I’d gone over multiple possibilities in my mind, but this was completely unexpected. Regardless, I was delighted.
Now that I thought of it, I’d never had a chance to spar with Mewi. I didn’t teach her at home, and I didn’t show up every day to her classes at the magic institute.
When it came to sword and magic, Mewi was lagging behind a bit compared to the other four students Ficelle had first taught. This was only for right now, of course. Still, to give my current opinion, it would be hard for her to spar unless she at least had Lumite’s level of fundamentals.
“Ficelle, do you mind?” I asked.
“Go ahead. Don’t hold back—beat her black and blue.”
“I’m not gonna go that far...”
It seemed my concerns were unfounded. Maybe I was being overprotective. Ficelle wasn’t opposed to it at all, though I definitely wasn’t going to do as she suggested. To be perfectly honest, I was very interested in Mewi’s current level. I could tell some things just by watching, but actually crossing blades spoke volumes.
There wasn’t any space to swing a sword around at home. Once school was over, it was her private time too, so I was somewhat hesitant to invite her to go outside just to spar. I wanted her to be able to relax at home. After all, I wasn’t trying to immerse her in a life of swordsmanship.
“I’ll be in your care...” Mewi said.
“Mm, likewise.”
And so, with Ficelle’s permission, we faced each other and bowed. I was uncharacteristically very excited. It felt a little different from checking on a pupil’s progress. Mewi and I weren’t related by blood, but she was still my daughter. My level of interest in her was way beyond what I felt for the others. I naturally had no intention of losing to her, but I wanted to savor her swordsmanship as much as I could. This was definitely a rare opportunity.
And so, though I was deeply moved by this chance to spar with her, I left my feelings there and locked my focus onto the present moment.
“Hah!”
After we separated several paces, Mewi took a short breath and charged right in. Considering her age and experience, it was a pretty sharp lunge.
“Hup.”
“Gh!”
However, there was no way this amateur attack would catch me. I parried her thrust, took half a step to the side, and brought a diagonal slash down at her—I was holding back, of course.
Mewi quickly reacted and blocked. The pleasant clack of wood striking wood resounded in the air. Against Henblitz, it would’ve been more of a THUNK. It was still too early for her to be able to put such strength behind her blows.
“Hyup.”
“Grrr...!”
It was my turn to go on the offensive. I swung at a speed that was in no way slow to Mewi, but I kept it at a level that was possible for her to follow. Thinking back on it, she’d used her fast reflexes to dodge Cindy’s attacks. I didn’t believe Cindy had been holding back either, so it was possible Mewi could do pretty well against others her age.
In that case, maybe it would be better to slowly ramp up the pressure. That said, misreading how much to hold back and overwhelming her could suddenly destroy her motivation. I couldn’t be obvious about it—I had to subtly adjust to an appropriate level for the situation, which was pretty hard from an instructor’s perspective. Lowering the difficulty too much could obstruct a student’s growth, but going too far the other way could hamper any desire to improve.
On the other hand, it was impossible to get better as a swordsman without experiencing failure. The same probably applied to magic. Only a rare genius was capable of running through life always standing at the top. Unfortunately, Mewi wasn’t one such genius. Still, I felt like it wasn’t quite right to make her suffer a clear defeat here. Being a teacher’s a hard job.
“Hmph!”
“Whoa there.”
I can’t sink too deep into thought while sparring. I was reminded of this after Mewi blocked a few of my strikes and readied herself to counterattack.
Crap, I got too caught up in my mind. It dulled my blade. Things were definitely different from back in the dojo or at the order’s office.
“Good instincts,” I said. “You should always be thinking of the next step.”
Mewi unleashed a series of slashes. I held my wooden sword in front of me at about waist level and blocked using the base of the blade. Mewi steeled herself and thrust forward again, stepped in, and slashed horizontally. Her strike was somewhat crude, and her lower body wasn’t quite keeping up, but she still kept her feet splendidly planted on the ground without letting the momentum carry her away.
Mewi didn’t believe a single strike would be enough to bring me down—that was why she’d chosen a chain of attacks. A decision worth praising. At the risk of sounding condescending, it was absolutely impossible to win against a stronger opponent if you hesitated.
“Shyah!”
“That’s the spirit. Don’t hold back.”
I dodged the slash from the side, and she immediately shifted into a downward strike. I couldn’t see the slightest hesitation in her eyes about what she would do if she actually hit me. She was putting all her strength behind her attacks.
This was also the right mindset, and I was glad to see it. I interpreted this as a trust in me that surpassed any form of concern. I didn’t know whether she was conscious of it, but in a match between swordsmen, it was emotionally moving for an instructor to have their students believe this.
And there was indeed no need for her to hold back—I was ready to receive the full brunt of her techniques. I had the strength to handle it, and I prayed that my will was conveyed to her through my sword. I was sure this was the type of thing that couldn’t be properly expressed in words.