After the Academy Hours Ended. Sayaka went to Greff's Shop
"Alright," Greff said, tossing a thick leather-wrapped sword hilt at her, "first lesson. Drop that pride of yours."
Sayaka caught the hilt with both hands, wobbling under its weight. Her knees buckled slightly as she adjusted her stance. "This isn't a wooden training sword, is it?"
"Course not," Greff smirked, arms crossed. "That's a Fake Sword Replica—no blade, just a condensed alloy rod. Feels like a sword. Hits like a sword. Hurts like one too."
Sayaka stared at it. The "replica" probably weighed more than her entire backpack.
"You said we were starting light…"
"This is light."
"...I hate you already."
"Good. Then we're making progress."
The backyard behind Greff's shop wasn't glamorous—just a dirt square with a few target dummies, a couple of chipped logs, and a rack of cracked weapons. But it was private. And quiet. A place for failure.
Sayaka stood before the wooden dummy, her hands tight on the blunt weapon. Her breath steamed in the cold morning air.
This time, I won't cry. Even if I fall. I asked for this.
Greff barked, "Let me see your stance!"
Sayaka tried recalling the posture from class—feet shoulder-width apart, front foot leading, blade raised at shoulder height.
Greff snorted. "That's what I expected. Academy formality. Looks pretty, but it's useless in a real fight."
Sayaka blinked. "Then… how should I—"
Before she finished, Greff was behind her. He grabbed her wrists, adjusting the angle. His calloused hands pushed her arms slightly inward, adjusted her knees, and then stepped back.
"There. Now you're in a real stance. Not elegant. Just effective."
It's so awkward… but I feel more stable…
"Now hit the dummy. With intent."
Sayaka gritted her teeth. She swung.
CLANG!
The replica hit the target's shoulder—and rebounded instantly. Her arms trembled from the shock.
"Ow!"
Greff didn't flinch. "Again."
"But—"
"Again."
She grunted and tried again. And again. And again.
By the tenth swing, her muscles screamed. Sweat beaded at her temple. Her palms ached from the impact.
Yet…
I'm still standing.
Her mind flickered back to the academy—to the jeers, the bruises, the second trial's disappointment.
No more crawling. I have a sword. I have hands. That's enough for now.
Greff tossed her a cloth. "Rest For Now. Let's continue Tomorrow."
She sat on a nearby stump, panting. The cold wind bit into her sweat-soaked uniform.
Greff crouched beside her, pulling out a flask of water.
"You're not the first who came here broken," he said quietly.
Sayaka accepted the flask, drinking slowly.
"But you're the first who came without any power—just sheer stubbornness. That's rare. And it's dangerous too. Because the weak who refuse to break… eventually shatter something else instead."
Sayaka looked up. "That sounds like a compliment and a threat."
"Good. You're learning."
She let her gaze drift upward. The clouds passed lazily above the city spires. Far beyond them, hunters trained in polished halls and royal sparring rooms. But her battlefield was this dirt patch. Her weapon, a sword that refused to speak.
"I'll keep training," she said. "Even if it takes months… or years."
Greff chuckled. "I don't train for years. You've got one weeks until your first Hunter Selection exam. Let's see how far you can go by then."
Sayaka swallowed.
One weeks…? This is going to be hell.
Still, she smiled faintly. The kind of smile that came only after pain, humiliation, and a dozen failed swings.
But this time, I'm not alone. I'm not waiting for a miracle. I'm making one.