Web of light. book 1

"So, the squad is at the edge of the forest. In front of you is an abandoned watchtower. Lights flash in the windows, and the wind brings the smell of burning. What are you doing?"

Yumi pushed the miniature of her ranger forward:

"My ranger goes into the shadows. He feels that someone is there-not just a guard, but something... old. He signals to the others, `Quiet. Don't go out into the open.'.

The master nodded and made a note.

"Yu? Your sorceress?"

Yu looked at the cube, then at Yumi. She nodded almost imperceptibly, saying that it's okay, you can.

"My sorceress is taking out a wand," Yu said, and her voice sounded steady, without trembling. And he casts a spell of light. She wants to see what's hiding in the shadows."

The Master smiled:

"Good. You create a bright ball, it soars up and freezes over the tower. In its light, you can see: on the wall, high up, stands a figure in a ragged cloak. And she's looking right at you."

Yu clutched the bag of cubes.

"Then I throw to the attack. A fireball."

She shook the bag and rolled the cube on the table. It rolled, bounced on the corner of a leaf, and froze.

"Twenty," Yu said softly.

Yumi immediately slammed her palm on the table, not loudly, but in such a way that everyone in the club involuntarily smiled.

"Yes! Critical strike! The universe just says, `You finally screamed!'"

The master made a note and nodded:

"The fireball is flying right at the target. Flames engulf the figure, the cloak bursts into flames, and it falls off the wall... but does not break. At the last moment, she disappears into the shadows, leaving behind only the smell of ozone and ash. She's gone," the master said, "but she'll be back. And now she knows your faces."

The room went quiet for a second. Then Yumi pushed a box of mochi towards Yu.

"Hold. It's a `moral restoration potion.' It's soft and sticky, but it works flawlessly.

Yu picked up the mochi from the matcha and took a careful bite. The sweetness of the red beans and the slight bitterness of the matcha made everything easier for a second: the tower, the enemy, even their own doubts.

"So the tower is ours now," Yu said calmly, looking at the miniatures. "We took up a position. And we know that the enemy will return. But now we'll be ready."

Yumi nodded, arranging the pieces so that they faced in different directions.

"My ranger will take up a post at the entrance. He will keep an eye on the shadows."

"And my sorceress will put up the warning lights," Yu added. "Don't let them be too bright. Let them just remind you: we are here. And we are not afraid to shout."

The master looked at them, then at his notes, and said softly:

"Great. The squad occupied the tower. The next move is for the shadows. But for now, you have this moment of silence."

* * *

When the sheets were put away, the miniatures were hidden in boxes, and the cubes returned to the velvet bag, the club became very quiet — only you could hear someone rustling foil, and someone pouring green tea from a thermos.

The guys from the club sat on the floor with their legs tucked under them and passed boxes of mochi to each other. Someone laughed,

"I was so worried that my paladin would fall down the stairs that I almost dropped a real glass!"

Someone was nodding seriously:

"But he didn't fall. Because we were covering for him."

Yu was sitting with her back against the cupboard, holding a plastic cup of green tea in her hands. Yumi plopped down next to her and handed her a mochi with red beans:

Yumi plopped down next to her and handed her a mochi with red beans:

"It's a trophy. For a critical hit."

"Thank you," Yu smiled. "But actually... it wasn't just my punch. It was the whole squad."

"Yeah," Yumi nodded, taking a bite of the mochi and wincing slightly at the sweetness. "But you got the cube. So, today you are the main success of the squad."

One of the guys raised his cup:

"Behind the tower. For taking her."

Everyone joined in:

"For the tower!"

Yu laughed softly, and that laugh was as calm as a sip of green tea.

"You know," she told Yumi when everyone started talking about the next game, new traps, and how best to hide the ranger in the shadows. "sometimes it seems to me that if I mess up even one line in translation, the whole of Hogwarts will collapse."

Yumi looked at her seriously, without joking:

"But you won't mess it up. And if it suddenly seems like you've ruined it, we'll sit down, have tea, have a moti and fix it. Like today: first we saved the tower, then we sat down and exhaled."

Yu nodded.

"And Moti helps."

"Of course," Yumi said confidently. "It's not just sweetness. This is the official potion "+2 for peace and +1 for friendship". Verified."

