The Grand Games for Shooting

Cera clutched her damaged back as she staggered out of the hut. She was still able to walk despite the minor injuries, but the emotional toll was more painful. She was on the front lines of an impending conflict. Although she had no knowledge of battle, she pictured it as malicious intent emanating from every side. Archers and bombs, perhaps. Danger would leap in and surround her until nothing remained, no matter what shape it took.

She was surprisingly not afraid when she considered it objectively. Carmine was correct, as much as she hated to accept it. She had already lost one life. What was left for her to lose?

She assumed that she, the newcomer, was the most disposable of all his people. She groaned in frustration.

Cy walked out of his own hut, looking happier than she had ever seen him, and remarked, "Easy there." As he led her back to their shared hut, he inquired, "So, what's the news?"

Cera looked at him, attempting to find some indication of his spiritual age, despite her scathing demeanor. Perhaps he had a cough or a persistent hunch to his shoulders?

However, Cy merely squinted at her, as he often does. “Did he not tell you?”

"Told me what?" she inquired naively.

"I am an elderly crone."

Cera jokingly said, "You said it, not me."

He combed his bouncy hair with an impatient palm. If he learned a little discretion, would it kill him? He doesn't want to share those secrets.

She gave a shrug.

How much more did he tell you?

"Oh, not much," Cera sarcastically said. "Just assign me to lead your war effort." She gave a sneer.

Cy grabbed her by the shoulders and halted his progress. As he fannied her face with his hot breath, he shouted, "What?"

All of a sudden, she was tired of the whole thing. "Talk to him about it if you have an issue with it. I was kicked in the back by him for even asking him a question.

Ignoring her, Cy stopped his stroll to pace irately outside his hut. "You're not qualified for the position. At last, that old nut has lost it.

"Look, then, talk him out of it. I don't want to learn how to manage your foolish fires. After all, they're the reason I died on Terra," Cera remarked sourly. "Telling a samurai to use his own suicide sword is like that."

"What were you saying?" Cy turned pale. He didn't hold off till she responded. "You were burned to death? However, that implies...

"I don't give a damn about your foolish ideas or you and your sage!"

"I'll train you," Cy declared abruptly. "Now. Hurry up.

He had taken hold of her arm and was dragging her toward the rear of his hut before she could respond. When she saw the verdant acre extending from one side of the clearing to the other, the argument she was making died on her lips. The majority of Cy's practice was in the middle, marked by a patch of singed, tramped soil.

"How long did he say we had?"

Over half of the eight days are spent traveling and assembling allies, she stated glumly. Since there wasn't much else in this world for her to do, Cera had all but accepted the task.

Cy shot a fireball above her head that struck a tree and ignited it as he said, "Well, cheer up." He waved his hand to extinguish the blaze. The majority of Terrans would view being able to toss fire as a privilege, you know. Bucket lists, adventure, and all that "But they've probably all done it before in a past life or something," he said, rolling his eyes and speaking mainly to himself.

Even on Terra, what? Startled, Cera inquired.

What do you suppose the old masters who are concealed in marshes and mountains accomplish? In their different ways, they are all very vibrant. Cy's eyes took on an odd expression, and he appeared to pause for a second to clear his head.

Cera waited with an upset stomach from skipping breakfast, but she didn't want to mention it.

In any case, cup this fire in your palms as your first task. Theoretically, it won't harm you," he added, extending his hands.

She approached the fire with caution, experiencing a brief panic that she ascribed to her recent tragedy. However, she felt a unique warmth that calmed her when she brought her palms to his. Even her hunger was satisfied, and the pain in her back stopped. She had the impression that an old friend had materialized, or that her departed mother was embracing her.

Cy withdrew his hands, leaving the flames cupped in Cera's, and she gasped.

"Keep that feeling in mind," he urged. You must replicate that on your own, whenever and whenever you choose. in the midst of combat, while you're battling hopelessness, etc. To be able to summon that feeling when you need it, keep it strong within of you.

She gave a sympathetic nod.

"You're merely a foolish young girl. Cy murmured abruptly, "I can't believe Carmine has become so soft-headed that he's put you in charge."

