides, the way it had been before winter. I was sore. I was always sore now. But I was better than I'd been a week ago.

"Do you want to go there?" Ella was beside me. I hadn't heard her approach.

"In the city," I said. She followed my gaze. She was quiet for a moment. I waited.

"I don't know. I think... Yes, I think we should." Her voice was flat. Not empty — holding something down.