The Greyrat Children
A SERIES OF clacks rang out. The bright tap of wood hitting wood intermingled with the sound of breathing.
“Oof!”
“Hwup!”
In the garden of the Greyrat house, two youths faced each other, each with a wooden sword in hand. One was a girl with chestnut brown hair. She swung with surprising ferocity for her age, making full use of her angular momentum, her cape billowing around her. Her left hand, the one not gripping the sword, was of note. It was slightly open, and now and then she used it to slap the air. When she did this, she bounced away like a ball hitting a wall, making it impossible to predict how she would move. She approached, swerving from side to side, occasionally shifting up and down, and got one—two good hits on her opponent. Her ever-changing movements were unpredictable yet graceful and beautiful.
Her opponent, a boy with red hair, was dressed in a slightly grubby practice uniform. He resolutely gripped his sword. Compared to the girl, his movements were a little stiff. He was trying to fend her off with only his sword rather than using magic like her. He kept his feet planted firmly on the ground, steady and powerful as he parried the girl, then struck back bravely. His moves imitated Sword God style: a basic, straightforward technique. He also struck faster than the girl. Despite this, he never hit her. Sometimes she dodged, sometimes she parried then hit back, smartly taking advantage of a critical opening.
“That’s one point to me.”
“Not yet, it isn’t!” Despite the obvious difference in their skill, the boy was undaunted and ran at the girl again.
Nearby, three other children were watching, most with their eyes glazed over. A girl with blue hair and a boy with green hair sat side by side accompanied by a blond boy, who stood beside them. There was also a big white dog. The blue-haired girl had her face buried in its fur and was dozing off. She didn’t seem interested in the fight.
The chestnut-haired girl and the redheaded boy faced off for a while, until the girl lunged forward.
“Yah!” she shouted fiercely, bringing her wooden sword straight down on the boy’s forehead. There was a satisfying thunk.
“Yooooow!” The boy went down, rolling around on the ground in pain as bright blood trickled from the split in his forehead down to his chin.
“Oh no, sorry, that was a clean hit.” The girl rushed over to him then, without another word, laid a hand over his forehead. Green light blossomed, and the wound closed.
“Ahhh,” the boy sighed, accepting the healing magic without protest. He flopped down on the ground. “I’m still no match for you, Lucie.”
“What did you expect?” the girl replied. “You’re only ten, Arus.”
“That’s only three years younger…”
“Three years is plenty. You wouldn’t lose to Sieg, would you?”
This was Lucie and Arus. Since getting back from Millis, Arus had thrown himself into his sword practice with even more intensity than before. Eris taught swordcraft to all the children, but ever since Arus had gotten the itch to fight, she’d been bursting with pride and taken great pains to teach him everything she knew. Arus had an abundance of talent, so he received special attention. He absorbed everything Eris taught him and was well on his way to becoming a fully-fledged swordsman—but nothing short of that felt good enough to him. That was why Arus had started getting the kids together for secret training sessions like this one.
Eris would probably have said that his swing needed more work before he started thinking about combat experience, but he was her boy—he found just swinging his sword boring and wanted a partner. Eris had been the same way when she was his age, so it was only natural.
“Hey, Lucie,” said Arus, “you’re super good at that thing where you shoot wind out of your hand to spin around. Did White Mama teach you?”
“Nuh-uh. I heard Dada used to do it, so I taught it to myself.”
“Whoa. You think Dada fights like that too?”
“Probably not now. He said it was when he was a kid.”
“You think I should try it too?”
“Hmm,” Lucie pondered. “I think you’d be better off developing your Sword God technique. What I did wouldn’t be powerful enough in a serious fight with real swords. I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t have sword practice. I mean, I’m a magician.”
“But it’s so cool. Lucie’s magic swordcraft! Clive was impressed as well, you know.”
“Mm…” Lucie seemed to brush it off, but she glanced furtively at the blond boy over with the observer, who was chatting good-naturedly with Sieg on the ground beside him.
His name was Clive. He was also a relative, so from time to time he tagged along on the secret kids-only training sessions. That was why Lucie wore her favorite cape over her uniform even though they were training, and why she’d used magic to set it fluttering rather than concentrating on her sword. She’d wanted to look like a wind fairy—a sylph, one of the four great spirits from a fairytale her father had told her long ago. He said the beautiful sylph had green hair and danced through the air, always garbed in the wind.
When Lucie talked to her friends at school, they said they’d never heard of anything like that. When she asked her teachers they didn’t know anything either. She’d scoured the library but found no mention of the name. Until that moment, she’d believed the sylph was real. It turned out the sylph was just as imaginary as Cheddar Man—what a shock! All the same, Lucie still adored wind fairies, and she dreamed of the boy she liked seeing her that way.