I have a really weird dream that night, but one that makes sense in a way. The exhaustion of the day, I'd naturally reach out I suppose. Almost as soon as I hit my pillow, I'm transported to somewhere unfamiliar. Green fields stretch across hills in the distance, the sun just peeking out above them. A white brick wall spans the horizon ringing us in. Training dummies are scattered about before me, and some sort of medieval barracks sits behind them.

A man stands resplendent in silver armor trimmed with gold, a deep blue cloak flowing behind him. The polished armor is made of interlocking plates, almost reminiscent of dragon scales, with intricate twists around the forearms and calves. My eyes are drawn to the sword that glows at his hip, shining almost as bright as the sunrise beside him, its gleaming steel matching his armor perfectly. The craftsmanship seems almost inhuman, perfectly symmetrical and polished to a mirror finish. The other thing... his hair and eyes are the same color as Sakura's. They could almost be related, if not for his more western features.

"Gareth!" He shouts, sternly but tinged with affection, and my body snaps to attention. This must be her memory. I look up at him, feeling Gareth's admiration and respect for him. She clearly has a long history with him.

"You're here to become a knight. The scenery is lovely, but don't get too distracted."

The girl's body nods, and she speaks. "Yes Sir Lancelot! Thank you so much for this opportunity, I'm very grateful to be training with you!" The man chuckles lightly at her enthusiasm, but quickly turns serious and then continues his lecture.

"Before you can become a knight, you must know what a knight truly is. A soldier, most would say. A hero, if you ask kids. Monsters, even, if some stories are to be believed. But as knights, what we truly are– We're King Arthur's swords. Just as a sword serves to protect its knight and his people, knights serve to protect our King and his people. A knight, in the truest sense, is a sword. Knights are made in the same way as swords, as well. For a lump of metal to be transformed into a sword, it must go through an arduous process. First, it's heated to near melting and hammered into shape. Then, it's plunged into liquid to cool and harden it suddenly. Once that's been done, the blade is heated again and slowly cooled, and then finally it can be sharpened. If any of these steps are skipped, at best you get a bludgeon. Just like a sword, for one to become a knight they'll be pushed to nearly their breaking point, again and again, honed to a razor edge. Becoming a sword is an ordeal for a piece of steel, and becoming a knight is an ordeal for a human. Are you ready for this, Gareth?"

The girl nods somberly, and the man looks back with the barest hint of sadness in his eyes. Becoming a knight is an invitation for a tragic end, he knows this. He takes a breath, and then retrieves a pair of practice swords.

My dream probably lasts only minutes, but I spend the next few hours training. The foundation of Gareth's training is imparted to me as well, the basis of her experience is hammered into me just as thoroughly. For a few hours of her life, and a few hours into my mind, we have a shared experience of being gradually beaten into the start of a knight. Lancelot is a good lecturer, but he doesn't pull any of his strikes. I'm thankful that the swords are wooden, as was Gareth I'm sure. It seems with a sword smaller than his usual, he defers to a more dexterity oriented style, very suited to Gareth's small frame. He teaches her parries, dodges, ripostes, and a focus on using her bodyweight and momentum into her strikes. He's a brutal teacher, but Gareth picks it up incredibly quick. After 5 grueling hours, Lancelot finally lets the sweat-soaked girl free, and she heads toward the center of the encampment as I gradually awake.