Hunter's idea of an off day was to practice at local level training grounds. Without his Golden Guard regalia, he was pretty much invisible. And while he enjoyed the attention the armor garnered, it was much too impractical to practice with on his off days. However, he didn't appreciate leaving his own staff behind all that much.

Even then, he still liked the wooden staves provided at every training ground. Base but useful, they all came from the same maker and quickly cut in the same pattern. Running his thumb across the beveled edge of the staff, he indulged himself with the thought of being just another student, grateful to have access to even these. Simpler pleasures.

"You're new here, aren't you?" asked a voice, unfamiliar to him.

Hunter pulled himself away from his thoughts and turned to face the voice. He stalled a moment to take her in: tall, verdant hair, and an almost disarming smile. "Uh, yeah. Guess, it's my first time here."

"Newbie, huh?" She sized him up as well, though with less intensity. "Explains why you're gawking at the staves."

"It's not often I practice with these," he said, not lying. "I'm Hunter."

"Emira," she returned as she pulled a staff of her own off the rack. While stepping away, she made sure to knick him in the back of the knee with the end of her staff. He stumbled slightly, weak for a moment.

Hunter's face tightened, as he steadied himself with his staff. "You will not be doing that again."

"Did I hit a nerve?" She asked, partly genuine, partly amused by his stiff demeanor. "I bet I can strike you there again, if you're willing to spar."

He walked past her. "I'm not looking for a sparring partner."

As he walked, Emira seemed to teleport right in front of him, with a light flash. "Afraid I'm gonna hurt you?"

Impossible, he thought. He pushed his staff through her gut, and it phased through her. "Illusionist." His tone was derogatory, yet he kept the rest of the disrespectful thought in check. He should have known there was no way a witch at her level knew how to teleport.

A second Emira stepped past Hunter's right. "I don't appreciate your tone, Hunty."

Hunter felt another presence and quickly slid his staff to block the back of his knee, where it thudded with another. "Cute."

Emira chuckled as her two other selves vanished. "Thought I had you there," she admitted as she patted his shoulder. It was the real her. "Yes, I'm an illusionist. Laying all my cards out on the table. Hope you don't look down on me."

Hunter faltered just a bit. "What? I didn't mean…"

She laughed again. "No worries. It's all mind games. We do that." Emira swung the staff again, and he blocked it, almost a bit too slow to react. "I thought you didn't want to spar?"

"I don't," he affirmed. "I just would rather… It's not often I get to train on my own."

Emira softened. "Same here." She pulled the staff back. "I'm usually tied to my brother, but he's out sick today, so it's me time."

"And you came to train? I can appreciate that."

"And I'd appreciate it if I had a different partner this one time." It wasn't much of a hint, more of a friendly demand.

He hung his shoulders. "Alright." He stepped over to one of the empty training mats and held up his staff. "Let's go."

Emira stepped up to meet him. She circled him, and he followed her lead. He studied her for a moment, realizing she was looking for a way in. He decided to give her one.

Hunter took a few steps too short, just enough to make it seem like his legs were getting tied together. As predicted, Emira pounced on the opportunity, spearing the staff past his legs, a feint. She wanted to knock him off balance, and he knew that. So he gave her what she wanted.

He dropped his staff down and fought it off. Emira slipped her foot between his legs, and forced his stance wide. He stumbled, overdoing it, in fact, but Emira was too caught in the thrill of her move that she went for the sweeping blow with her staff, pulling it like a scythe.

Hunter used his widened right leg to kick his own staff back and deflect the blow. He re-gripped the wood and pushed off, shoving Emira's advance away. In her own stumble, he brought his , and swiftly knocked her off her own feet. He pressed his staff into her very real gut.

"I thought you didn't practice much with staves," Emira remarked, pushing his baton to the side.

Hunter smiled, lips closed. To some it'd be considered smug. "Oh, I meant these kinds of staves, specifically. The ones I often use are much better."

"Huh, set me up from the start," she noted with a half laugh, half scoff. "It's not often I get out played like that."