And in that moment of silence there was everything: cold green tea, soft mochi, miniatures in boxes, and two friends who knew that as long as they were around, even the darkest shadow could not take away this evening from them.

Chapter 5. Noihara Trip

6.

One day off! ALONE! If it weren't for that, my life would be a raspberry... Well, until the age of sixteen. I had to wait for the holidays to go to Noihara. It seems that we have a clan library. It seems to be "useless" — the GH from the manga did not even manage to stick his nose into it. `Techniques are passed down by word of mouth.' Yeah, yeah, and the description of the strategic weapon, the demon cats, just lies in the house. I don't think so.

The Amakawa took a deliberately advantageous path — recruiting strong units in the enemy's camp (not everyone needed to be defeated, some did not mind cooperating themselves), and then — support in battle. I wonder what motivated these energy substances to fight? Is it really only the safety of living next to people? It sounds like nonsense.

True, Noihara is now just the "home" enclave of the "sworn in," but it seems to me that most of them have fled with the death of their grandfather and parents. Or was it released on purpose while there is no support? In a certain sense, spirits are vulnerable. In order to somehow influence the world of people, they have to partially materialize.... Damn, the physicist in me is writhing and demanding Einstein's blood, but I have to admit that I didn't turn out to be much of a physicist. A materialized spirit can be killed with ordinary weapons. However, these bastards, even the weakest ones, are very fast. But not faster than a bullet, here Kim's Harald Potter is absolutely right. We should think about where a nine-year-old child can get an AKM or UZI. Do you think I'm joking?"

pov Rinko's.

Life is gradually turning into a routine. Prepare breakfast and bento. Should I wake up Yuto, who is sitting at the computer, and what is he reading in English? And in what's-his-name Russian. And how does he know it?

Although Yuto goes to the library for manga, he prefers to read English or Russian literature, he says he does not want to forget the language. It's strange, I hadn't noticed his craving for foreign literature before. Although he did say that his parents traveled a lot abroad.

7.

I overestimated myself a bit. I haven't been nine years old for a long time! My legs get tired. You sit for 10 minutes and it's all gone. One minute I'm thirsty, the next I'm hungry. I've already eaten an ekiben in a small box, I try to drink the mineral water little by little — you can't buy it here. I've been climbing the mountain for two hours now. Rough.

Going to the clan house of relatives who died in bose is a bit fast: according to the manga, Ayakashi is a vampire (what's her name? I don't remember) my companions are waiting for me right here. But logically, the bloodsucker set up an ambush only after the heir of Amakawa appeared to the world, but for now I'm kind of gone. I wonder if my amulet only protects me from the "glow" of delicious magical energy, or does it completely cut me off from the spirit world? To go to the "holy places", I remember, the "water god" who stuck to Yuto was an ordinary water spirit. If "ordinary" can be called a creature comparable in strength to the one-tailed jinchuriki from Naruto, only a watery one, not a sandy one. Yes, analogies with anime about a moron from the Uzumaki clan come to my mind more and more often. Only here I'm more of a hybrid of two GH: Sasuke and Naruto. Yes, I don't have red eyes, but I think having such a kekkei genkai, that is, an "improved genome", it's not a problem to get them. As I said, the "farry of light" can be applied to yourself. I feel like a Konoha genie, but Danzo is not here. Wait, or is there?

Yuto was climbing a narrow path that wound through low but steep slopes. The stones crumbled slightly under his soles, and each time he took a short pause so as not to slip. The air here was denser than in the city: it smelled of damp earth and moss. With every step, Noihara was getting closer-not just a dot on the horizon, but a real home that seemed to be waiting for him to return.

He was a little out of breath, but he wasn't in a hurry. Down in the valley, there was a noisy world full of other people's voices and haste. But here, among these hills, time seemed to pass more slowly. Yuto stopped for a moment, rested his palm on the warm stone, and looked ahead, where the roofs of the houses were already peeking out from around the bend. And suddenly I thought: "I wonder if Rinko is sitting somewhere in the sun and eating onigiri?" The thought made him feel a little better, and he stepped forward again, more confidently, as if the road itself were whispering: "You're almost home."

Rinko's pov.

