The sun has not yet broken through the clouds, yet the air already burns the lungs.
Eli strikes, pivots, cuts. Steel whistles. The clashes ring out like drums across the courtyard.
Sweat runs down her back, sticky and relentless. Her chest rises and falls too fast. Her sword still trembles in her hand.
— "No. That's not it… not yet… she mutters, the back of her neck soaked with sweat."
Every movement is too fast to be clean, too strong to be precise. Her legs buckle, her arms burn, and her breathing grows short, broken by the frantic rhythm of her heart.
She wants to match Anna. She wants to give everything.
She shakes her head.
— "That's not it."
Another strike, but it's too wide. Another one: too brutal. The fire always answers too fiercely.
— "Technically it's perfect, but I can't beat Anna with this."
She growls and wipes her forehead with the back of her arm. Her body is exhausted, but her mind refuses to stop. So she lets go of the sword. She nearly collapses onto the ground.
Enough, she says.
She walks forward without knowing where. Her feet carry her on instinct alone. The palace is quiet at this hour. Even the insects can be heard. The floors are spotless, the gardens meticulously maintained.
Then, music.
— "One, two, three."— "One, two, three."
Eli stops in front of a half-open door.
Inside, she finds Rias dancing.
Well… trying to.
His movements are correct now that he understands the formula of the dance. But it has become twice as mechanical. His feet find the floor without hesitation, his arms follow the lines they were taught. But everything is… empty. As if someone had taught a body how to move without ever explaining why.
The coach lets out a loud sigh.
— "No."
The ruler snaps against his palm.
— "You dance as if you're being punished."
Rias freezes.
It is the kind of fear seen in children who learned too early that resisting is useless. His fingers barely tremble. His shoulders close in on themselves, almost imperceptibly. He lowers his eyes. He apologizes without words.
Eli clenches her shirt.
She understands.
It's Anna again.It's always Anna.There's only Anna.
She is tired of watching Rias grieve over an Anna who is no longer there. Tired of thinking Rias does not spare even a single thought for her. Tired of suffering in front of this cursed door. She was about to leave, but…
The coach raises the ruler.
— "Unless you really want to be punished… Show me your hands."
Little Rias is terrified. He is about to hold out his hand when suddenly—
The door bursts open.
— "That's enough."
Eli's voice is low. Steady. It cuts through the room.
The coach turns around, startled.
— "But my lady, the session isn't over yet… he says, his voice shrinking."
— "Yes, it is, Elisabeth replies."
She steps forward. Her gaze does not waver.
— "When I say it's over, it's over."
The coach hesitates. Then looks away. He gathers his things and leaves the room like a beaten dog. The room becomes painfully empty. Silence returns awkwardly, almost embarrassed.
Rias had not moved.
— "Hey."
She walks closer. She doesn't touch him right away.
— "Are you okay?"
He nods. A polite lie. She knows him well enough not to push.
— "Come on."
She simply holds out her hand.
— "Let's get some air."
Rias hesitates for a second. But beside Eli, he feels small. Despite all his worries, he takes her hand.
In the hallway, he walks behind her. He still leans on her protection. He feels strangely free.
Free from the need to count his steps, perhaps.
Eli brings her younger brother near the river that sustains all the culture of the southern marquisate.
The river is cold.
Not hostile. Just honest.
It flows without caring about titles, lessons, or absences. The water slips over the stones as though the world had never demanded anything from anyone.
Eli pulls off her boots without thinking. She rolls up her pants, already damp with sweat. She steps in first. The water bites at her calves, making her grimace before she laughs despite herself.
— "This one's alive, she says."
Rias stops at the edge.
He watches for a long moment. As if he first needs to understand the river before entering it. Honestly, he is simply afraid. But under Eli's mocking stare, he finally removes his ballet flats as well. His graceful bare feet touch the water.
He flinches at first, which makes Elisabeth burst out laughing.
— "See? It only bites people who are too serious."
He moves forward. Slowly. The water wraps around his ankles, his calves, then his knees. His dress immediately grows heavier, dragged downward by the current. He hesitates.
— "Are you going to keep thinking, or are you coming?"
She splashes him on purpose. The water answers in a thousand flashes of light. Rias closes his eyes for a moment. Then he takes one step too many.
He slips.
Nothing serious. Just enough to lose his balance. Enough to forget to stand straight. Enough to feel free, without restraint.
Eli catches him by the arm. They almost fall together. Water splashes all the way up to their faces. It is freezing cold. It steals the breath from his lungs. And it pulls an involuntary laugh out of Rias.
