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Chapter 67: Punch Yourself
🕑 Added 2024-11-22 13:30:01 +0000 UTCI had no choice but to put him down.
No, I didn’t kill him, but if I let him fall face-first again, he’d definitely break his nose. So, I did the only thing I could think of. As Raymond charged forward like a reckless bull, I stepped into his path and struck his chest with the pommel of my sword.
Using the momentum of his own charge against him, I knocked him backward. He hit the mat with a thud, thankfully not giving it a French kiss this time.
Good. I managed to save his nose.
But as he lay there, I couldn’t help but notice him breathing heavily. I didn’t push him that hard, did I?
Don’t tell me I broke a rib!
The training hall was utterly silent, all eyes fixed on Raymond. Some students wore shocked expressions, others exchanged awkward glances. No one said a word.
Not only did I just brutally beat up a junior, but I had lost my chance to be a respectable senior to everyone. Not only was I public enemy number one as Feyt, but I was also a class bully as Carine.
Truly, the worst outcome.
Quietly, I handed the wooden sword back to Mother and hurried to return to my seat next to Feyt. It wasn’t much, but sitting down felt like I could breathe again.
Mother clapped her hands twice. After waiting several awkward seconds, the training hall doors creaked open. A group of maids entered briskly, one of them being Eliza. She approached Raymond cautiously and examined his injuries.
“He’s fine,” Eliza announced. “Just minor scrapes and bruises.”
The words were meant to reassure, but they only made me feel worse.
“Take him to the clinic,” Mother said curtly, waving a hand.
The maids helped Raymond to his feet, though his legs wobbled dangerously. He glanced at me, Carine, with an expression that couldn’t be more clearer. Wrath.
I quickly shifted my gaze sideways, staring at anything but him.
A-Ah! The garden is looking fine today, haha! My, my, the roses are quite red today!
The soft click of the closing doors left the room quieter than ever.
I needed to apologize to that kid, or else it might ignite something I’d rather avoid.
The tension in the room lessened slightly, but not by much. Father, who had been uncharacteristically quiet during the whole ordeal, finally leaned toward Mother, his voice low.
“Reyna, you should be the one watching out for scandals.”
Mother turned her glare toward him. “He’s from the Aldreids. I trained his older sister before. They should know this is for his benefit.”
“If you say so…”
Mother turned her attention back to the students, who immediately straightened in their seats. “Anyone else who thinks they’ve mastered the basics?”
None dared to answer.
“No?” she said with a quiet smirk. “Good, let’s continue.”
The sound of chalk on the board marked the start of the next explanation, and I let out a quiet sigh of relief. At least for now, the spotlight had moved away from me.
Ah, wait, no. Some of the students definitely stole glances at me.
When will I get a break?
—
The lesson resumed, and with it, the usual sense of tense quietness in class.
Carine’s body, having already attended many of these classes, was already used to it. But it felt like a boulder was trying to squeeze the air out of Feyt each time he breathed.
How could this be an ideal training environment? How did Carine get used to this?!
Father began explaining the basics of the fundamentals while Mother wrote things down in excruciating detail on the blackboard. Footwork, stance, balance, blocks, etc. The list goes on.
Although the material really was just a repeat from before, both Mother and Father delved into deeper details each time we went back. I wondered why they never just sprawl everything out for us, but maybe that would overwhelm us too fast.
I absorbed Father’s explanation clearly, which was weird since listening was never Carine’s strong suit, so this was the first time I had actually learned something from an explanation instead of a demonstration.
Good job, dear ears.
Anyway, with the basics out of the way…
Time for the training montage.
—
First thing on the list, footwork.
Mother shouted strings of simple orders like “Forward! Back! Sidestep!” repeatedly, and anyone found out of the rhythm would be punished.
This was an easy task, since I could just follow the movements of the others with Carine, and Feyt’s ears made the orders easy to catch.
It also gave me a weird sense of déjà vu to that time I was learning how to walk.
Ah, good times.
—
Next up, stance.
We were all told to hold a proper stance as Mother and Father walked around, eyes out for any imperfections.
“Remember, hold your sword firm, don’t choke it.” Father’s booming voice followed him as he surveyed the room.
Mother remained silent, fixing the students’ poses with a wooden ruler.
Both of my bodies weren’t fixed, since our stance was pretty much alright.
I had the perfect muscle memory of it as Carine, and all I had to do for Feyt was copy Carine’s pose, which was easier than trying to act differently.
—
We trained on a few more things, and finally, Mother clapped her hands, signaling the end of the solo drills.
“Next up is blocking, so pair up!” Father commanded.
Both of my bodies froze. I dreaded this part.
Father looked at both of me and said, “Carine, Feyt, pair up. We’re ready to start the next lesson.”
““Y-Yes!”” I answered simultaneously, earning a raised eyebrow from Father.
I reluctantly turned as Feyt to face myself as Carine, our wooden swords raised and aimed at each other’s throats.
Every instinct screamed at me that this was stupid. My bodies felt stiff, my hands were sweating like I was gripping live snakes, and my brain? My brain was filing a formal protest.
I stood there as Feyt, staring at myself as Carine, my mind spiraling into existential dread. How was I supposed to fight myself?
How was I supposed to fight myself? What was the game plan here? Hold back? Go all out? Try to look convincing while not accidentally maiming my other face?
If any of you are thinking that this isn’t a big deal, I implore you to go ahead and try punching yourself in the face and see how it works out.
That’s right, you can’t punch your own face full-force… hopefully.
With a sigh, I straightened my stances and held the swords more firmly. At least this was just blocking drills and not an all-out spar. Fundamentals were doable.
Probably.
…
“Strike!” Father shouted.
““Ha!!”” the room roared as we struck our partner’s blade.
I swung as Feyt, landing a perfectly fine strike against Carine’s blade. Do you know how weird it is to look yourself dead in the eye while doing that? My grip wobbled a little from the sheer weirdness.
“Switch! Strike!”
““Ha!!””
This time, I struck Feyt’s block. Good form. Crisp movement. I was doing okay until
“Carine!” Mother shouted from the far end of the hall.
I froze mid-stance and turned toward her. “W-What is it, Mother?”
“Don’t go easy on others, especially him,” she said, her glare sharp enough to cut through stone. “Since when did you give preferential treatment?”
“Y-Yes, Mother!”
Mother let out a sigh before returning to observing the students, but I could tell she reserved special attention for both of me. Why though? What did I do wrong?
Well, fine. If I had to sell this, I’d sell it. No holding back. I stared at both pairs of my eyes, trying my best to push out the idea that the person in front of me was me.
Time to punch me in the face then.
And so the training dragged on. It was safe to say… I absolutely did a number on myself.
Carine, ever the prodigy, had the edge, naturally. I tried to push Feyt’s skills harder to match her, but the disparity was clear.
Every time I landed a strike as Carine, Feyt got sent reeling. I felt like a maniac with how I was torturing myself.
By the end, I’d been bonked, batted, and battered to the point that I genuinely felt sorry for myself.
Literally.
All this just to act convincing…
The things I do for myself…
Comments
crazybot
Reyna trying to draw them apart by having them hurt each other is kinda funny.
Aquarius2077
This was hilarious
