The Training Ground

[Norn's perspective]

I woke before dawn.

The sky outside the window was still half-dark, with only a thin line of light in the east.

I got dressed and felt around under the bed for the old wooden sword. The leather on its hilt had worn pale. Aisha had dug it out of the storeroom. It was lighter than I'd expected, but it felt just right in my hands.

A makeshift training ground had already been set up in the yard. Several wooden posts had been driven into the ground, with ropes strung between them to make a fence. The ground had been trampled flat, bit by bit, by Father over the past few days. He only had one hand, so it must have taken him a lot of effort. But he never let anyone help.

"The first thing Father taught me was how to stand. He said that if you couldn't stand steady, your sword would swing crooked too."

I raised the wooden sword and took the stance Father had taught me. Right foot forward, left foot back, knees slightly bent, center of gravity lowered. Both hands gripped the hilt, with the tip pointing forward.

I swung, chopping from top to bottom.

The sound of the wind was wrong. Too fast-the blade wobbled in the air.

I reset my stance and swung again.

Still wrong.

I swung once more. This one was a little better, but my wrists were aching. It was only my third swing, and I was already struggling. How embarrassing.

My brother could smash rocks to pieces with magic when he was eight. Aisha could cook a whole tableful of food when she was six. I was eight now, and I couldn't even swing a wooden sword properly.

"Stop thinking. There's no use thinking about that. Just keep swinging. My brother told me that talent was important, but anyone who worked hard was sure to do well."

The fourth swing, the fifth, the sixth.

My arms started to shake. Sweat dripped from my forehead into my eyes, stinging painfully. I wiped it away with my sleeve and kept swinging.

When the sun rose, Father came out of the house.

He carried his old sword in his right hand, his empty left sleeve swaying at his waist. He came to the edge of the training ground and watched me for a while. He didn't say whether I was doing well or badly; he just came over and pressed my shoulder with his right hand.

"Lower your center of gravity a little more."

I crouched a little lower.

"That's right, just that height. Don't move."

He went around behind me and used his right hand to lift my elbow a little, then twisted my sword hilt slightly to the right.

"That's the basic stance of the Sword God Style. Remember it."

"I will."

"Now swing a hundred times."

"A hundred?"

"Too many? Make it two hundred, then."

"...A hundred it is."

The corners of Father's mouth twitched in what passed for a smile. He went and sat down nearby. With his right hand, he pulled a small notebook out of his pocket and flipped through it. He was probably keeping track of something.

I began to swing. One, two, three...

By the thirtieth swing, my arms no longer felt like my own. By the fiftieth, my vision was starting to go dark, and by the seventieth, I nearly threw the sword away.

"Don't stop. Father said a hundred, so it's a hundred."

The ninety-eighth swing, the ninety-ninth, the hundredth.

I crouched on the ground, gasping for breath. The wooden sword had slipped from my hands, and I couldn't feel my arms anymore.

"Very good," Father said.

Just two words, but I felt they were worth more than anything.

My sister-in-law came while she was having breakfast.

She carried a bowl of porridge into the yard and crouched at the edge of the training ground to watch me for a while. Her red hair was tied in a ponytail, and her sword hung at her waist. She didn't put down her bowl as she ate, just held it while she watched.

"Is that a Sword God Style stance?" she asked.

"Yes. Father taught me."

My sister-in-law took a sip of porridge without saying anything. After watching for a while, she put down her bowl, stood up, and walked into the training ground.

"Do it again. Let me see."

I picked up the wooden sword and went through the stance I'd just been practicing from the beginning.

My sister-in-law was silent for a few seconds after watching.

"The Sword God Style stance is right, but you're swinging the sword wrong."

"Huh? What's wrong with it?"

"You're just swinging with force," my sister-in-law said. "You use your body to drive it out. Your shoulders should move first, then your arms, and the sword last, like cracking a whip."

She took the wooden sword from me and stood where I had been.

Then she swung it once.

The sound of the wind was completely different. My sword went "swish" when I swung it, but my sister-in-law's went "whoom," loud and clear.

"See that?"

"...I saw it."

"Come on, I'll teach you. It's a method Rujierd taught me. It's better suited to real combat than the Sword God Style's basics."

"Is Rujierd your teacher?" I asked her.

"You could say that. He's a friend of your brother's and mine. We met him on the Demon Continent, and he's really strong!" Her eyes lit up as she spoke.

I looked at her but didn't answer.

My sister-in-law began teaching me another way to swing. I swept sideways, using my waist and shoulders to turn my whole body, with my arms following at the very end. She said Rujierd had taught her this on the Demon Continent. Against monsters bigger than yourself, your arms alone weren't nearly enough.

