Hello! I apologize for the chapter mishap! I didn't realize it until someone pointed it out!
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Chat Noir's P.O.V
"What is it that you want?" I asked after landing on top of the Arc de Triomphe. Ladybug sat on the edge of the structure. She turned away from the view and over to me. She pats the empty spot next to her. I sigh, complying with Ladybug's offer and sat down beside her.
"Well," I urged, wanting to get this over with.
"I wanted to thank you," she finally spoke. I narrow my eyes at her, annoyance beginning to simmer within me. My nose flares and teeth clench tightly together. Is this all? All she wanted to do is thank me when she could have done so yesterday?!
"This was such a waste of time," I thought, bitterly.
"I want to thank you for saving my life and protecting me," she continued, "Rena told me you were the one who caught me when I fell from the building. Then, you protected me from that gremlin."
"It is my job," I heatedly replied.
"I understand that," Ladybug said before her tone of voice changed, "To be honest...I thought you were going to attack me."
My eyes widen, turning to look at her. She is staring out at Paris with a smile that did not fit her somewhat melancholy expression. I put on a blank-slated face, wondering why Ladybug would think such a thing. Sure, I dislike the very thought of her but I would do no such thing as to harm her.
"Why would you think I would hurt you?" I asked. Her smile turned into a grimace, images reflecting a past story through her eyes. She began to fiddle with her fingers. I slightly frown at this reaction. What past events has this girl been through?
"It is a bit complicated," the spotted heroine answered before returning to the main topic, "You dislike me for reasons that are unknown to me. I could not help but think you would hit me for a moment. So, I also apologize for the misunderstanding."
I wave it off, "There is no need for that."
There is more I want to say, yet it sticks to my tongue. Instead, I follow with something else.
"Is that all you wanted to tell me?" I asked, earning some hesitation from Ladybug. She bit the bottom of her lip before standing up and walking a foot away from the edge.
"There is one thing I would like to ask from you," she said. I tilt my head, both intrigued and displeased of whatever she could want. Letting out a sigh through my nostrils, I asked, "What is it?"
"Can you teach me how to sword fight?" She asked.
I blink for a second before letting out boisterous rounds of laughter. Tears began to form at the edges of my eyes and my stomach sore. Ladybug sword fighting? The idea is rather odd and ridiculous, especially when this Ladybug does not even know basic hand-to-hand combat. It is completely absurd!
It has been a while since I laughed like this. To be honest, it feels very nice to finally find the tiniest amount of joy in such bleak times.
"What is so funny, Chat Noir?" Ladybug asked, venom laced in her voice. Her arms are crossed and a glare is shot my way. I start to calm down before realizing she is being serious. I stop my fit and stare at her stunned.
"Wait, you are being serious?" I questioned.
"Of course, I am being serious," Ladybug said in a huff. Then, her mood melted away into a calmer state, "Can you please teach me how to sword fight?"
"Why the sudden request and how on earth do you know I can sword fight?" I asked. Plagg's feline trait of curiosity is rubbing off on me. I should not be asking so many questions. We cannot know each other's identities. Yet, I would like to know why she wants to learn how to sword fight from out of the blue.
"I watched your movements when you protected me from that gremlin. You perfectly performed Kenjutsu, a samurai sword fighting technique. Based on the form you used, I would say it is the Ko Gasumi form. A move to block your opponent from above the head before swiftly hitting the gremlin away," she explained, excitedly. I swear I could see stars glittering in those bluebell eyes.
She continued to ramble off about the other different techniques and sword fighting styles I used before she had escaped.
I gape in astonishment, not expecting a lowly leveled fighter to be this literately knowledgeable of sword fighting. She is spewing it out without stumbling over her words and making no errors in each description.
To put it simply in a few words, I am impressed.
"How is she able to remember each form I did then explain it?" I thought in amazement, "I can barely recall each form's name and the region it came from. I merely know the movements without any difficulty but it is probably due to muscle memory."
"Alright, I get it. You are very literate and know numerous things about sword fighting," I cut Ladybug off, standing up, "If you know so much, how come you want me to teach you?"
A ting of pink colored her cheeks in embarrassment. She sheepishly scratches her cheek without looking in my direction.