"I reveal when I need to," he said, a bit pleased in his own words. "So you've trained obviously. Can I ask where?"

"Here and at Hexside," Emira answered, finally standing up. "Mom wants one of her kids in the Emperor's coven, so I need combat training at least once a week." She brushed off her clothes. "Where'd you learn?"

"My uncle—" Hunter caught himself. "…He makes training weapons, and I help… break them in." He didn't like the lie much, but it would do. It was a half lie, at best. Most training staves were provided by Emperor Belos' instruction to improve his image, after all. "This isn't his work, but I know the person who cut these staves."

"Wow, I really bit on more than I could chew, huh?"

Hunter scratched at his neck. "I guess so. I'd understand if you wanted to cut this session short."

Emira huffed. "Oh, no way! Now I really wanna get you, this time."

"Alright," he said, this time much more enthused. "Do your worst."

"Ooookay," Emira hummed. She set her stance wide and held up her staff. The baton filled with a light blue glow, and it seemed like the training stick extended until it was a healthy margin longer. She twirled it around, and Hunter quickly lost track of which end was the illusion. It didn't help that Emira was good at masking which side held more weight as both ends appeared equal.

This time, Emira didn't wait for an opening, throwing a series of attacks, which Hunter spent fighting off his back foot. What he thought was a blow quickly became a feint attempt as it phased through his staff. He scrambled to deflect the blow, but now it became difficult to find her intentions through the illusion.

He didn't like being rushed to deflect. He studied her attacks, and just barely kept her at bay. Just when he figured which end was the fake, she'd twirl it quickly to mask her attacks again. His focus entirely on defending kept his own attacks cut off or weak.

Just think, he steeled himself. He watched for anything that might betray her illusion. Then he caught it.

Emira went for one more lunge, and he knew that he had the advantage now. He just had to work quick before she realized he knew how to tell the fake apart.

Hunter let the false end phase through his weapon then him, and this time got better at countering the real swing. Emira, as usual, twirled the staff, and Hunter used it to pounce. As she spun it, he tipped the real end and knocked her off balance. He tried to end it now, using his momentum against her, but it was short lived, as she pushed him off.

Attacking again, Emira caught on to the fact he didn't flinch at the false swipes now. "How'd you figure it out?"

Hunter deflected the blow. "These training staves only have one end with a pointed tip." He stepped back to buy himself more time. "The false one has the blunt end." He fought off another series of strikes, as if she tested his theory. "Your illusion is too honest."

"Huh," she hummed with a conceding nod. "You really know your stuff, Golden Boy."

"Golden Bo—?"

Before Hunter could finish his sentence, Emira had struck him flat across the face and sent him to the mat. She immediately dropped her own weapon and knelt at his side.

"S-sorry! " she stammered, cupping his face to survey the damage. "Oh, did I knock a tooth out?"

Hunter only winced. "Nah, it's always been like that," he admitted, referring to the gap in his teeth while waving it off. "What'd you mean by Golden Boy?"

She smiled sheepishly. "Oh, I meant your hair. It's not often I see that shade."

"Ah, right," he said in a weak chuckle, relieved she didn't know who he was. "Runs in the family, I guess." Looking up at her, he noticed the brown roots hidden beneath her green locks. "…unlike yours."

"Oh, yeah, I dye mine. Though, it's probably obvious."

"No, no. It looks nice."

They paused for a moment, before Emira realized she was still holding him. "Oh!" she gasped before helping him sit up on his own.

"Thanks," he hummed flatly, feeling the heat on his cheeks. He wasn't all too sure if it was the welt or if it was his own blushing. He rolled his shoulders. "Alright. I think I'm all sparred out. Call it a draw?"

"Oh, yeah," she answered, "Thanks for training with me."

"Of course, no problem," he groaned, biting back the embarrassment of being flattened out so easily. He stood up and Emira joined him. "So once a week, huh?"

"Y-yeah!" She nodded a little too enthusiastically. "Usually just here with my brother. Though, I wouldn't mind if we trained again."

He rubbed the swelling on his cheek. "I'll think about it."