Yuto went to Grandpa Gen's clan house to see what kind of house was in Noihara. He said he wants to see what's in the clan library. The city immediately became boring without him. I hope he makes a good trip and there won't be any problems on the road.

Cso, it's all about smarty, okay, she goes to the kendo club just to take a closer look at boken. He may ask you to show him a few strokes. Rinko saw him off at the train station, put another candy bar in her backpack ("In case there's no proper food there"), and a bottle of mineral water. She waved until the train disappeared around the bend, and then stood there for another minute, as if waiting for him to lean out the window and shout, "Don't do anything here!"

But the windows were silent, the platform was emptying, and the city suddenly became too big and too quiet. Rinko shivered, pulled on her cap from the scorching September sun and went home, listening to her own footsteps pounding loudly on the asphalt, as if to prove: She's here, she's not gone anywhere.

By evening, the silence began to oppress. Without Yuto, who grumbled, corrected her crazy ideas and put everything on the shelves, even an ordinary house seemed alien. Rinko was flipping through the manga-the one with the laconic cover "Silence before a lunge"-but the lines were floating in front of her eyes. She closed the book, tapped her fingers on the table, then abruptly stood up.

"Okay," she muttered to herself. "If I have nothing to break, I'll go see how others break themselves."

* * *

The dojo was not what she had imagined. No gloomy romance: just a neat room with a wooden floor, white walls and the smell of fresh wood. At the entrance, she was met by a woman in dogi, strict but not cold.

"The trial session for beginners is today at six. If you want, stay. We'll give you a uniform, and so will Sinai. The main thing is not to try to defeat everyone at once.

Rinko chuckled:

"I'm not winning. I... just wanted to see if it would suit me. I only held a stick in my hands about two years ago."

The woman raised an eyebrow slightly, as if she had heard this every day:

"That's what everyone says. And then they stay."

Rinko was given great danes, shown how to tie a belt, and how to hold a shinai-a light, springy sword that looked nothing like the heavy sword from the manga. And on the stick that her dad handed her, who decided to introduce her to family traditions. But he couldn't show his stances and punches properly, he said that he had already forgotten that his grandfather had shown him swearing at him as a child.

"Kihon first," the mentor said calmly. "Basic strikes, stances, moves. No drama. Only precision."

And that's when Rinko suddenly felt something snap inside.

Desk. The distance. The angle of impact.

It was like those conversations with Yuto about leverage: not `stronger', but `more accurate'. Not `faster', but `at the right moment'. Each blow was decomposed into simple elements: step, body rotation, blade direction, exhalation.

"The point of application of force. The center of balance. Timing," these words seemed to pop up in her head, as if she wasn't in the dojo, but was sitting next to Yuto again and listening to him explain physics on his fingers.

`On the very first exercise, she almost tripped over her own feet.' Shinai seemed to be too heavy, too light, and the rhythm that the mentor set did not match the way Rinko was used to moving.

"Take your time," the woman repeated calmly, coming closer and gently adjusting her grip. "Kendo is not about speed. It's about making sure that every step you take is necessary." Rinko clenched her teeth, exhaled, and tried again. And more. And more.

By the end of the class, she was drenched in sweat, and her shoulders were buzzing as if she were carrying bags. But when she put the shinai on the shelf and took off her gloves, a smile appeared on her face-tired, but real.

"Well," the teacher asked, watching Rinko try to fold the dogs neatly, although her hands were shaking from fatigue. "Will you come again?"

Rinko thought for a moment, as if she was weighing not `yes or no', but what this word would mean for her next.

"Yes," she said finally. "I... want to understand how it works."

On the way home, she took out her phone and typed a short message:

"I went to kendo. I didn't break anything. But I almost broke my shoulders. But I think I like the way things work out there. It's like they're your levers, just in motion. Text me when you get there normally."

She sent it and put the phone back in her pocket, not expecting Yuto to answer right now. It was enough for her to just know that there was someone to tell.

Rinko woke up the next morning and realized one simple thing: she couldn't raise her hand properly to pour herself a glass of water. Her shoulders, back, even her wrists ached as if she hadn't learned how to hold a light bamboo shinai yesterday, but was carrying bags of cement.

"Well, that's it," she muttered, carefully setting the cup down on the table so as not to touch the edge with her sore hand. "And I also thought that everything in manga was exaggerated."