“I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you anything,” Vincent continued. “I was scared.”

  “It doesn’t matter, I understand. I prefer the real you.”

  And then, for some reason, Ayame gave him a long, wet kiss on the cheek.

  Vincent hugged her tighter. He felt he was exactly where he needed to be. And that would have to be enough. More than enough, it was everything.

  ***

  “You look better,” Erika said.

  “I guess it worked,” Vincent nodded.

  “What happened?”

  “She apologized first.”

  “I see. I guess my advice didn’t do you any good, then. Still, you owe me a fight.”

  “It did help me,” Vincent admitted, “to get another perspective. Like you said, a better, more distant and objective one. So, thank you.”

  What had happened would have happened even if he hadn't met this girl. He owed her nothing and really had nothing to thank her for. In that sense, it seemed to him that he did. Even if in the end it hadn't been necessary at all. Vincent had made the decision to tell Ayame the truth, even if only her, before she found out for herself. Late at night, but he had decided. That meant a lot to him. A lot.

  “Well,” Erika replied, “I don’t know if I agree, but I’m going to get what I want, so I can’t complain.”

  Erika raised both her swords. How long had she been training, pushing herself to the limit to get into the academy? He didn't beat her in determination. Vincent had dreamed of being here almost as much as the rest of the assholes. Maybe more.

  But almost everyone, including Erika, had had a few years of better quality. Real instructors. Fights. Constant improvement. While he had carefully hidden his shield and sword, had gone to the forest almost every day to practice when he finished at the smithy and at school. There was no comparison between them.

  He might not be stronger than Erika, but he absolutely had to be more skilled. He wasn't a big deal. He risked too much, and Erika, nothing.

  “However, thanks for not trying to make this a public spectacle,” Vincent said.

  Erika shrugged. No one would have thought she was stronger than him.

  “I’m not interested in idiots applauding me. I don’t even care if anyone believes me or not. Assuming I beat you, of course. Now that you have your head where it needs to be…”

  Vincent smiled. She was still overestimating him, by a lot, but he was determined to make sure that didn’t change. And if she was better trained, if she was stronger, a true combat class… he had already surpassed those supposed limits. He had destroyed Paul, he had beaten the second-year idiots—with Ayame’s help, of course, but he had done it—but he had done it! So, why did this girl have to be the first person to make him bite the dust?

  “I’m here to win,” Vincent said, “and I will win.”

  “That’s what I like,” she replied simply, smiling from ear to ear.

  The fight began again, or rather, it truly began this time. They clashed in the middle, the sound of steel against steel, sparks flying like petals in the wind. She had disarmed him easily before; if she had wanted, she would have ended the fight right then. But until then, they had exchanged attacks and defenses in a fairly even manner.

  I just have to avoid being disarmed by her, he thought as he exchanged blows with the girl again, sword to sword. It was easier said than done, of course, like almost everything in life, everything that mattered anyway.

  The best way, perhaps, would be to disarm her first. Play dirty, in any case. No nonsense, no returning a favor by letting her pick up her swords if he managed to disarm her. He was here to win, period.

  Erika fought with two swords; she had no shield, so her best option to protect herself from his attacks, her only option, was to dodge. She had to move a lot, bending, even jumping over his sword, losing ground, backing away more often than not. While he could keep his shield in front and never yield ground, fight almost without fear.

  There was a difference in skill, that was undoubtedly against him, but there was also the difference in the tools used; that played in his favor. That might balance the scales enough.

  Sparks filled the space between them. Anyone who got in the middle would have been torn to pieces in an instant, as if by a shredder.

  In the end…

  “Shit!”

  Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

  It was his sword that went flying first. Again. With a significant difference: this time Erika didn’t mess around. She pressed, took advantage of her advantage, and instead of letting him recover it so easily… Thump! The blade bounced off his shield. It had been dangerously close.

  Vincent dropped to the ground, rolled, and as he got up, recovered his sword.

  Close. But the difference between almost and nothing was non-existent in a fight.

  They moved, tracing a half-circle in the arena, studying each other. Vincent could guess what was going through Erika’s head. Probably something like: “Where the hell did this guy study fencing?” It wasn’t hard to realize, but still, she wasn’t making the mistake of underestimating him. Good for her. And good for him, it would be an insult.

  As if they had agreed on some kind of signal, they lunged forward at the same time. They clashed again. The exchanged attacks were getting faster and stronger. They were warming up, so to speak. Both could do more.

  Vincent dodged an attack directly instead of blocking it with his shield. The blade of the sword in Erika’s right hand grazed his boot, and then Vincent had an idea. He pressed, crushing her sword against the ground.

  “What?” Erika exclaimed.

  Then Vincent jumped and kicked her in the mouth. Erika collapsed, though she didn’t drop her weapons, of course. Vincent also fell to the ground, but recovered faster, rolling.

  He looked at her lying there. She put a hand to her mouth; she was more surprised than hurt, for sure, but quite a bit of both. As for Vincent, he vibrated with excitement. Both fights had been brief, but he was already fed up with being outmatched. It excited him beyond measure to have managed to outsmart a superior opponent.