"What were you saying?" Unbelieving what she was hearing, Cera screamed. What right did he have to offend her in that way? In her palms, the flames flickered. Then, rather than vanishing as she had expected, the warm sensation giving way to rage, the flames exploded out of her palms and fell to the floor. A gust of wind blew through and they fanned out onto the field.

Her instinct was to curl into a fetal position and cry. As she was about to do so, she noticed that Cy had put out the fire, his face unreadable.

"Don't you feel a great deal of fear?" In a quiet voice, Cy inquired. He switched his weight between the two legs.

She didn't respond.

That was good, however. Flame types are readily agitated, as you can see. That applies to you, Carmine, Perla, and me. We are explosive. It's not particularly enjoyable," Cy sighed.

Cera's eyebrow went up. In a same breath, he called her the same thing after realizing how prickly he was. She was unsure about her feelings toward that.

However, rage is a powerful source of firepower that goes beyond the cozy sensation that flames inherently provide. "And there's just a thin layer of calm hiding a constant irritation because our lives are full of enough annoying incidents," Cy remarked wryly. "During practice, don't be scared to have a few tantrums. Nothing about it can be simply disproved.

"Oh," he said, interrupting. "First, I should show you how to put out the fire. It could ease the anxiety.

Cera wanted to give a nasty reply, but she controlled herself and quickly nodded.

"You simply do the hand motion while mentally sending the instruction. It need not be joyful or furious. Simply think, "Go now," or something similar. The idea won't even need to be expressed verbally once you're proficient at it. It will simply be instinctual.

He led her hand through a cut that went downhill. Since she was a beginner, he advised her to continue using the entire hand even if the action might be reduced to just one finger. She started by practicing on a tiny flame and gradually advanced to putting out flames as large as the one she had just unleashed.

Cy said, "We can have lunch." You must be starving. After dark tonight, we can return here to rehearse.

"Won't enemies be drawn to the fire?" With suspicion, Cera inquired.

Cy chuckled. "Ce-ra, the fight won't last for days. Take a moment to relax.

"My name is not that!"

How could he be so casual about war, she wondered? Then she recalled that, like her father and Mya, he had lived a full life on Terra and recalled everything. The bittersweet thought of them made her heart tighten.

"How did yours go?" As they continued down the same path as the previous day, she couldn't resist asking.

"What?" He gave her a quick glance while looking around for any villagers that might be passing.

"Your former existence."

Before his legs started to move again, Cy froze for a whole second. He gave her a snarling look and pushed aside a tree branch that was far away.

Cera urged, "Come on." Being an anxious middle schooler with books for friends can't get any worse. I actually didn't have the opportunity to do anything at all. The final few sentences caused her voice to break.

Cy's face was unintelligible. Cera was starting to recall how long the trail was as they passed more bushes and trees when he eventually said, "It wasn't pretty."

She waited, feeling that there was more to come.

"Who do you think I was, first of all?"

Cera gave a hopeless shrug. She didn't know him well enough yet, and the inquiry was too general. "Beats me." Judging on your snobbishness, you're a daimyo from feudal Japan? Or a supermodel—you too are conceited.

Ignoring her, Cy continued walking forward. Cera concluded that wasn't the best course of action. She would need to be extra careful when she took the lead in a week.

Cera convinced them that sharing would help them feel less burdened. "Please?"

Cy sighed. "It's okay if it makes you stop talking about it."

Cera nearly cheered in expectation, but she knew that would be interpreted incorrectly.

With a tone as composed as if he were talking about the weather, Cy remarked, "I was among the first women to win The Grand Games for shooting."

"But that's incredible!" Cera looked at him with fresh admiration and erupted in real emotion.

"What? No mocking remarks regarding my gender? Or about me now being a boy of twelve?” Cy inquired cautiously.

"Not a single one!" Cera gave a headshake. "All of this must be related to the reincarnation business." She hesitated. "If you like girls now, would that make you a lesbian?"

"Stupid!" he yelled. No, it wouldn't. He answered quickly, "And I don't like anybody, girl or boy," before hurriedly leaving her and entering Perla's restaurant.

Cera laughed to herself and went with him.