Chapter Text
Chapter 1
The practice room is silent, lit by pale light spilling through the window. The air is thick with the smell of rubber mats, sweat, and aged wood. Outside, the weather is deceptively cool for the final days of summer, though a lingering heat clings to the air. People drift through their daily routines, unaware of the scene unfolding within.
At the center of the floor, alone, stands a girl of sixteen. Her face is earnest, her cheeks flushed pink from exertion in the sweltering heat. Her dark hair is pulled back into a stubby ponytail, damp strands plastered against her temples. She wears a plain white fencing jacket, slightly oversized, the sleeves bunched at her wrists, and scuffed sneakers that squeak with every pivot.
Her eyes are closed, her focus drawn inward.
𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘯he opens them, and the moment she raises her épée, she transforms. Her gaze turns bright, fierce, locked onto an opponent that isn't there.
Her blade slices through the air with a sharp thwip. She recovers, pivots on her heel, and advances again, three quick steps, a feint, a thrust. Each strike is a sentence spoken to herself in a language only she understands.
Her breath comes in ragged bursts. Sweat drips from her chin, darkening the mat beneath her. She stumbles once, catches herself, and presses on, muttering under her breath, "Again... 𝘈𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯."
Her shadow stretches long beneath the flickering light from the windows. She attacks the empty air with everything she has, as if the whole world is watching, as if this single moment matters more than anything else.
At last she pauses, then sinks onto the wooden floor, chest heaving as she catches her breath. She has been practicing since seven in the morning, and now it is eleven.
It has become her routine, in summer, with nothing else to fill her days, this is what she does. She wakes at six, eats breakfast, changes into her practice clothes, and runs to the training hall. It is far from home, but she prefers it that way; the run wakes her up and doubles as a workout. She arrives, warms up, and begins fencing at exactly seven. Her coach usually arrives at nine or ten to watch and instruct her, but today an unexpected plan had come up, and he would be late.
She lies exhausted on the floor, eyes closed. The faint buzz of the world outside drifts in through the open window, cool against her skin.
Then the practice room door creaks open. She already knows who it is: 𝘡𝘩𝘢𝘰 𝘺𝘶𝘧𝘢𝘯, as he insisted her to call him James, Her coach.
He is half-Thai and half-Chinese, but he came to live in Korea for reasons of his own. He is three years older than her, which she had found ridiculous at first, surely a coach should be older, more experienced. But she had searched for fencing coaches for so long, and no one had been willing to take her on as a student. In the end, she had asked him.
He is, in fact, a hockey player who competes in international games. But he had also dabbled in fencing for a while, and he is remarkably good at it, which had genuinely surprised her at first.
James steps in and finds her sprawled on the floor, exhausted. He smiles and walks toward her, two bottles of banana milk in hand.
"Y/N, how was today's practice without me? Did you miss me?" he teases,
pressing one of the cold bottles against her face. Her eyes fly open and she snatches it from him.
"No, I didn't. But thanks for this." She sits up and drinks.
He chuckles, stands, and picks up an épée, pointing it at her.
"One round?"
She rises and retrieves her own blade.
"One round."
They spar. Y/N is focused, but she has never beaten him before, and she still cannot tell whether he is simply that good, or whether she is simply not good enough.
He wins again. She lies back for a moment to catch her breath.
"You improved. A little," he says.
"But I still didn't win," she replies.
"Unfortunately."
He offers his hand and pulls her to her feet.
"Let's go get lunch."
They go to a restaurant nearby, one Y/N suggested, and James knows exactly why.
"Do you really like Iroha that much that you'd come to her mom's restaurant? She's not even here, she studies in Seoul for her fencing," he teases.
"I said she's someone I admire for fencing, not someone 𝘐 like. She's incredible, and I want to be like her. And I know she's not here," she says, rolling her eyes.
"Same thing," he chuckles.
"I don't think you'd know anything about these things these days, coming from the dinosaur era."
"Says the one who claimed I was too young to be her coach."
"You still look old to me."
"I'm only three years older than you," he says, laughing in disbelief.
"Same thing," she says.
"Hey, don't steal my line."
Their food arrives, and they eat in comfortable silence until James breaks it.
"So, have you decided which high school you're going to?"
"Not yet," she says, not looking up from her meal.
"Why not *** High School? I have friends there, two of them are in same age as you, I think you will become a good classmates."
"Why are you even friends with high schoolers? I take back what I said, you're still in kindergarten, playing with the kids."
"Yaa! That's even worse! Stop roasting my age," he says, feigning frustration.
