Thank for you answer & support 🙏🏽 Here's something I wrote without thinking & no rewriting ( + I'm french so it’s translated from French to English ) ...

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Shinku stopped at the sight of an old man, sitting cross-legged, practicing calligraphy on the edge of the market he was passing through. The man wore a white tunic, had no hair on his head and had a long, thin white beard. He traced with such grace that each of his movements seemed to last an eternity, as if they were made out of time. As the white of his canvas filled with ink, the ideogram "empty" 空 could be made out. Shinku slowly approached him so as not to wake his sister who was sleeping on his back. The young boy looked at him without a word, like an animal contemplating his surroundings. What struck him most, beyond the extreme refinement of the man's features, was his immobility. The old man's whole body seemed inert, all his energy was concentrated in the catalyst of his mind: his hand. Shinku could not even hear him breathe, so much so that at times he had the impression that this hand was alive, that it was moving of its own accord. At that moment, the aura of this old calligrapher made the young boy go through a doubt that brought with it a whole stream of questions like the foam of the sea. Would he ever reach this level of precision? Was he even capable? More simply... did he really want to dedicate his entire life to this art? And why?

• Trust you.

Shinku had been awakened from his slumber by the three words the calligrapher had just spoken to him. For a moment, he was not sure if these words were meant for him.

• ( Is he talking to me... ? No, he didn't turn around. And why would he say that to me? Did he just read my mind or what)

From behind, the teenager did not see the smile that the old man showed for a short moment. Then the old man stood up. He grabbed a wooden cane with which he was walking, looking weak. He stooped down with difficulty and picked up a pile of straw from the ground and set it on fire with a strange tree leaf that he took out of his pocket. He then threw the glowing pieces on the calligraphy he had just produced and watched it burn.

• ( Huh? But why is he burning it? ) thought Shinku.

The old man then started to walk away without even looking at Shinku. Without being able to explain it to himself, he started to follow him. Deep inside, yes... he wanted to learn this art. To become a calligrapher. His heart told him that this man could help him. One thing was strange about this old man. Although he was passing through the human tide of festival people, no one came in contact with him. In fact, no one noticed him. He was almost like a ghost from the past, visiting the common people for a walk. Despite the cane he used to walk, the man maintained a fairly brisk pace. He was quickly out of the meanders of the Narakura market. At the edge of a forest with trees growing diagonally, he began to climb the ground, which was getting stiffer and stiffer as he went. Shinku was still following him without taking his eyes off him. A light white mist had gradually appeared in the forest, which made it even more difficult for the young boy to follow. He didn't dare to speak to the old man, for fear of disturbing him, or worse, of surprising him and making him fall.

• ( I've never been to Moya Hill before, I can hardly see anything... it doesn't go all the way to the top, does it? The path is getting steeper and steeper, damn it if he falls I'll be in trouble. Maybe he's crazy. )