It's big enough to take both my head and the girl's off with one swing.

How did I miss that?

Its shadow blocks out the light, and towering over us is a massive figure. Green-tinged hide and muscles carved out of stone are just a few feet away. It’s far larger and more imposing than any goblin, wielding a crude club that’s bigger than me, and its glare is filled with predatory intent. It didn't wait for me to look; it’s already here, hunting us.

I realize instantly what that thing is – an orc! The girl’s shove saved both our lives, and yet she doesn’t even give me a second glance.

She looks directly into the orc's face, a look of utter determination fixed in her gaze. There's no fear, no hesitation, just an intense, burning need to survive.

▬▬▬▬With a grunt, the orc wrenches the massive club from the ground, the thick wood scraping against the dirt. Its eyes lock onto the girl, a cruel glint in their depths. Raising the weapon high above its head, it prepares to bring it down on her.

Does she think she can fight that thing alone?

No way!

This isn't a random encounter; it’s a death sentence! I have to stop her before she gets herself killed.

I try to reach out, to grab her arm, to prevent her from doing something foolish.

But,

My body refuses to move.

"Huh?"

My legs feel like they're stuck in cement as I watch the scene unfold, paralyzed by a strange blend of fear and fascination. My brain yells at me to move, to stop her, but I just stand there, my body frozen in place.

What is happening to me?!

It's like I am just reacting to the orc's presence and not acting out of choice, something my grandpa would hate to see...

I am not acting, I am reacting, and therefore I am not in control.

"Sakurakouji, a true warrior acts with intention, not reaction." I'm failing that now

...

I know that look... It’s a face that betrays no emotion. Her silence isn't due to fear; it’s from a focused, intentional calm.

It's a stillness that comes from understanding the nature of action and the consequences that flow from it. She's not running or crying or calling for help. She's not attached to avoidance or aggression, she's analyzing, seeing the reality for what it is: conflict. My grandpa would be proud.

This is something my grandpa taught me, though he called it "strategic detachment." He explained that the path to true liberation doesn't always mean avoiding conflict, but understanding it.

To be aware of the eight fold path, of right action, and that sometimes, right action is not inaction. Not all attachments are bad, to protect ones family, or one's livelihood can sometimes be the only path of action. And if a conflict is to occur, it needs to be done with a clear mind, and for the correct reasons.

My grandpa said I could never be truly free if my life was spent avoiding what he called the "necessary evils."

Is that what she's doing? Is she just accepting the inevitable?

I swallow, feeling my breath tighten in my throat. My chest feels tight, and a deep vibration, like the hum of a distant chant, rises within me — unfamiliar, as if it comes from somewhere beyond myself.

The orc’s heavy breathing presses down on me like a weight, making my blood run cold. Yet behind my eyes, I feel something burning — a foreign heat, fueled by a force I don’t understand.

Her gaze crashes into mine—those wide, violet eyes, so intense it’s like a vortex pulling at my soul, a silent surge of power that rips away any lingering hesitation.

Before I can even form a proper thought, my legs move on their own. My body fights against my mind, but when it comes to the need to protect, my legs move without any more hesitation.

I don't think. I don't hesitate. I just act, shoving her behind me with a hard push, her small body flying backwards.

There's no time. Not even enough time to properly form a thought.

"I need to…protect…"

A solid, impenetrable wall of pure light, from a story I once read, rises in my mind—a shield from ancient legend, powerful and unbreakable.

It's up to me to keep her safe.

I place my left arm in front of myself, and it is at that point that I realize what I've done. I shut my eyes, and a wall of pure energy forms ahead of me, fueled by my innate power and my need to protect, but it's not the shield I see in my mind.

It’s not perfect, not nearly as strong as it should be. But it's there.

‒‒‒‒CRASH!

The force of the blow slams into the shield, and the image shatters.

It's not enough. Not even close.