"Anyway, one of my friends said..." He smirks. "...that he heard rumors that a new student will be coming this year, and she's a fencer-"
Before he can finish, Y/N's eyes widen. She shoots to her feet so quickly that her chair scrapes against the marble floor, drawing curious glances from nearby tables.
"Deadass?!" she exclaims, beaming with excitement.
James quickly pulls her back down. "Calm down first," he chuckles. "And yes, but it might just be rumors."
"I don't care. I'll tell my mom to enroll me in that school. Finally, after all this time, I'll have a fencing friend," she says, grinning.
"What if she doesn't want to be your friend?" he teases.
"Don't care. I'll still have someone in school who shares the same passion. At my old school, I kept my dream hidden because everyone told me it was impossible. But now I'll have someone to fight alongside."
"You're already imagining it. Unbelievable," he chuckles.
They finish their meal, and James pays.
"I should have paid for us," Y/N says.
"I don't let my students pay," he says proudly.
"Wow, thanks, Dad." She rolls her eyes.
"No problem. Anyway, I'm going to head out. Good luck convincing your mom to transfer you to that school." He pats her back and leaves.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She arrives home to an empty house, as always. Her parents are at work, they leave early and return late, and Y/N rarely has time with them. They are always busy, with little chance to talk beyond the occasional dinner.
She still shares her needs and worries with them, but their evenings are consumed by calls and computer work. Sometimes, if there's a special occasion, they'll take the night off.
She heads to the bathroom and takes a cold shower, washing away the heat of the day. Then she retreats to her room, small, yet somehow spacious. Fencing posters line the walls, alongside certificates. On her shelf sit trophies and medals from fencing competitions and school subject contests. Her parents had objected at first, insisting fencing would ruin her future. She promised to keep studying hard, and they reluctantly agreed.
There's an Iroha poster too. She is genuinely in awe of her talent and never misses watching her international matches. Y/N's goal is to become like her; to reach the international stage one day.
She lies down on her bed and takes out her journal. She has always loved writing about her days; when her feelings grow too heavy to carry, she pours them onto the page, and it makes everything lighter.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
At dinner, her parents are home, and the three of them eat at the dining table in quiet. Y/N clears her throat, and both her parents look up.
"So, school is starting again, and I'm going into high school. I was thinking about *** High School," she says seriously.
Her mother studies her for a moment. "Why did you pick that school, out of nowhere?" She raises an eyebrow, curious. Her father watches, waiting for an answer.
"I heard their teachers are excellent, and they do well in international competitions," Y/N says. She had researched the school when she got home.
"And...?" Her mother knows her too well, she can see there's more beneath the surface.
"And... I'll have a fencing friend. Though I don't know if she'll want to be my friend," she adds nervously.
Her mother glances at her father, searching for any sign of refusal. Finding none, he simply nods.
"So...?" Y/N presses, impatient.
"On one condition—"
"Deal." She didn't even let her mom finish her sentence,
"That was quick. Anyway, I'll transfer you on one condition: while you pursue fencing, you'll still take your studies seriously."
"Of course!" she says, so fast it's as if the words might vanish the moment she hesitates.
Her mother raises an eyebrow; her father chuckles softly.
"Fine. I'll go to that school tomorrow and enroll you. I believe classes start again next week."
Y/N is so elated that she jumps up, knocking her knee against the table. She winces for a second, then bows quickly to her parents in her excitement.
"Thank you so much! I promise I'll make you both proud." And with that, she hurries to her room.
"You haven't finished your food," her mother calls after her.
"I'm full, thank you!" she answers from her room.
"Unbelievable, she hasn't changed a bit." Her mother chuckles, and her father shakes his head, smiling with quiet pride.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A week passes, and at last the day Y/N has been waiting for arrives. She wakes early as usual, takes a quick shower, and puts on her uniform. Her parents had already left, something urgent had come up.
she reaches the dining table, she finds that her mother had made breakfast and covered it to keep it warm, with a sticky note resting on top.
"I know it's your first day of high school. Sorry we couldn't be there. I hope you have a wonderful first day, eat well before it gets cold, love you."
Y/N smiles as she reads it, then eats her breakfast and heads out.
She walks through her neighborhood. The weather is cool today, bright and pleasant, and a breeze brushes against her skin, a sensation she loves. Students stroll past in clusters; it's the first day of school once again.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She reaches the school gate, where students laugh with their friends, some racing inside while others greet a teacher arriving at the same time. She pauses, taking in the scene, then smiles with quiet excitement, and steps through the gate.