Academia: The House of Lionheart

XII

Ren stood before his brother for the first time in his life. Roiru was always the one protecting him — no matter what he did, no matter how hard he tried, it always seemed like he was stronger than Ren. Now, he wants to prove to himself that he can finally protect him, even if it means he may hurt him a little amid their training.

The duels were something he knew he could excel at — the other Lionhearts practiced swordsmanship for a week, but Ren and Sebastian were hard at work for over two months. They refined their skills even between their classes to ensure they would never become dead weight for their house.

So Ren watched as his misty breath floated away with the gentle breeze. The world was blue, and the air pained every inch of his bones, but it barely fazed him. He grew accustomed to the climate of the mountains after Zerakiel's training. If he didn't, what good of a pupil would he be to his master?

Brother, thought Ren, look at what I can do. They backed out of striking distance, and their feet fell into position as one slid behind the other. They drew their swords, and Ren brought his wooden blade to the sky beside his head. Everyone must've recognized that style. It was the most notorious of them all — the Severance Stance.

"Let's go, Roiru!" screamed Reign from the sidelines. Ren watched as his brother's eyes glowed with her voice reaching his heart. She cheered for him, but who was cheering for Ren? It didn't matter — he knew that even if his brother was trying his best to strike him down, Roiru was cheering him on. Somewhere inside his heart, there must've been a whisper encouraging Ren.

Roiru charged with his sword in tow — his footwork was sloppy. Ren telegraphed a swing just before he got into striking distance, but he wanted him to react. Take the bait, brother. Roiru then threw his sword up to block that swing — he'd fallen right into his palm. Wood bat against wood, echoing throughout the mountain range. Ren threw a kick at his legs, nearly knocking his twin to the ground. There! An opening. Who would've known he would be better than his brother at swordsmanship? He swung his sword again, and the moment it connected would mean he could finally protect his twin.

But it wasn't going to be so easy — of course, he had been inferior all his life. How could it ever be? A wooden pillar broke through the ground beneath him, and the blade whizzed past Roiru's head. The column shot high into the sky with Ren's eyes darting all over the range — he could've popped up from anywhere. He had to stay frosty. When he looked down one end of the pillar, Roiru was nowhere to be found.

Where did he go? He prowled to the other side, hesitant to peek over the edge. He let his eyes glance over the wood, and Roiru flashed through the air with his white, fiery wings and the swing of his sword in tow. Ren sprang away with his black and white wings popping out of his back. Wooden pillars slammed through the flames behind him, barely missing Ren.

"Gotta work on your aim, you cheeky rascal," said he, watching Roiru's smile creep across his cheeks. They danced through the skies, exchanging blows under the clouds with echoes reaching the mountains beneath them. It reminded Ren of the times they used to train under their old lord. That memory, of course, accompanied the remembrance of losing his first love in his arms.

He wasn't strong enough then. He wasn't sure he was strong enough now, but he decided he would never settle, even if he felt like he could protect those he loved. It wasn't ever going to be enough — he was going to strive for greater heights than he had ever imagined before.

The twins fell close to the ground, and Ren saw his brother's hands faltering. He shot a swing close to the handle — Roiru's block came, but the moment their blades met, his sword flew out of his grip. Ren was left standing before Roiru, sword in hand and its edge by his neck.