Tales of a Lost Sword 85

Episode 85 Fatal Green
“One, two! One, two! One, two!” shouts the instructor as he observes the students, his hands behind his back. A row of about ten students is gathered in a straight line in front of him, their weapons rising and falling in the air. The instructor walks among them, critiquing their practice.

“Halt!” the instructor orders. He turns around and inspects the row of ten bull’s eyes placed directly in front of each student’s line of sight. Some of them are completely torn apart, while others appear barely touched. Frowning, the instructor shakes his head as he groans with disappointment.

“This is already the second week of practice! You are the long-range group; you’re expected to be able to hit your targets with speed and precision!”

Recelo breathes heavily, his Doombringer limp in his hands, which he holds onto with a long metal chain. He stares down his own target. It has been splintered in two, with half of it still standing. Gathering his breath, Recelo glances down the row all the way to the end, where Midori is standing. Her target has not been touched at all.

The instructor slowly walks down the row of students, critiquing their attacks. Recelo continues to sneak several looks over in Midori’s direction.

The green-haired girl bites her lip, as she gathers energy to summon her light bow. Finally, she manages to compress the energy into the shape of a bow. She fires, but before the arrow even leaves the bow, the entire thing collapses into thin air. Narrowing her eyes impatiently, Midori can only attempt to hold back the tears of frustration.

Recelo quickly looks back as the instructor stops by in front of him. “Number Four. Your attacking ability is certainly strong, but your precision is not. Your attacks are very inconsistent, and more often than not, they miss rather than make their mark. You will need to practice more if you hope to make it as a Fatalist.”

“Yes, sir!” responds Recelo.

Recelo sighs, brushing the sweat off his forehead. He glares up at the sun, which is nearly on its way down for the day. ‘I sure have come a long way…’

The angry tone of the instructor’s voice suddenly catches Recelo’s attention. He looks down the line, where the instructor is now scolding Midori.

“You cannot even use your weapon correctly, Number Ten?!” the instructor howls. “Your target is completely untouched! How do you expect to be useful, much less a Fatalist if you cannot even use your weapon?”

“I’m sorry, Instructor!” Midori mumbles, not making eye contact.

Sighing, the instructor rubs his head, as he ponders what to do with Midori. He glares at the completely unmarked target in front of her. “We’ve already invested so much energy into breaking your soul and turning you into a Fatalist… Perhaps we should talk about this later.”

“Yes, sir!” answers Midori promptly.

Turning his attention back to the others, the instructor claps his hands. “All right, everyone! Lesson’s over for today! You may return to your dorms until dinnertime is called.”

As the students celebrate the early dismissal by packing their things, the instructor turns to Midori. “All right, follow me to my office, Midori.”

“Yes!” replies Midori, bowing slightly.

While Recelo wraps a protective cloth around his Doombringer, he stares at the two leaving together. A slight frown crosses his face. Without warning, a dark-skinned boy hops directly in front of Recelo.

“How ya doing, Recelo?” he screams. “Hey, listen, I just got the latest Katy South Perry album! Wanna listen to it later?”

“D-Damon!” Recelo cries, startled. He quickly tries to brush him off. “Yeah, maybe later…”

“How about now?!” Damon presses.

“No,” replies Recelo distractedly. With a heave, he hoists his Doombringer onto his back.

“Aw, come on!” Damon continues. “It’s not like I’m asking you on a date or something so repulsive you don’t wanna do it with me. It’s just two dudes listening to a chick singing love songs! What’s so wrong with that?”

Recelo sighs as he begins walking away. Damon continues to chase after him. “Get out of the way, Treeface!” Recelo snarls, beginning to grow agitated.

Damon’s face immediately begins to grow tomato red. “T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-Terrible man you are, Recelo, for calling me Treeface!”

Without another word, Recelo disappears away from the practice field, his eyes darkened slightly.

“Now I know how hard you begged us to let you in, but even you have to admit, Lady Midori, that you can’t be of any use to us if you cannot fight,” the instructor’s voice rings out from behind the door. “Admittedly your weapon is much harder to control than the others, but even so…”

“I understand,” Midori replies softly.

