I pivoted in place, pulling my left side back, barely preventing the sword from skewering me as it thrust through the space my shoulder had just occupied, missing it by mere inches. Using the momentum of my pivot, I thrust the sword in my right hand forward, aiming for my opponent's shoulder in turn.
Like me, he twisted away from the blow, pulling his shoulder back as the momentum of his strike continued to drag him forward.
For a moment, just as he was about to pass me by, we ended up mirroring each other. Both of our swords were thrust forward in our right hands while our left sides were pulled back to avoid the other's blow.
Even the swords in our hands were the same, mirror images of the other. A matching pair of steel grey long-swords. Straight, simple and functional, free from any extravagant and unnecessary ornaments.
They were perfect copies of each other, down to the smallest detail. I made sure of it. The only things that truly differentiated us from the other was his blond hair compared to my red, and the irritated frown on his face opposed to the amused smirk on mine.
He stomps his foot into the ground, stopping his forward momentum before we got out of each other's range, and redirecting the energy into his left arm, swinging the blade that suddenly appeared in what was his once empty hand at me.
It was a complete reversal of his last sword. Where the first was basic and practical in design, this one was ornamental to an extreme.
The sapphires that studded along the flat of the blade were arranged in eye-pleasing swirling patterns, glimmering in the light of the morning dawn. Its hilt was gold plated and where there should have been a pommel was an egg-sized sapphire instead.
He swung it down on me from overhead, as if trying to cleave me in two, putting all of his weight behind the blow. It didn't take him long to learn that holding back in our spars was a bad idea. It did nothing but make him lose that much faster and after I simply overpowered his strikes with my own a couple of dozen times the first few days we practiced, he stopped doing so entirely.
Still, even after he pushed every ounce of strength he had into that strike it never reached me. Didn't even come close. As before it covered half the distance between us a sword, one so similar to his, intercepted it just as it came down.
It took me less than a fraction of a second to analyze the sword and read its history before recreating a perfect replica of it for myself. The moment it fell into my hand I brought the sword down overhead at him, with exactly the same strike and trajectory he was using against me.
The air echoed with the ringing of steel as both swords rebounded off the other, sending a fireworks of sparks into the air, filling the space between us with flickering lights.
The power of the blow sent him stumbling back a step before he regained his balance. Then instead of bringing the sword back down again for another strike, Kiba released his sword, both of them. They quickly disappeared as they left his hands, fading into motes of lights before another pair of swords appeared in his grip to take their place.
While it took him a while, he had finally begun to realize that I could copy his skills with the sword after several hours of sparring together. It took him even longer to discover that I was able to mimic his skill much easier when he kept using the same swords or styles he tended to favor.
Since then he's tried to confuse me by switching swords as often and quickly as he could. Sometimes never using the same sword for more than a single strike before switching to a new weapon.
Like he was doing right now.
The air between us continued to be filled with multicolored specks of lights as our swords streaked towards each other, birthing sparks whenever they clashed.
Swords made from nothing but living shadow and darkness, blades with crimson flames licking up and down their edge, claymores then daggers, elegant rapiers were followed by serrated blades.
Time after time our swords would meet and clash only to be repelled then replaced by another in the next strike, never using the same sword as one used before.
Yet each time he switched swords, I would do so too, matching whatever blade he conjured with one that mirrored his. Dagger with dagger, long sword with long sword, and I would always strike with the same amount of skill and force he would wield his sword with, as if I was some kind of doppelganger.
His idea of a switching swords was a good one in theory but a bad one in practice. He knew it wasn't enough so to overwhelm me, not by a long shot, so he would experiment with his attacks.
Strike from left when he would often favor the right during practice, thrust instead of cleaving, go low when he should have went high, always trying something new or different than his usual method of attack.
Unfortunately that wasn't enough. On the rare occasions that he successfully catches me off guard, it's usually when he does something unusual or with a move he has never practiced before. Unsurprisingly this causes his skill and speed to drop significantly, his usual elegance with the blade nowhere to be seen, allowing me to counter him easily even through my surprise.
