"He who is lonely often meets his destiny on the road he takes to avoid it."

"Your mind is like this water, my dearest disciple. When it is agitated, it becomes difficult to see. But if you allow it to settle...the answer becomes clear." The Master's deep voice rang throughout the pagoda, and Mingyu twisted his arm uncomfortably behind him, reaching for his spear, dipping a silk cloth (Wonwoo's, goddamnit) into the intricately carved dragon basin, ripples drifting across the surface, blurring out the lotus leaves just beneath the water in a terrible act of irony. How could he think straight when there was to only be one Dragon Warrior? How was he to leave Wonwoo behind in pursuit of glory and knighthood? He furrowed his brows, thoughts drifting like ink across coarse rice paper, and it was only when he heard the Master's aggravated sigh that he noticed he had pierced a hole in the fabric with the sharp tip. "Go back and have a good rest," His shifu commanded, "you've been distracted all day." With a grunted agreement, he heaved the sack of martial arts weapons onto his back, bowing sincerely, before pushing the heavy oak doors of the tower open, stepping out into the deep purple wash of the night sky, the promise of cold rain lingering in the humid air as the market began to stir into life, lanterns strung up overhead. And there Wonwoo stood, eyes crinkling as he grinned, crossbow slung across his shoulder, hands tucked adorably into the sleeves of his robe. "Fireworks," he mouthed, and it was all Mingyu could do to smile.