Edema Rue

“Is that your best?” Teacher spat to the side. “Barely two minutes. I expect more from you.”

“I can’t,” Nite whispered, preparing himself for a hit, or the unnatural pain that came when Teacher was most angry. Neither arrived.

“Who taught you to say that?”

“What?”

“Who taught you to say you can’t?”

“I don’t understand.”

“I didn’t teach you to quit. I didn’t teach you weakness. Did someone else, or do you think you can learn on your own, that you don’t need me any longer?”

Nite swallowed. “Your dragon is too powerful, Teacher. Maybe if I knew your secret way of taming…” the words were bitter in his mouth. Even as he said them, he knew they were wrong. 

“Look at me,” Teacher said. Nite did. The man was tall and haughty and proud. Fluid movements and a pair of thin swords. “You don’t have my permission to die, and so there is never a reason for you to give in. I expect you to put your chin up, wipe the sweat out of your eyes, and take the next step. You’ve done worse than this. You’ve done worse than this a hundred times over. Who gave you the right to let it beat you?”

Nite swallowed. “Nobody, Teacher.”

“Then get up and fight. I will not be so lenient if this happens again.”

“Thank you, Teacher.”