How many times have I dreamed of the first day I fought my mother? Even now, I still dream about it on nights when I’m filled with anxiety. It’s an all-too-familiar nightmare at this point.
In it, I’m facing off against Red Mama. We both have our swords at the ready. We slowly close in on one another while looking for openings. Father is watching. White Mama and Blue Mama are watching. My two big sisters, my little brother, my little sisters, Leo, Dillo, Byt—the whole family is watching.
I know that I’ve trained more than enough for this day. Even though I’m aware that training isn’t everything, I believe that I have to overcome this obstacle, so I continue to swing my sword. All in order to beat Red Mama.
With that determination in my heart, I look down at my sword. It’s shorter than it usually is. My arms and legs are also smaller. They don’t belong to a young man; they look like those of a boy who is only twelve years of age. I can’t produce my usual strength. Even worse, I don’t remember why I swung my sword in the first place.
Then, suddenly, the sword is completely gone. Where did I forget it? I need to go look for it quickly. As those thoughts race through my mind, Red Mama swings her sword. My hand goes flying—
And I wake up.
Whenever I have this nightmare, I look down at the hand I lost during it. Cold sweat prickles all over my body in the darkness. Of course, my hand, now covered in wrinkles and calluses, is still there. I then reflect on the later parts of my life and calm myself down. When I was younger, Aisha would wake from where she was sleeping beside me and comfort me.
I have a lot of dreams like that, ones where I forget something important or ruin an important moment in my life. Father said that they’re manifestations of my anxieties.
That particular dream was obviously born from the last day Aisha and I spent together on the run, when I lost to Red Mama and lost my hand.
After White Mama healed me, Red Mama took me in her arms while I brooded. She didn’t waste her breath saying anything, like that I should get stronger.
But I felt that becoming stronger was important regardless. I had to. No, I needed to.
When I became an upperclassman at the Ranoa University of Magic, I believed that more powerfully than ever. I had pretty excellent grades there. I worked hard on my studies. However, I was never number one. That I couldn’t be Lucie went without saying, but I couldn’t even top Lara when it came to magic, despite how often she skipped class.
The other students were all very talented as well. The students attending the Ranoa University of Magic didn’t just go back and forth from their beds and classrooms with dumb looks on their faces. Many came from privileged environments where they were able to train their skills, even if they weren’t quite as blessed as the Greyrat family. The Magic City Sharia had also become quite affluent, thanks to my father and Sir Orsted, and so talented and ambitious people were constantly drawn there, regardless of background.
People I shouldn’t have lost against kept surpassing me. I thought I was doing my best after being pulled apart from Aisha, but there was only a single subject I was number one at. It really frustrated me. If Aisha had been in my position, she probably would’ve been number one across the board.
There was only one area where I was number one: swordplay, or just combat in general. I was never number one when it came to attack magic, but in a mock fight using combat magic, I was number one.
That’s why I thought to myself, This is my thing. I’m good at this…
I can see how you’d think I was being hasty and running away from the things I was bad at. But when I went to talk to Red Mama about it, she didn’t tell me not to run.
“Really? I was the same way!” she said, sounding delighted.
That’s right. She sounded delighted.
When I told her that I didn’t think I could excel at anything else, she developed a complicated look—annoyed, but also a little sad. Still, when I told her that I liked fighting and that I was so good I was the best at it, that made her happy.
I thought she must have been the same as me as a kid, but I learned later that she was even worse than I was! The gap between the things she excelled at and those she didn’t was quite wide. I suppose I have my father’s blood to thank for being exceptional at many things.
Anyway, when Red Mama told me that, I made up my mind. Since Aisha could do just about everything, I didn’t need to. I could just be her sword. I would always be at her hip, ready to be drawn when necessary. That’s the kind of person I wanted to be for her.
I was certain that would help support her, physically and mentally. If she could rely on me, that would help alleviate her anxiety. Just like how Red Mama helped Father.
So, I had to fight Red Mama and win. Maybe it didn’t have to be her specifically, but she was the strongest and most reliable swordfighter I knew.
I knew others, though. In the years that Aisha and I were apart, I got to know all kinds of people: the Sword God Gino; his wife, Nina; the Water God Reida; Lady Ghislaine, the Sword King working at the Asuran palace; Sir Sandor; and even Alec. I know these days I call him Idiotxander, but back then, he used to give me all kinds of advice and treat me like a little brother. I respected him as my master.
Whenever those strong fighters talked about Red Mama, they always described her with the nuance that she wasn’t someone they could easily beat. In terms of pure sword skills, she might not have been as skilled as those I mentioned a moment ago. But in actual combat, she was someone who could find their weak points and threaten their lives. It wasn’t that she was “good with a sword.” She was “strong.” So, I made her my objective. If I wanted to be recognized as a man, I would have to beat her.
I worked hard toward that goal, raised my raw strength, developed my own unique strategies, and refined my techniques.
My father said something after I graduated from the Ranoa Magic University and was about to start attending the Asura Royal Academy.
“You’re almost a man. Why not go and get Aisha now?” he asked.
Father acknowledged me in that moment, but I hadn’t acknowledged myself. Not yet.
That’s why I told him: “I’m not a man until I beat Red Mama. I can’t go to Aisha until then.”
Red Mama looked so satisfied when I said that, although Lara was clearly exasperated, and so were my little sisters. Sieg wore a face that screamed, Of course! He’d been heavily influenced by Alec before attending the royal academy, so he loved that kind of thing.
My father seemed worried, but after White Mama and Blue Mama talked to him, he relented with a nod.