The Blade and the Boy

Hibiki’s fingers closed around the dagger’s hilt. It was heavier than he expected, the metal cold against his palm. He had seen blades before. His father had trained with one every day. But he had never held one himself.

The elf watched him with unreadable eyes. “Stand up.”

He obeyed.

“Now, attack me.”

Hibiki blinked. “What?”

“Attack,” she repeated, as if speaking to a child. “Or do you think your enemies will wait until you’re ready?”

His grip tightened. She was right. The man who killed his parents hadn’t hesitated. If he wanted to survive, if he wanted revenge, he couldn’t hesitate either.

Hibiki lunged.

Before he could react, his wrist was caught in an iron grip.

A sharp twist. A surge of pain.

The dagger tumbled from his grasp.

In the same breath, the elf swept his legs out from under him, and he hit the dirt hard. The air rushed from his lungs.

She loomed over him, unimpressed. “Sloppy.”

Hibiki coughed, struggling to get up. But before he could recover, the elf kicked the dagger back toward him. “Again.”

His body screamed in protest, but he pushed himself up. He wouldn’t fail. Not again.

This time, he gritted his teeth and steadied his stance. He tried to mimic what he had seen in his father’s training. Lowering his center of gravity, gripping the dagger properly. Then, he lunged again.

The result was the same.

In an instant, the elf sidestepped, grabbed his arm, and flipped him onto his back.

Hibiki groaned. He was exhausted, bruised, humiliated. But the elf wasn’t done.

“Again.”

And so he did.

He attacked. He fell. He attacked. He fell.

Over and over, until his arms shook, his vision blurred, and the cold night air burned his lungs.

Yet every time he hit the ground, he pushed himself back up.

At some point, the pain stopped mattering.

At some point, he stopped thinking and just moved.

And then something changed.

On his next attack, when the elf reached to grab his wrist, he twisted away at the last second. Not much. Just enough to avoid her hold. Just enough to stay standing.

The elf paused, considering him for a long moment. Then, she smiled.

A real smile.

“That’s enough,” she said, stepping back.

Hibiki collapsed onto his knees, panting. His arms felt like they were made of lead, and his legs barely held him up. But through the exhaustion, something burned inside him.

A spark.

The elf crouched in front of him. “You learned something tonight.”

Hibiki swallowed hard. “What…?”

“That pain doesn’t matter,” she said. “That failure doesn’t matter. Only that you stand up again.”

She rose, stretching. “Rest. At dawn, we move.”

Hibiki barely heard her. His body ached, his mind swirled, but one thing was clear.

For the first time since his village burned, he felt alive.

And he was only just getting started.