Kurogane Ikki: "Another one!"

Two Months Later – The First Test

The morning mist curled around the courtyard, clinging to the wooden beams like a ghostly presence. The air carried the crisp scent of damp earth, the distant aroma of boiling rice wafting from the kitchen. A faint breeze stirred the fallen leaves, sending them skittering across the packed dirt.

Ikki sat on the ground, his tiny hands pressing against the earth, his black eyes sharp and unblinking. His posture was steady, his growing limbs no longer as frail as when he first arrived. Though still a mere child, his gaze carried an unnatural focus, his breath even as he observed the towering figure before him.

Across from him stood Tengri Baatar.

The warrior was crouched low, his thick fingers rolling a small stone between them. His expression was unreadable, but his storm-gray eyes gleamed with barely concealed excitement. The way the boy had moved in the past two months… it had stirred something deep in the warrior's blood. A thrill. A challenge.

And warriors respected strength, no matter how small the source.

"We shall play a game, little one," Tengri murmured, voice gruff but amused. "You must not let the stone hit you."

Ikki blinked, tilting his head ever so slightly.

Guo Ren, seated comfortably on the porch, hummed thoughtfully. "Hmph. You expect a child to dodge when he does not even know what he should avoid?"

Tengri smirked but did not respond.

Instead, he flicked the first pebble.

The small stone bounced harmlessly near Ikki's knee.

The child did nothing.

Tengri hummed in amusement. "Again."

Another pebble.

This time, it landed closer. Ikki watched it land, his fingers curling slightly, as if trying to understand the movement.

Guo Ren, stroking his beard, smirked. "Hah. Perhaps he thinks you're feeding him."

Tengri chuckled lowly, rolling another stone in his palm. "Then let us make it clearer."

The next pebble came faster.

It struck the dirt directly in front of Ikki's hands. His fingers flinched.

Tengri's eyes gleamed.

Guo Ren lowered his tea.

The next stone came even quicker.

And before it could land—

Ikki moved.

His small fingers jerked back, his tiny body shifting slightly, just barely avoiding the stone before it could graze his wrist.

The motion was instinctive. Not deliberate.

Tengri stilled.

Guo Ren raised a brow.

Ikki, however, only blinked, looking at his own hand as if confused by his own reaction.

Tengri's smirk widened. "Interesting."

Another pebble. Faster.

Ikki dodged again.

And again.

Each time, his movements grew sharper, slightly more fluid—not out of understanding, but from something deeper.

Guo Ren exhaled through his nose. "Instinct is not intelligence," he muttered. "A rabbit can dodge a hawk's shadow. That does not mean it understands the sky."

Tengri let the last pebble fall through his fingers, his grin unfading.

"A rabbit cannot sharpen its fangs, either."

He stood, brushing the dust from his hands before locking eyes with the child once more.

"Next time, little one…" Tengri turned, walking toward the manor's entrance. "I will not hold back."

Ikki watched him go, his small fingers curling.

For the first time since arriving in this world—

He wanted to win.

A Scholar's Experiment

Later that evening, the courtyard was quiet, the air crisp with the first signs of approaching winter. The only sounds were the occasional creak of wood and the rustling of parchment as Guo Ren sat cross-legged on the porch, deep in thought.

Across from him, Ikki sat on the floor, his dark eyes unblinking.

Tengri leaned against the wooden post, arms crossed, his ever-present smirk lingering.

Guo Ren stroked his beard. "A warrior sees strength. A scholar sees method. I say we test his mind."

Tengri chuckled. "And I say we test his reflexes further."

The two men exchanged a look.

Guo Ren exhaled. "Very well."

With that, the scholar reached into his sleeve and retrieved a brush.

"Little one," he murmured, dipping it into the inkstone beside him. "We shall play another game."

Ikki tilted his head.

Tengri's smirk widened.

Guo Ren flicked the brush toward Ikki's forehead.

Ikki's brows furrowed slightly. His body leaned back.

The ink missed him by a hair's breadth.

Tengri let out a low laugh. "Oh? That was no accident."

Guo Ren grinned.

Another flick—Ikki dodged again.

Then another. And another.

The brush missed each time, the ink splattering harmlessly onto the ground.

The two men leaned forward slightly, watching the child with rapt attention.

Then—Tengri suddenly threw a pebble at the same time as Guo Ren's brush stroke.

Ikki dodged both.

Guo Ren and Tengri froze.

Then—

A thunderous roar erupted behind them.

"WHAT IN THE NINE HELLS ARE YOU TWO DOING?!"

The ground shook.

Guo Ren and Tengri immediately stiffened, their backs going rigid as they turned ever so slowly.

Standing in the doorway was ikki grandmother, her sleeves rolled up, her eyes blazing with murderous intent.

Guo Ren opened his mouth—but Tengri, the great warrior of the steppes, was faster.

"We were merely testing his reflexes," Tengri said smoothly, adjusting his stance like a man about to dodge an incoming spear.

She marched forward, pointing a deadly finger at the towering warrior.

"You were throwing things at a BABY?! HAVE YOU BOTH LOST YOUR DAMNED MINDS?!"

Guo Ren scoffed, crossing his arms. "It is an experiment. We are scholars and warriors. We test things."

"YOU TEST RABBITS, NOT INFANTS, YOU ABSURD OLD FOOL!"

Guo Ren straightened his back indignantly. "The boy is different."

"HE'S TWO."

Guo Ren's eye twitched. "Two and very capable."

Mei Lian swung her rag at him, smacking him across the head.

Tengri choked back his laughter.

"And YOU!" Mei Lian turned on the warrior, eyes blazing. "You're supposed to be the responsible one!"

Tengri blinked. "Since when?"

Mei Shi the old maid than grabbed him by the sleeve and dragged him forward.

"You're going to wash this child. Properly. And you—" she pointed at Guo Ren, "are going to STOP THROWING THINGS AT HIM."

Guo Ren muttered, "Hmph. The Dao of Knowledge requires rigorous testing."

Mei Lian raised the wooden ladle she had been holding.

Guo Ren stepped back. Tengri surrendered immediately.

The men had lost.

Ikki, watching all of this, suddenly let out a pure, bright giggle.

He clapped his hands.

The adults stilled.

Then—Guo Ren and Tengri burst into laughter.

Even Mei Shi sighed, rubbing her forehead.

Ikki had passed their test.

But, perhaps more importantly, they had all failed his grandmother's patience.

He wanted to win.