The Sherry in Shadow

Chapter 14: Riposte

Immediately following lunch, the emergency training began. The mandate was simple: prepare for combat without relying on slime swords, to avoid being caught off-guard should they be rendered ineffective. Sherry felt a sense of relief; she was freed from the tiresome task of attempting to conjure a slime sword for the duration of this training. It still meant Sherry had to learn swordsmanship with a metal sword, but this at least saved a step she was having trouble with.

Sherry wondered if the Chameleon artifact could aid in summoning a slime sword, but the risk of exposing her secret in a public setting was too high. So, for the moment, that thought was shelved. With the prospect of slime-based weaponry momentarily discarded, Sherry couldn't help but feel a sense of triumph.

The antacid-induced chaos she had birthed ages ago was having a desired effect, and Shadow Garden was in an uproar. Despite her earlier misadventure during the bandit "ambush", here was tangible evidence that she had still managed to inflict a wound, however minor, on the behemoth that was Shadow Garden. It was almost poetic. She felt a strong urge to applaud herself, as if she had envisioned this exact turn of events back then.

And yet...

"Can you believe that Lord Shadow predicted this?" said one of the Numbers. "He foresaw the weakness in our slime suits, and had everyone learn the sword from the get-go for this exact reason!"

...for some reason, Sherry couldn't muster the confidence to congratulate herself. The incessant praises for Shadow from the other Numbers were really dampening her ego. And beyond that, the revelation of why sword training had been so heavily emphasized rattled her. Doubt crept into her mind, wrapping around her thoughts like a cold tendril.

Did Lord Shadow really predict her antacid ruse? Just when she thought she got one over on Shadow, has he already seen through her every move? Was she, in fact, right where he wanted her all along?

Sherry was starting to feel like she's been dancing in the palm of a master puppeteer this whole time, like she's merely food being played with. The idea that Shadow could have outlined the entire course of her life, not just since he killed her parents, but even at the inception of Shadow Garden, was terrifying.

Sherry's grip on her sword wavered. She swore she could hear Shadow mocking her. She was so distracted that when she swung her sword at the practice dummy, the sword went sailing.

"H-Hey, watch it, 720!" screamed 719, narrowly avoiding the errant weapon.

"Shadow..." The name echoed ominously in her mind, and Sherry found herself struggling for breath.

---

"Achoo!" sneezed I.

Ah, the sneezing trope. It's a classic. It's a sign that someone is talking about you at this very moment.

Or, at least, that's what people say. But trust me, I've done the tests.

"Hey, Pooch?"

Back in my former life, I arranged numerous tape recorders across a variety of locations, biding my time until my next sneeze. I would then laboriously sift through hours of audio footage, but not once did it reveal any chatter about me. On another occasion, I scrawled my name across the classroom whiteboard, hoping it would coax people into talking about me during my absence. Not a single sneeze followed. Once, I even perched myself in a tree, armed with binoculars, quietly whispering about unsuspecting pedestrians below. Only one out of a thousand attempts had anyone ever sneezed, and that guy face-planted on a pepper. I've tried several more variations, but the outcome was clear: sneezes held no power.

"Pooch? Are you even paying attention?"

Honestly, it was a disappointing result. I had hopes that I could set up a covert sneeze-telepathy network, gathering information like a true, bona fide shadowbroker. But alas, I was lied to. Sure, it's great for fiction, but most tales fail to provide any scientific justification for it. I wished I hadn't wasted so much time thinking about it so hard.