"Well..." she began, "While I am very knowledgeable in the art of sword fighting, I am lacking skill at executing the actions required. It is easier explained than actually doing it."
I did not say anything back, letting a grimace fall on my face. I understand what she means. Yet, I do not understand the difficulty. Sure, sword fighting does take skill and patience. Once you have practiced the movements and forms enough times, it is simply weaved into muscle memory.
I grab my baton and split it in half. I extend the two poles to doable sizes then hand one to Ladybug.
"Fight me," I simply spoke, "If you win, I will train you to sword fight. If I win, I will never teach you."
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Ladybug's P.O.V
"Has he gone daft?!" I thought, "I am not suitable enough to fight, much less fight a trained soldier!"
He held out the other half of his staff for me to take. I look at him as if he were a madman before switching to the held-out staff. I purse my lips in thought. I know this will be my only chance to learn how to sword fight.
Yet, the odds of winning are not in my favor. Not only is he already skilled with a weapon, he has also mastered his heightened abilities. I am still in basic training and have recently begun understanding how to swing from structure to structure.
This battle has been decided even before he offered.
Although, when have I ever let any of that stop me from trying?
Determination is flowing through my veins now. I grab ahold of the other end of the baton. Not only will I grasp this weapon in my hands but I will take this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I will give it my all to fulfill my dream.
I squarely meet his eyes and conjured up the most serious tone to tell him my choice, "I accept your challenge."
I see the slightest shift in Chat Noir's mood for an instant until continuing to hold a stoic expression. His only response is a firm nod before letting go of the other half of his silver pole. The blonde-haired hero walks a few feet away before turning around.
"We will be able to use any technique we wish to use. I assume you know the traditional way on how to begin a spar," Chat Noir said.
"Yes, I do," I answered, "You bow to show respect, good sportsmanship, and honor to your opponent for a good fight. It is also-"
"Refrain yourself from another long-winded explanation," Chat Noir stopped me with an irate voice. I shut my mouth, letting what we are about to do sink in. It has been years since I have had a spar with another person—my father.
He trained me in the depths of the mansion, away from mother's sight. Those days began to dwindle once I grew older. Father became busier with his work and mother's top priority was for me to become a lady had begun. I trained in secret, trying to keep what lessons I learned alive.
I only know a few basic forms but without help from a proper example, I am unable to learn the movements.
This is my last chance.
Chat Noir and I bowed to each other. I hold the baton like someone who wields a sword. My left hand toward the bottom while my right hand gripped above it. I arrange myself to the full front stance.
"Shoulders facing forward and front leg's knee is bent while the back is kept straight, I instructed myself inside my head, "Watch your opponent's moves and keep a tight grip on your weapon as to not lose it."
Just as I said that last part, my hands tightened on the baton before lunging at Chat Noir. It did not take much for him to block my attack, merely using one hand to hold his weapon while the other kept to his back.
"Fencing, fourth form," I thought, quickly to my next attack at his right side to which he blocked again with the third form. Our batons vigorously clash with me attacking and Chat blocking.
Every movement of our feet, one gracefully dancing and the other clumsily staggering. Every clanging noise produced from each hit. Every breeze from nearly being hit. Every swing. Every tactic. Every moment. Every close call.
Everything will decide the endgame, win or lose. Triumph or defeat. A chance is given to change and only I can make that change.
I just need to win somehow!
Our battle of attack and block continue for a minute until Chat gains the upper hand and pushes me. I stumble back but manage to swiftly regain my balance and take a fighting stance.
Chat let out a "hmph" noise before cockily walking toward me. I readied myself, holding back an eye roll at the obvious display of arrogance. I need to concentrate and focus. If he is overconfident, then I can use that to my advantage.
He attacks from above. I block high, the poles colliding again. Chat Noir's lips form into a devious smirk. I did not let it intimidate me, instead I begin to think of a solution to get out of this position. I am vulnerable in this form.
"Why do you not just give up? You and I both know you cannot win this," Chat Noir berated, pushing his baton down on mine. I glare at him and clench my teeth. My shaky arms are putting their all into pushing back, doing little to nothing. Sweat produces from my forehead and let out a few grunts.
