“You know, now that I think about it, you still owe me a fencing rematch,” states Francis.

“Well, I’ve been waiting,” replied Chris, now eager for the rematch.

“Hey, what about me? I don’t just want to watch,” remarked Heather.

“Well, you can be my warm-up partner,” stated Chris.

“Well, we need to finish breakfast first.”

After the three ate breakfast, they made their way to the equipment room. Chris chose his unusual black uniform and sabre. Francis assisted Heather in fitting her with a white fencing uniform. As the two proceeded to the strip, Francis yelled something to Heather, “Hey! Not that you know how to respond to it, but Chris has a rather unusual fighting style.”

Heather turned around in response, “Thanks, I’ll try my best.”

“I expect nothing less,” remarked Chris.

They both took their places on the mat. Heather stood with her sabre in her right hand in front of her. Chris however stood like he was preparing to run a race leading with his left side and his sabre held sideways behind him. Francis asked both parties if they were ready, both nodding in agreement.

Francis dropped his arm, signaling the start of the match. Without a second thought, Heather dashed towards Chris. Chris lowered his stance, watching Heather’s moves closely. Heather moved to aim for Chris’ chest, then thrust the sabre forward. Chris rotated the sabre in his hand so that the blade was now facing his wrist. He swung at Heather’s blade, striking it, moving her blade out of the way. Now with his back to her, he thrust his sabre behind him, striking Heather in the chest.

Francis raised his hand on Chris' side. Chris had won.

"Wow! That was fast. I didn't get much time to think," said Heather, still trying to catch her breath.

"Hey Chris, we're still using the real ones right."

"You bet! I've been waiting three months for this!” exclaimed Chris.

Francis turned around and opened a door to an unlit room, calling out. “Hey Chris, you want the same one as always?”

“What do you think?” Chris retorted.

“What do you mean by real ones?” asked Heather with a confused look on her face. She put two and two together to realize what that meant. “No! I can’t allow you to use actual swords!” Heather’s voice changed now from confusion to fear.

“Don’t you worry about us. Besides, these swords have blunt edges,” said Francis, carrying two scabbards containing swords. One was blue with gold trimming while the other was black with silver trimming and a leather strap that connected the top to the bottom. Francis handed the sword in the black scabbard to Chris saying, “You are the only person I know who prefers to wear a sword on your back.”

“It makes me look badass,” said Chris, removing his mask and slinging the scabbard over his back,

“Please be careful you two.”

“No promises,” the two boys said in unison, but Francis continued, “Just remember that this is payback.”

The boys both took their places in the arena. Chris unsheathed his sword and entered the same position as before, the low runner stance with the sword behind him. Francis standing at the other side of the arena spun his sword in a figure-8, stopping it above his shoulder with the tip of his blade pointed at Chris.

Heather walked to the edge of the arena towards the middle of where they were standing and raised one hand. After a few seconds, she quickly threw her hand down signaling the start of the match, but no one moved. A few more seconds go by.

“Did you not see m-” Heather started.

“Shhhhhhhhh” sounded Francis without moving his head. They both stood there waiting. No one knew what for, but after around a minute, Chris lowered his sword a little. He was getting tired of keeping his stance. Francis, seeing this, lunged forward, swinging his sword in a downward motion, aiming for Chris’ right shoulder.

Chris responded with an upward motion, blocking the blow, sending a shower of sparks everywhere. He re-angled his sword, now aiming for Francis’ hip. Francis jumped back, using his sword to push Chris’s sword past him. Using the momentum he gained from Francis’ block, Chris spun around to strike Francis in the same spot. Francis moved his sword to intercept the strike, sending another shower of sparks everywhere.

The two continued striking at each other and blocking every shot. Sparks went everywhere. The sound of metal clashing rang out. The rhythmic dances of the swords continued for minutes with no side showing any weaknesses. When one boy looked like he had an advantage, the other would power through. Heather no longer looked worried for the boys’ lives, but she watched in amazement, hypnotized by the boys’ elegant style of fighting.

With two loud yells, the two swords met, spewing sparks. The two swords seemed inseparable. Chris’s serious attitude has now changed back to his old cocky attitude. He slid his right foot around the back of his left foot. With a loud yell, he pushed back Francis’ blade, stepped back with his left foot rotating his body swinging his sword into the side of Francis’ hip.

Francis screamed out in pain as he fell to the floor. Heather quickly dropped to the floor where the teen lay there clutching at his side.

“What the hell was that for!” scolded Heather.

“Don’t worry, he’ll be fine, it’s like getting shot in the chest while wearing a police vest. It only knocks the wind out of you and gives you a bruise.”

“W-well, I-I’ve nev-never seen any-thing l-like th-that,” said Francis, breathing heavily, still in pain. He managed to remove the gear and lift his shirt, revealing a large red and black mark just above his hip. “That will be healed by tomorrow morning.”

“Like hell it will,” said Chris in disbelief.

“Anyways, Can you h-help me back to my room, I’m gonna lay down for a while.”