“Let’s start from the top. Raise your blades, shoulder level, hips facing me, straight torso, and on my mark – One. Good. Two. Good. Three. I can see some of you are getting tired, shall we take a break?”

It had been just over an hour since the sword-fighting lesson had started, and none of the 15 people, me included, present in the small dojo looked worn out enough to justify a break, but we did as we were told, following the order of our teacher Simon.

“Do you wanna do some sparing after the class?” A short girl with short black hair asked, as she approached me.

“Yeah, sure, Jen.” I replied, as I reached into my bag (which I would have to carry home the old-fashioned way, having run out of MP for my holding void) to grab my water bottle. “Something tells me that’s going to happen fairly soon.” I added, nodding in the direction of our teacher.

Simon was currently checking something on his phone, as he had done several times this evening already. He was a tall and broad man, almost 200cm in height, and weighing likely as many kilos. Although his speciality was great swords, for the purposes of our classes he demonstrated all the movements that we had to memorise with a short blade, which looked as out of place in his hands as his phone and the colourful charms attached to it did.

“Umm, Simon, should we practice amongst ourselves to stay warmed up?” One of the other students, a tall man with messy curly hair spoke up. He was one of the most advanced students in my class, and one of the only people who’d dare disturb our teacher while he was doing whatever it was he was doing on his phone.

“Yes,” Simon hastily raised his eyes from de device in his hand, glancing around the room. “You know what, those of you who want to can go home. Free training for everyone else.”

“Told you.” I said to Jenifer before putting down my water bottle.

“That’s not like him.” She replied as she led us to a free corner of the dojo.

Several of the students did follow our teacher’s former words and packed up their things. Others, much like Jen and I, formed pairs or small groups to practice a little bit more. Our teacher had long since returned his full attention to his phone.

“Ready?” Jen asked.

I gestured for her to come at me, lifting my blade in a guard. She nodded. The curved sabre in her hand duplicated itself. Holding one weapon in each hand, she took a few steps toward me, mimicking the position we were rehearsing earlier as a group.

I blocked her attack, then took a step backwards. We both repeated the process until we got to the edge of the room, where we switched roles. I lifted my blade upwards, ignoring that weird sensation in my arms that seemed to tell me that I could do more than just these basic steps, and hit Jen’s dual blades.

“Are you sure you should be holding it with two hands?” Jen asked, after a few more practice series.

“I don’t when I spar, it’s just for the exercise.”

“I know, that’s why I’m asking. Do you wanna try that same downwards strike with one hand?”

“It’s actually super uncomfortable to hold it in that position with one hand.” I replied.

I knew these classes were meant to teach us proper technique and whatnot, but sometimes I felt they weren’t tailored enough to my style of fighting. Unfortunately, more specialised classes were reserved for those who had a class, or at least good skills, related to blade-wielding. Which was far from being my case.

“Can I try?” Jen asked, gesturing towards my sword.

“Yeah, sure.”

She merged her dual sabres into one once more, before putting it into its designated sheath at her belt. Holding my own weapon by the blade, I presented the handle to her.

“How do you ... balance this thing?” She asked as she swung my katana around a few times.

“It is easier with one hand.” I replied, unsure of what she meant.

Maybe it was just a question of habit, and struggling to switch between weapons, but Jen was more advanced than me in this domain. Plus, my weapon was the most balanced and comfortable sword I’ve ever held in this class, as Simon had given me a few different kinds of swords to practice with before letting me use my own during lessons.

“Ah-” Jen suddenly exclaimed, dropping my sword to the floor.

“What’s wrong?” I hastily asked.

She was clenching her left wrist, the one that had held the blade, with her other hand, with a pained expression painted on her face.

“Simon!” One of the other students, having noticed the scene, called out.

“Cramp…” Jen managed to mumble as tears formed at the corners of her eyes. “Horrible cramp …”

“What’s going on?” Simon rushed towards us, abandoning his phone behind.

“She’s got really bad cramp.” I explained, leavening him some space to examine Jen’s wrist.

“Hmmm.” Simon kneeled on the floor, and gently took Jen’s hand in his.

A blue cloud enveloped her hand, and soon Jen’s expression returned to normal.

“Thank you.” She said, as she clenched and unclenched her hand. “I’ve never had a cramp this bad in my entire life.”

“We’ll go more wrist mobility exercises next time.” Our teacher replied as he got up. Then, he looked around the room once more, before saying: “I think it’s time to head home, between how late it is, and the cold, I don’t want any more injuries.”

Those few students that had formed a small group complained, but everyone else headed towards the side of the room where our things were laid-out and started packing up.

“Are you alright?” I asked Jen, after catching up with her, having picked up my sword.

“I think your wakizashi doesn’t like me very much.” She joked as started layering on her ‘outdoors’ clothes.

“I’ll make sure to have a talk with her about that.” I joked in return, as I too began changing into my winter attire.

As I arrived at the bus stop, after leaving the dojo, I decided that 23 minutes was too long of a wait, and headed home by foot.

I came to regret that decision very quickly as wet snowflakes began falling from the dark skies above.

“It’s too early for this.” I mumbled under my breath, pulling the hood of my jacket over my head.

My only saving grace was the fact that the sword that was half-poking out of my gym bag was warm to the touch, and brought some semblance of cosiness to this otherwise grim walk.

The cold reminded me of Canada, where I had spent all but a few hours which I was sure to never forget. I wondered how Cain was doing, now that he was amongst his family. He was probably doing well, considering that he was practically unkillable and very much overpowered. Plus, the winter solstice was slowly coming up, which meant that there would be a lot of festivities, and opportunities to spend a great time with family; family whom Cain was now surrounded with.

From what I remembered from the book, the winter solstice, or the longest night, was the equivalent of a combination of Christmas and New Year. It had a religious connotation to some sects, which believed that their respective deities were being reborn, gave birth, or got married on this day. For most people, it was an opportunity to go out and party with friends, and many private Wild Lands opened their doors for the occasion, wanting to make some money off these party-goers.

My thoughts slowly drifted to my family back home, in my original world. I wondered what my parents’ first Christmas without me would be like, if they’d still throw a big party, or perhaps something more modest… Or maybe they’d already gotten another dog, or some pet, to replace me and had moved on with their lives. As much as I didn’t want to be replaced by some dumb bald ball of skin and saliva, I did also realise that moving on was the best thing for them, and I hoped that my parents could still be happy, even without their daughter there.

A wet snowflake landed at the corner of my eye. As I wiped it away, my fingers were wetter and colder than I expected. I pulled my hood further over my head, masking away most of my vision, and with both my hands hidden deep inside my pockets, I picked up my pace. Even though there wasn’t anyone waiting for me at my apartment, it didn’t mean I should just stay out in this cold.