I tried to copy her and nearly twisted my back on the first swing.

"Your center of gravity's too low. Rise a little."

The second swing was better, but the sword tip veered up toward the sky.

"Don't stiffen your wrists. Relax."

The third swing... I thought I was starting to get a tiny bit of a feel for it. Shoulder, arm, sword tip-it was as though a single line connected them.

My sister-in-law nodded.

At some point, Father had come to stand at the edge of the training ground, still holding the half-finished bowl of porridge. His brow was furrowed.

"Eris, that's not the Sword God Style, is it?"

"I know," my sister-in-law said without turning around. "It's Rujierd's practical swordsmanship."

"Huh? The Superd Race member you two protected on your way across the Demon Continent?"

"Yeah," my sister-in-law replied.

"In that case, he really is strong. But practical swordsmanship has its own principles, and she should master the basics first. She's only just learned the stance, and you're already teaching her something else. You'll throw her foundation into confusion."

My sister-in-law turned around. "You can spend your whole life practicing the basics, and they'll still just be the basics. What she needs is swordsmanship she can fight with."

"Fight what? She's only eight."

"When I was eight, Ghislaine was already teaching me to kill."

Hearing that, he apparently choked on the porridge. He coughed a few times and hurriedly set the bowl on a post.

"Cough, cough... Well, Norn, which one do you want to learn?"

They both looked at me.

I looked at Father, then at my sister-in-law. Father taught the proper Sword God Style, taking it one step at a time, like laying a foundation before building a house. My sister-in-law taught practical techniques, better suited to fighting and killing.

I thought for a moment, then said, "Can't I learn both?"

Father and my sister-in-law fell silent at the same time.

Then Father sighed. "...All right."

The corners of my sister-in-law's mouth rose.

After that, I practiced the Sword God Style's basic stances and swings with Father in the mornings, and Rujierd's practical swordsmanship with my sister-in-law in the afternoons. The two were indeed different. Father's swordsmanship emphasized speed, precision, and getting it right in one move. My sister-in-law's emphasized using force, turning, and striking with the momentum. Sometimes I got them mixed up while practicing, and halfway through a swing I wouldn't know which direction to move.

But little by little, I began to understand.

Father's sword was a straight line. The shortest distance, the greatest speed.

My sister-in-law's sword was an arc. When an opponent attacked, instead of meeting the blow head-on, she guided his force around in a circle, then struck back from the side.

Both were right, and both were necessary.

When the sun was close to setting, I couldn't swing anymore. I sprawled in the dirt of the training ground. My wooden sword lay beside me, its blade covered in mud and sweat.

My sister-in-law came over, crouched beside me, and handed me a water flask.

"Drink."

I took it and gulped down three big mouthfuls. Water spilled from the corners of my mouth and ran down my chin.

"You'll be really strong someday too," my sister-in-law said.

I looked at her. The setting sun shone from behind her, tracing her silhouette with a golden-red glow.

"Really?"

"Really! You work a lot harder than I did when I was eight. Back then, all I did was lose my temper."

I couldn't help laughing. Hearing my sister-in-law say all she did was lose her temper was a little funny, and a little embarrassing too.

Father came over as well and ruffled my hair with his right hand. He rubbed so hard that he messed it all up.

"That's enough for today. We'll continue tomorrow."

"Okay."

I sat up and looked at the jumble of footprints I'd left all over the training ground. Some were straight, some curved, and some crooked.

"Whether it's what Father teaches me or what my sister-in-law teaches me, I want to learn it all. No, not want to-I have to!"

After dinner, my sister-in-law stood by the low stone wall around the yard, looking at the pale blue light shining on the university's distant spire.

"Rudeus will enroll next spring," she said.

I walked over to her. My sister-in-law was much taller than me, and I had to tilt my head back to see her face. Her expression was calm, but her fingers tapped lightly on her sword hilt.

"Are you going too?"

"Wherever he goes, I go."

She didn't look at me as she said it.

I thought about it and felt that was only natural. My sister-in-law was my brother's wife, so of course she would follow him wherever he went.

"What about me?" I asked.

My sister-in-law looked down at me.

"You keep practicing your swordsmanship. When you can beat me, you can go wherever you want."

"...Then I probably won't get to go anywhere for the rest of my life."

My sister-in-law couldn't hold back a laugh. Then she reached out and patted my head, even harder than Father had.

"Then take it slowly."

My brother would be going there next year. My sister-in-law would go too. That would leave Father, Aisha, Mother, and me at home.

I clenched my fists.

"I have to grow up quickly and get stronger quickly, so I can always stand beside my brother. I'll go to the university too."