"If you step down now, I will not humiliate you by bragging of my victory against the great Ladybug to the other rebels," Chat patronized. I hold in my irritation for this jerk.
"I am surprised his head has not grown from all the air inside it," I thought before finally coming up with a plan. I drop down onto a knee, raising Chat's ego some more.
"Any last words before your defeat?" he practically purred.
"I..." I began, trying to catch my breath, "I will..."
"You will what?" he mocked.
I smirk.
"Rule one of sword fighting," I said in the steadiest voice I could, "Never give up!"
I swing my leg that is not on the ground around and hit the back of Chat's knees. His legs buckle underneath him and fell on his rear end. Using this temporary opportunity to get the upper hand while Chat is phased, I got back onto my feet.
Chat tries to quickly sit up but is stopped halfway by the end of the baton I am using, pointing at Chat's chest. He snaps out of his stupor and looked up at me.
"Do not underestimate me, Minou," I proudly spoke, teasing him. Much to my confusion, his shock melts away and returns to that irritating grin.
"Rule number two," Chat said before speedily swinging his silver pole and knocking mine out of my grasp. My weapon clatters many feet away, leaving me unarmed. In the blink of an eye, Chat stands behind me and wraps an arm around my waist. His baton hovers near my neck, marking the victor of this spar.
"Always make sure your opponent is unarmed before claiming victory," he finished.
"That is not rule number two!" I argued back, "That is rule number ten!"
"Whatever rule it may be, it does not matter since the results are clear," Chat Noir scoffed, retracting his staff and shoved me a little. I glare at that sneaky feline going to retrieve the other half of his baton. A boiling rage and utter defeat simmer within me. My hands clench, holding in my twisting emotions.
"I...lost," I bitterly thought. Chat Noir returned to my side while reattaching his equipment. I did not dare look at him, wanting to curse him out for his trickery and cheap tactics.
Yet, he is right.
He won fair and square.
I was defeated.
Which means...
Taking in a deep breath, I try to calm myself down. I will not be sad and petty about my loss. It is a devastating feeling when I was so close to achieving a chance to become a sword fighter. Yet, I have to face the music.
"It looks like I can brag to the others about my excellence," Chat Noir mused.
"Do not punch him. Do not punch him. Do not punch him. I am the bigger person here," I repeated in my head, frustrated. Chat Noir went silent for a moment, making me wonder if he has already left. I did not much care.
"Two nights from now at the same time we met today. If we do not have an Akuma, we will start training so do not be late."
I perk up in disbelief at his words and shot around to look at him. Is he being serious? Why would he say that? I lost the spar. I lost my chance. So, why is he saying this? Is this a sick joke?
But I see this particular look of genuineness etched in his features. He is being serious.
"But...I lost," I said, stupefied.
"And I am offering it to you on a silver platter. You take it or do not. It makes no difference to me," he explained, carelessly shrugging his shoulders. I tilt my head to the side, "What made you change your mind?"
Chat Noir let out a long sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose, "If you are just going to stand there and waste my time, I will just take my leave-"
"Yes!" I quickly answered, "Yes, I will see you then!"
With that, Chat Noir left me standing in shock.
Once the shock ran dry, a rush of excitement and happiness burst. I giddily jumped, pumping a fist into the air. My smile could not be wiped off my lips. I have not felt this thrilled in a long time. I did not think about why Chat Noir changed his mind. The only thing on my mind is an overdose of joy and impatience for the night after tomorrow.
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Gabriel's P.O.V
"Have you found anything?" I questioned, "Any news of those wretched demons?"
"I have not found anything so far but I will keep looking," my best hunter replied through the phone. I frowned, eyebrows knitted in anger. My patience is running thin.
"Listen, you better find them or I will have you fill in their shoes instead," I threatened, venomously. The person on the other side of the phone pauses in silence before speaking.
"I am not afraid of you, Mr. Agreste," my hunter hung up on me. I glare down at my telephone before slamming it on the receiver. I curse over my stubborn hunter, earning a side look from my assistant. I turn in my chair and moodily stare at the giant painting of my missing wife, Emily Agreste.
"I am sure it will all work out, sir," Nathalie reassured me. I narrow my eyes.
"It better."
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