And this story will kick off a series of adventures that are yet to be told. Again, similiar to Mizuki's in the way it does not follow a Kingdom Hearts theme throughout the whole story until the near end.

Cling, ding! Cling, cling…cling!

Clancy brandishes the sword at me. Our swords meet again.

"Yaaah! Haah!"

I block his offensive attack and push him off with my sword. He staggers back and leaves a great opening for me to come in for the kill. I lunge at him, and before he can swing and hit me back, I knock the sword from his hand. It flips in in the air before the blade lands in the ground. Clancy falls on the ground with my sword pointed at his neck.

"Damn it," he mutters, slamming his fist in the soil. I take a step closer. Clancy gulps. A soothing breeze blows willow leaves past our eyes.

I toss the blade in the air, reversing the ends, and catch it with the handle aiming at his throat. He smiles.

"How many times do you practice a day?"

"Fifteen."

I hold my hand out. Clancy takes my hand and springs to his feet. "So am I gettin' better or what?"

"Worse."

"Tell me otherwise."

"You are improving wonderfully."

"Never mind," he walks over to his sword and retrieves it from the ground. "Why can't I get any better?"

"Do not be hard on yourself," I assure. "You need to practice more."

Clancy paces over to me. "But I have! Every day, every night-after breakfast, before dinner. And I'm nowhere near as good you are even though we're the same age."

"Certain people were made to be weapons."

"I wish I was."

"You do-"

My backdoor opens gently. Miriam stands in the doorway in her stay-at-home maroon attire.

"Lunch is ready Mistress and Mr. Philip," she announces. Her voice has always been pleasing and her fragile face is what makes me like her. Clancy cheers loudly, tossing the silver sword on the ground, and runs inside. I look upward to the bright blue sky and the sun shining above the village.

"Risa, you comin'?"

I sheathe my sword, pick up Clancy's, and trot into the house. An aroma of fresh flowers mixed with baked potatoes lingers in the old house. The creaky wooden floor is spotless, the table is set for the three of us, and the house could not be any cleaner. Clancy is about to woof down the mashed potatoes with his bare hands. Miriam slaps his hand.

"Ow, ow!"

"Wait for Mistress to come. That's rude."

"You left your sword outside," I slide the sword by the warm fireplace. "If you want to be a good swordsman, you must never abandon your sword for anything."

Clancy sulks, crossing his arms. "Thanks."

I pick up the fork and dig it into the buttery mashed potatoes. Miriam watches as I bring it to my mouth, inhaling the scent first, and then inserting it into my mouth. The potatoes melt in my mouth and have me wanting more, but I hold myself back.

Meanwhile Clancy is chowing down on the food like an animal. Miriam shakes her head in disgust and waves a finger at him.

"What?" he asks with a mouthful of green beans to go with the mashed potatoes.

"You're making a mess on the table! Didn't your mother teach you any manners?"

He suddenly puts his fork down and drops his head. Miriam gawked angrily at Clancy as he rises from the table without excusing himself and runs out the house.

"Such disrespectfulness. I apologize on his behalf Mistress," Miriam stands from the table and bows deeply before closing the door. I am the only one who can understand his anger, so I am able to forgive him for departing. He left his sword here again.

In no time, I am outside training with wooden dummies. I practice my flips and leaps and slice through the wooden dummy. I zoom towards the strategically placed dummies placed in a circle. By spinning on the ball of my foot, I slash each of the dummies, jump into a front-flip, and while upside, I hurl the sword at the one in the middle.

I land perfectly and unleash a barrage of punches and kicks on the rest of the dummies. When the wood becomes dented and broken, I sigh contently. I read the darkened sky: most likely seven by now. I notice Miriam leaning on a much older wooden dummy, watching me.

"Yes?"

"Mistress, I called you in for dinner fifteen minutes ago. You are a hard worker-"

"Daughter come in here!" an old, voice thunders from the house. Miriam winces and mouths "sorry" to me. Just what I need the night before the tournament.

I walk into the house, Miriam following behind, to meet Father. Father has twice the amount of wrinkles he had the last time we met and his mouth forms a permanent frown. He now carries an oak cane with a gold bottom-a fitting treasure for the Chief of Willow from his friend in the neighboring village.

"Shall I leave Master?" Miriam asks, bowing to him.

"No, that is unnecessary," Father says, slowly and carefully sitting on the firm sofa. He observes the jaded living room, with small plants on the window seal. The leaves sway in the gentle breeze, contrary to the tense atmosphere in the room.

"What do you want?" I cross my arms, keeping my distance. I feel Miriam creep up behind me.

"Mistress, I suggest you have a more lenient tone with the Chief of Willow. He is in a bad mood," she whispers. Father retaliates with an angry glare that I got used to when I was nine.

"Do not disrespect me in the house that I have paid for. You are lucky that you are staying in this house for free anyway. And with a free servant," he mutters exasperatedly.

"What do you want?" I reiterate. My monotone voice upsets him further.

"You are not to enter the tournament tomorrow."

My fists clench.

"And why is that?"

"That is an order. Do as you're told."

I hold my breath, trying to ignore the pain surging from my arm as Miriam rushes over to help Father to his feet.

"No." Such an unfamiliar word that likes to casually slip from my lips.