Swordsmanship with a Fated Enemy -2-
From my fingertips, I can feel Mihail's trembling. The faint quiver of her small hands vibrates between our overlapping palms.
"Follow my hand."
Her stiff movements trace a slow horizontal slash along my guidance.
Whoosh. Clean and crisp. I couldn't claim my way was the absolute right one, but in this moment, I etched into her the exact martial prowess Mihail had displayed in the novel. The skill that flustered an archbishop with a single stroke, that made the wind dance with the slightest motion.
I glanced at Mihail, who was following my lead so obediently, and let a compliment slip out. I'd expected her strong ego to resist, but she'd complied beautifully.
"Good."
I had no choice but to praise her. "Relax your shoulders more—no, not like you're chopping down, but ride the rhythm…"
Where had that twitchy wariness gone? Her once rigid, guarded demeanor had given way to an unexpectedly compliant Mihail. Maybe it was the Misa disguise, but her movements were far smoother now, easier to teach.
One flaw, though.
Shiver. She couldn't focus.
Her eyes squeezed shut tighter with every touch, not concentrating on the sword but trembling in fear. When my fingers brushed her wrist, her shoulders flinched; if I adjusted her stance a bit too firmly, her grip loosened as if she'd drop the blade any second.
Yes, just like the Young Lady clutching her rice bowl with Gomtang looming nearby—Mihail was shaking.
"Hey."
"…"
"Misa."
She let out a hurried breath, ignoring me entirely. Like someone deaf, she exhaled shakily, clenching and unclenching her fist around the sword hilt over and over.
I released her hand for a moment. She—no, he—seemed overwhelmed. We weren't close enough for me to push so hard; regretting my impatience, I carefully let go and drew a steady breath.
"Shall we call it here for today?"
"Pardon?"
"You haven't heard a word I've said."
"…Ah."
Mihail looked down at her trembling hands and sighed. I had no idea what was making her so frantic, but seeing those aspen-like shakes, I managed a wry smile.
"Let's stop for today."
"I'm sorry."
"No need. It happens to everyone."
"Still…"
I sat carefully under the tree's shade and beckoned her over. Better to rest and resume later. We'd gone two hours straight without a break, swinging that sword relentlessly—I figured that counted as solid instruction. Any normal person would've collapsed after two hours under a Sword Master's tutelage.
Come to think of it, I'm pretty high-value talent. Rolling a Sword Master for free? Mihail's connections suddenly seemed impressive.
Anyway, considering how much harder I'd worked her than her academy drudgery, her exhaustion made sense. Whatever was making her tremble felt mental. A long-overdue talk seemed in order—our first real alone time in ages, even if she was masked as Misa. If I could hear his worries, it'd be worth it. For a friend's sake, and for a better future for this possessor.
I spread my handkerchief from my breast pocket on the ground and patted the spot beside me.
"Misa."
"I can practice more…"
"Sit."
"I'm fine. More practice."
"Your speech is so stiff. Last time, you acted like you'd call me 'hey, you.'"
"Sorry…"
"Tch! Come sit. Rest is the best training sometimes."
"…"
Unable to refuse, Mihail sat beside me, academy uniform neatly adjusted, keeping a slight distance.
Still awkward, yeah.
I didn't expect our relationship to mend overnight. The emotional chasm was deep, the issues piled high. She disliked me. I disliked her.
I chuckled softly and looked up at the lush green canopy. Just gazing at nature opened my chest, drawing a bright smile.
"Pretty, right?"
I asked Mihail, eyes on the verdant leaves. Hamel had little to boast about beyond the wicked lady's estate and its stunning scenery. Oh, and the forest friends. I let out a hollow laugh and shared a trivial brag.
"Hamel's a backwater, but the air's great. Streams, mountains, cool breezes. Winter's brutal, though."
"…"
"Country life isn't so bad. I hated it at first."
Mihail clenched her fist and asked cautiously, "Why… live in Hamel?"
"Huh?"
"You lived in the capital. In a fancy mansion."
"Ah…"
I chuckled, plucked a flower, and answered her tricky question—something to occupy her fidgety hands.
"I got kicked out."
"…"
"My lady made a little mistake. Not so little, really—she must've been shocked."
"…"
Mihail balled her fists tighter. I couldn't read what that meant. Anger? Disgust at my brazenness? No clue.
Still.
"No grudges. None to hold. We messed up; ending it here is a mercy. You know the story, Misa—what we did wrong."
"…"
"Even if Mihail got mad, I'd have nothing to say."
"…All of it."
Mihail bowed her head. "Wasn't it because of Mihail?"
I hadn't expected that. The sharp question made me clamp my mouth shut, pondering deeply. Was she probing to tank her opinion of me, or just curious? Any answer felt like stepping on a landmine.
Cowardly.
She was disguised to extract info, but I wasn't playing that game. I moistened my lips and flashed an awkward smile.
"Yeah."
"…"
"Can't deny it. Happened because my colleague was too damn good."
"So you hate him?"
"Ah… Yeah, from the start. Too perfect—hated looking at him."
Mihail's face paled. Unfair, sure. Stubborn as hell, but no real wrongs, so I grinned playfully. "But I feel bad. We put him through hell, especially me."
"…"
"One thing, though. That's my regret."
I smiled bitterly, plucking edelweiss petals one by one. "He hated us too much."
"…"
"We tried our best… Once you're in someone's bad books, it's hard to claw out."
"Bad books…"
"I get it. I'm not trustworthy. Even I doubt myself sometimes…"
Still.
"Kinda disappointing."
Mihail's head drooped lower. Was it the face-to-face insults? She kept it down forever, then spoke with a shaky breath. "How did…"
"Hm?"
"How'd you end up serving Olivia?"
"Ah… The Young Lady?"
"Yes."
"Why ask?"
"She's the wicked woman. Bad rumors since childhood, and they were true. Seniors said she was demonic."
I nodded with a small laugh. Spot on.
"True. Stubborn, breaks what doesn't bend, led by emotion over reason—a wicked one."
"Knowing that, why stay?"
I smiled and told Mihail the honest truth. "Nowhere else to go."
"Pardon…?"
"That's the only place left. Bad rep or not, it's where I rest easiest, where my heart aligns best—with the Young Lady. Can't leave."
"What does that mean?"
"Dunno."
I chuckled, dodging. "Beats me."
"Like you said, twisted from the start. No idea why I like it."
I shook my head with a hollow laugh, smile lingering. It was genuine, after all.
"No clue myself."
Mihail pressed her lips tight. Surprised—not some forced circumstance, but her own choice. The boy from memory looked different; she bowed her head.
I offered Mihail a relatable reason. Too much Young Lady bashing; time for praise.
"But she's my lifesaver."
"Lifesaver?"
"Yeah. Nearly died young. Big incident—awkward saying it myself."
I pointed to my gut and smiled wryly. "Hurt like hell."
Mihail fell silent. I grinned sheepishly, dusted off, and stood to lighten the gloom. Too dark, and we'd both sink; rubbing my hungry belly, I tossed a question her way.
"Hey, Misa."
"Yes."
"Wanna grab food?"
"Food…?"
I smiled ambiguously, thinking of that place called Yuram. "Know a good spot."