Paris

33

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Ladybug's P.O.V

Chat Noir and I had met once again to train me in the ways of sword fighting.

   I leaped back from his attack and quickly fixed my stance. My breaths were short, wearing down from all the training. We have been doing this for nearly two hours already without much of a break. Although, Chat Noir apparently has bundles of energy. He does not seem to be very tired at all.

   "Of course, he is a trained super soldier. He is fit enough to fight for long periods," I thought.

   Yet, I am not discouraged by my lack of fitness. Due to the exercises they gave me, I have lasted much longer than when I started sword fighting training with Chat. I can proudly say I am improving.

   "Alright," Chat Noir said, sheathing his weapon, "I think that will do with training for today."

   "Yes. Thank you very much," I replied, bowing at Chat Noir to show my gratitude. My partner gave me a questioning look.

   "Why the thank you?" he asked. I approached him while sheathing my weapon.

   "It is for your graciousness to train me. It means more than you know that you are doing this for me," I told him with a smile, "My mother is not so...fond of my favorite sport."

   Chat Noir chuckled, sitting down on the edge of the building's edge. I followed him, wondering what was so funny.

   "It is an unusual thing for a woman to do, not that I am against it. It is bizarre, is all," the blonde answered.

   "Bizarre?" I scoffed in offense.

   "I merely mean it as a compliment. It makes you unique from other women," Chat offered his explanation.

   My heart fluttered within my chest and warmth covered my cheeks. Something in my stomach is doing delightful flips, giddy at Chat Noir's praise. I have never felt this feeling before. What is wrong with me? Am I under the weather? Why am I suddenly so nervous?

   I hummed my reply, not wanting to risk my mouth blabbering something unintelligible. I am already feeling odd as is. I do not need to embarrass and confuse myself.

   "You know, I have had a deep hatred for the wealthy class," Chat Noir spoke. I perked up at the mention of my lousy class, giving him my undivided and anxious attention. What brought this topic up?

   "Does not everyone?" I joked, trying to hide my stiffness. Luckily, Chat Noir did not notice.

   "You do make a fair point," he agreed, "but I assumed they were all terrible miscreants. I never talked to the deserted wealthy children before, much less interacted with them. Yet, I have recently been proven wrong."

   "Proven wrong on what?" I questioned.

   "Not all of them are bad," he answered, "There was one in particular that had surprised me just like you had. My perspective has changed and I have recently bonded with some of those ex-wealthy class civilians. They were a lot nicer than what I originally imagined them to be."

I am a bit surprised Chat Noir even considered the exiled wealthy class children a menace. I suppose it was hard to get along with them at the start. But when the children of the rich folk find a better source of guidance, they do become much nicer.

The only reason they acted the way they do is to show strength and power. That is how they were raised. If they have neither, the children are banished. They have to if they do not want to live a poverty-stricken life in the poor section—a brutal, hard-living life. Which in most cases, it is.