  I can do it, Vincent thought. It's not all about fate at birth. If he tried hard enough, he could become a great Knight. Better than many real ones, that's for sure.

  Erika sat up, rubbing her jaw.

  “Okay, that’s better,” she said. “I was starting to worry you were holding back. Even now… it was you… you threw the tantrum, so thanks for the kick in the mouth.”

  Erika laughed. It was a rather sweet sound for such a tough girl.

  “You thought I was holding back?”

  More movements in semicircles.

  “Aha. I saw you fighting those second-year idiots and I had the feeling you were missing something now. A spark. Until now, at least. I guess you’re getting angry. It’s not the same as defending your partner’s honor, but you don’t want to lose. That’s good. If it turned out you’re better than me, even without the bloodlust, a good competitive spirit, then I’d be well and truly screwed.”

  It was a very interesting way of looking at things. Rather peculiar. But well, she still believed he was better, and not just because of stories, but she had seen it for herself. It could be said that Ayame had carried most of the burden in the fight with those second-year thugs, but he had seen it. That boosted anyone's confidence.

  He went for her with renewed strength. A delicate balance was maintained; they were evenly matched until they weren't. That could change at any moment. The difference between victory and defeat was less than a second.

  But there was no tension in his muscles. The initiation test, the fights with those small-time thugs, the robbery, the dungeon, the first quest… he had always been full of tension, risking his reputation or his life, risking appearing, at the very least, an easy target.

  But now, the tension was gone. Before he realized it, he hadn’t been able to realize it until now, but exchanging blows, giving his all to defeat the enemy… it was fun.

  Before he knew it, he was laughing.

  ***

  The door burst open. Ayame entered, agitated and clearly ready for a fight.

  “What’s going on?”

  Vincent took a deep breath and lowered his arms. His whole body was burning.

  “It’s nothing,” he replied. “Don’t worry.”

  Ayame looked between him and the stranger, as if she didn’t believe him. Well, it was normal; she had no idea who Erika was or what she was like.

  “It was just a fight,” Vincent continued. “But thanks for worrying about me.”

  “It’s true,” Erika said. “A bit of training, nothing more.”

  “He’s my partner, not yours. He doesn’t have to train with you.” Ayame took a step forward. The feeling of danger in the air was thick.

  “Okay,” Erika conceded, “but the point is I haven’t done anything to him, nor forced him, nor pissed him off. We just fought for the sake of fighting.”

  “Ayame,” Vincent said, standing up, “I’m telling you it’s true.”

  “Alright,” the vampiress nodded, though slowly and after a moment. “Okay. Who won?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?” Erika asked, her arms spread wide as if to encompass the arena. She hadn’t sheathed her swords yet, by the way.

  Ayame frowned, her expression darkening again.

  “I let her win,” Vincent blurted out.

  “What did you say?” Erika’s voice rose several octaves.

  “I thought she’d cry if I kicked her ass too hard,” Vincent replied, sarcastic.

  “That’s not true! Come on, tell her it’s not true!”

  Ayame nodded, as if she were playing along, or as if she hadn’t gotten it.

  “I figured. Let’s go.”

  Vincent sheathed his sword and put his shield behind his back. It was a bit uncomfortable; he planned to make a few improvements to it when he found the time and space to do some more complicated blacksmithing work. He joined his partner.

  “Someday I’ll give you a rematch,” Vincent said. “Soon.”

  He waved goodbye, in the end.

  Erika laughed too; she had no other choice.

  “Okay. It better be soon, really.”

  They left.

  Walking down the hall.

  “Who is she?” Ayame whispered, her voice almost accusatory.

  “I ran into her wandering around, lost in thought, by chance. Erika… Well, she never told me her last name.”

  “Do you want her?” Ayame asked, looking at Vincent.

  “What do you mean?”

  “For the team?”

  “Ah! It hadn’t even crossed my mind.”

  Ayame nodded, apparently satisfied.

  ***

  “I don’t know what happened exactly,” Tara said, polishing her bow. “But I’m glad you two could work things out. I was starting to feel very uncomfortable, and a bit left out,” she admitted. “I didn’t force her to do anything, but I didn’t stop it either. So it’s strange she didn’t get angry with me too.”

  “It sounds weird, but I guess that’s true,” Vincent said.

  Being annoyed because your friend hadn't gotten angry with you, instead of feeling grateful for it, was peculiar. But he understood what Erika meant: that it made her think Ayame cared more about Vincent, about how he saw her, about his opinions. Enough to get angry with him, but not with her.

  Whether Erika was right or not, Vincent understood perfectly why she might feel that way.

  “What happened in the end?” Tara asked.

  “Nothing, she came to her senses. She apologized to me.”

  "Your secret is safe with me."

  That’s what he had whispered to Ayame, in her ear, under the shade of the trees. That, of course, implied keeping it hidden from Tara too. It wasn’t a risk he could—no, they could—take. Leaving her out of this matter was, therefore, inevitable.

  It was, therefore, inevitable, however much it weighed on his heart.