Still, this was good practice for him. It forced him to try experiment and try to think of knew attack style outside of his usual patterns. In the long run it will only help him developed as a fighter. From what I had observed, Kiba's strength lies in his speed and his versatility granted to him by his swords.
The problem was that Kiba failed to capitalizes on his strengths. Sure, he has no problem using his speed but it was how he used his swords that was the issue. He relies too much on the multitude and flexibility of his swords' abilities while he himself remains rigid.
Kiba clearly favors the European long sword, it was the kind of sword his fighting style was meant to wield. That was the reason why almost all the swords he produced with his Sacred Gear were long swords. But that was just a waste of his Sacred Gears power. Sword Birth can produce almost every kind of sword there is but Kiba limits himself to one.
It was an understandable problem. Learning different sword styles is a difficult and time-consuming process that would take years even for talented swordsmen to accomplish.
I was only able to overcome the problem thanks to my ability to use the skills of my swords' previous owners. That was however not a good enough excuse for him not to learn other styles.
That was what I was trying to do. By making him realize that his current way of fighting didn't work against me, I was forcing him to try something new. To adapt and experiment with his Sacred Gear until he found something that worked.
"Damn…jocks." A tired voice wheezed out, dragging me out of my thoughts just as I deflected another blow. I shifted my attention away from the little game I was playing with Kiba and looked to my right, where on the other side of the clearing we were training in, stood an utter exhausted looking Sona
Well, calling what she was doing standing would have been rather a stretch, considering that she was bent over double and just barely staying on her own two feet. I was sure the only reason why she wasn't sprawled out face first on the ground was due to the staff that she was desperately clinging onto.
And even with the staff that she was using to prop herself up she was barely able to remain standing. Her legs kept wobbling in place beneath her and threatened to give out at any second.
She was glaring up at us over the rim of her glasses, her face drenched with so much sweat that drops of it continued to drip down her face and off the tip of her nose.
Her sweat soaked hair was plastered onto her face and her breath came out in short wheezing pants. Even the School's sport uniform that she had on was completely soaked through with her sweat.
Yet despite her obvious exhaustion, she didn't lose a hint of her usual ferocity as she attempted to force us into submission with the power of her glare alone. Or tried to anyway. Sona was hardly the most intimating person to me even during the best of times.
Now, what with the way her drenched hair was plastered onto her face, she looked as ferocious as an angry kitten that was just taken out of its bath. Her glaring just made her look even more adorable.
"How… "She panted out between breaths, "… is this… supposed to be… fun? Bloody… Jocks… how are you… possibly… enjoying this?"
I felt a stirring of satisfaction as I watched his unrelenting attack. It was a far cry from how he acted when we started. Back then he was both chivalrous and honourable, stopping his attacks and waiting for me to face him again instead of continuing whenever my attention was drawn away by the others training with us.
The first time he did it I made sure praised him for behaving in a matter truly befitting a knight. Then when he let his guard down as he was about to thank me for the compliment I slammed the flat of my sword into the side of his skull when he wasn't ready. I made sure to hit him hard enough for him to really feel it too.
I ended up over doing it a bit and my strike wound up giving him a concussion. Asia had to be called in to help fix him up and get him back on his feet again. She also had to come in the second and third this time happened as well.
It was only after the third time did it began to dawn on him I was being sarcastic with my complements, and after that he finally learnt to not stop attacking whenever I looked away.
Now don't get me wrong, chivalry and honour are both wonderful things. It's one of the reason why I fell for Saber after all. I just don't believe they should belong on the battlefield. They tend to get you killed more often than not.
And I sure as hell wasn't about to allow anyone I teach die in such a stupid way. Only the strong can afford to show chivalrous in battle. I'm convinced that the only reason why Saber survived for so long acting the way she did was because disadvantaged or not she had more than enough power to overwhelm anyone that challenged her.
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Hey guys I really need you to throw some power Stones ;)
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