CSWH Chapter 4: Training
I opened my eyes.
I had a feeling that it was about time for my turn, and when I opened my eyes to check, as I thought the previous match seemed like it was about to end.
One of the men collapsed, and the referee shouted out the name of the winner.
……though there wasn’t any audience, so there weren’t any cheers, the winner stood triumphantly.
As I observed the scene, my name, as well as the name of my opponent, were called out. I entered the arena.
Standing before my eyes was a large man.
On top of having muscles forged out of training that gave off an overwhelming presence, he was a big man that was one or two times my size.
I drew out my practice blade, a sword with a dulled edge.
Though his opponent was a young girl like myself, my opponent showed no signs of making light of me and similarly drew his sword.
……as an opponent, he wasn’t lacking at all.
Together with the referee’s voice commencing the match, I began to move.
In power, I was overwhelmingly disadvantaged.
It was clear just by looking at us.
In other words, if I were to take his sword head-on, I’d instantly be sent flying.
However, even if I simply let that fact intimidate me, I wouldn’t be able to do anything about it.
In any case, up until now I had continued training with my father, whose power far surpassed my own.
I had long learned that it was impossible for a girl like me to challenge a man through raw strength.
That being the case, what should I do?
……fight them with speed.
That too, was one way of dealing with it.
However, I used a different method.
As my opponent swung his sword downwards, I took up a stance as though I were going to receive his sword.
For a moment, a rather surprised expression crossed my opponent’s face, but it soon disappeared as he used all his strength to swing his sword.
Without a single sign of going easy on me, it was a swift and heavy sword.
I brought my sword forward, and with good timing, swung it.
……in order to redirect my opponent’s power.
As his sword flowed against mine, my opponent’s stance collapsed. Entering his bosom, I swung my sword to beat him down.
And then, I placed my sword on my opponent’s neck as he lay face-down upon the ground.
“……that’s it! The winner, Melly!!”
Together with the referee’s voice, I sheathed my sword.
Since mother passed away, it has already been 3 years.
Whether it has passed quickly or not, I don’t know.
But every day, I have been polishing my sword like this.