The instructor sighs wearily. “You may be the daughter of the late Duke of Zipangu, but we cannot keep making exceptions for you. His Majesty expects all his Fatalists to be able to fight at an extremely high level.”

“It is precisely because my father was plotting against the former King Grendel that he was killed in jealousy! I support His Majesty Arai, I have a reason to fight! Is that not enough?”

“I-I understand! But…” the instructor retorts weakly. Eventually, he sighs. “Fine, we’ll let you stay on for a while longer, but please know that we cannot support you for very long unless you start to show some results… Even His Majesty will not protect you if you cannot show any improvement. So, please practice hard and show us some results.”

“Very well.”

Recelo slips out of sight of the doorway into a narrow corner under a staircase, peering out from the gloom within with narrowed eyes. Midori exits the instructor’s office, her green eyes ablaze even in the dim lighting. Slamming the door shut a bit forcefully behind her, she stomps away down the hall.

“Daughter of the late Duke of Zipangu, huh…?” Recelo whispers to himself.

The dark of night looms like a blanket over the world. A few stars twinkle faintly in the blank slate of the sky, their light dimmed against the brightness of a luminous full moon. Crickets chirp from somewhere far away as well as somewhere nearby, their persistent clamoring the only noise disturbing the quiet night.

A soft rustling sounds as a figure dressed in black slips out of the Fatalists’ castle towards a nest of evergreens at the bottom of the mountainside. Her bright green hair glimmers in the silvery moonlight.

With a sigh that materializes momentarily in the frosty midnight air, Midori raises her hands, taking aim at a point some distance away. Biting her lip, she slowly channels energy into her hands, forming a golden bow of light.

Her eyes furrowed with intense focus, she lets loose an arrow from the light bow. It shrieks like a bird of prey, before crashing into the trunk of a tree far in the distance.

Eyes widening slightly, Midori lets out a soft yelp of excitement. “I did it!” she cries. Rushing towards the spot her arrow had hit, she inspects the tiny mark left in the tree’s trunk. It appears that a small burn has pierced the tree’s tough bark.

“Not enough power yet, though…” she mutters to herself, frowning at the tiny black mark.

Midori stares up at the night sky, spotless except for a light fog and the typical heavenly bodies. She shudders as she stares into its dark black depths. ‘I will avenge my father…no matter what it takes!’

At once, she resumes her training. She tugs back on her light bow, letting fly another golden arrow. The arrow sings through the air, before slamming into another tree, this time leaving a much more obvious mark. The tree smokes slightly where the arrow struck it, and a clear indentation can be seen.

‘I will master this bow…’

“One, two! One, two! One, two!” the instructor shouts, the bright sun glaring down upon him and the group of ten long-range students. “All right! Everyone ready? Today is the final test. I expect you all to pass this, or else it’s the end of the line for you! So no pressure!”

Recelo frowns, his Doombringer clutched in his hands. He looks down the line at Midori, whose face is fathomless. Her bright green eyes merely gaze forward, locked onto the bull’s eye target in front of her.

“Everyone ready?” the instructor asks again. “Your attacks will be judged on their damage, accuracy, and precision! You may fire away when ready!”

Sighing, Recelo clenches his hands more tightly against his metal chain, his Doombringer dangling at the end. He throws his sword into the air, spinning the chain like a lasso. ‘Here goes nothing!’ Recelo thinks, clenching his eyes shut tightly.

But before he can even hurl his Doombringer forward, a loud gasp runs through the crowd. Recelo fumbles wildly for a moment, nearly throwing his sword off course. As he regains control of his Doombringer, he manages to catch just in time a glimpse of a massive golden arrow singing through the air out of Midori’s hands.

The arrow flies at breakneck speed towards the bull’s eye target, smashing through it and obliterating it in an instant. A chorus of applause greets Midori as she lowers her hands, allowing her light bow to disappear into the air. A faint smirk of satisfaction is on her face.

“Hey! People! Pay attention to your own targets!” the instructor scolds, as cheers erupt for Midori’s impressive attack.

Recelo smiles faintly to himself, as he hurls his Doombringer once again into the air. “All right! Let’s do this then!”
—END EIGHTY-FIVE—
Because everyone likes multi-part flashbacks.