A real one.
He stays there, sitting in the river, his hands soaked, his hair — now very long — stuck to his forehead. His laughter slowly fades, replaced by a quiet silence. He watches the water flow between his fingers.
— "It never stops… he murmurs."
— "Good, Eli replies. Otherwise we'd be stuck."
They stay there without speaking. The current does the work for them. It carries away the dust from the courtyard, the stiffness of the dance, the counted steps, the physical, mental, and emotional exhaustion.
Eli picks up a pebble. She throws it. It skips three times.
— "Your turn."
Rias hesitates. He chooses a stone that is too flat. It sinks immediately.
And he grimaces.
— "…I'm terrible at this game."
— "Wrong. You tried. You'd eventually succeed if you kept trying."
She sighs.
Then continues.
— "That's what I'm trying to do too."
Eli goes first again to show him. So Rias picks another stone. This time, it skips once. Then twice.
His eyes briefly light up. Eli notices. She says nothing.
They play. Badly. Well. It doesn't matter. The water does not judge.
The next day, Elisabeth resumes her training. Again and again. Haha.
The sun has not even pierced through the clouds, yet the air already burns her lungs.
Eli strikes, pivots, cuts. Steel whistles. The clashes echo like drums through the courtyard.
Again, the same comments:
— "That's not it… not yet… she sighs, the back of her neck drenched in sweat."
Always.
Every movement is still too fast, but this time cleaner; too strong, but this time more precise. Her legs buckle, her arms burn, and her breath comes short, broken by the frantic rhythm of her heart. Again and again, but she does not stop. She never stops.
Rias stands there, motionless at the edge of the field. He watches. Every twitch, every pivot. His fingers tighten slightly, his eyes shining with a concentration only his analytical mind could possess.
— I think, big sister, you have enormous magna reserves, and you make very good use of them, Rias says in his fragile voice.
— "…Ha… Yeah? And then what? she replies, amused."
— I can't imagine defeating Anna even if I managed to perfect the family's swordsmanship art, she adds, still smiling, though a little sadly.
— "Why is it so necessary to defeat Anna?"
She pauses for a moment. The teasing smile cracks slightly. Then she resumes her movements.
— "You're a boy. You don't know what it's like to need to be the best. Haha… You're too young for things like that. Just watch."
But Elisabeth does not know that Rias comes from a world where proving one's worth is far more than necessary. So now that he remembers it, he is left stunned by his own question: stupid, pointless.
Because power is necessary for survival. Simply that.
Rias's voice grows even weaker, and he begins to avert his gaze.
— "Have you ever tried prolonging the fight?"
— "That's impossible. If I let up for even half a second, I could end up seeing my head fall to the ground."
— "Glumse…"
And it's true. There is a very specific reason why Eli led the assault during her duel against Anna. Because if it were the other way around, any chance she had would instantly become zero.
But Rias insists.
— "Try it anyway. You know musical cadence, don't you? At its core, music is a loop of sounds. You add details, but the principle is never to break the rhythm."
— "What kind of nonsense is that?"
Rias grows a little nervous, but his excitement over the new idea is greater than his fear.
— "You lose some speed and ferocity, but you keep the advantage in magna reserves. In the long run, you would probably win against her."
Eli stops for a moment, hands on her knees, panting.
— "What? You think I can do better? she mocks, breathless but challenging."
This time, Rias actually steps forward. Geniuses naturally gain confidence the moment they begin explaining their ideas.
— "It's not always about the damage dealt to the opponent. It's about who remains at the end. So impose a rhythm on every battle."
She rolls her eyes.
— "And what would you know, little prince? You're teaching me now? You? You've never even seriously held a weapon!"
Rias suddenly feels embarrassed. He too begins thinking that perhaps he is not qualified to correct Eli. Timidly, he turns toward the main room. He tells himself he never belonged there in the first place.
That is when Eli suddenly feels bad about her reaction. She knows he is fragile, yet her exhaustion pushed her to lash out at him even more.
— "Why don't I just try his suggestions, anyway? It's not like I've got anything to lose… Arg…"
Eli shakes her head. She tries to picture the movement inside her mind.
A rhythm-based attack. Does he mean rotational movements like his dancing?
She thinks about Rias's dancing.
At first, she laughs.
— "This is ridiculous. Haha…"
But after a pause for thought, she begins constructing the movement. She remembers that Anna also spins a great deal while fighting: she never makes unnecessary movements; every drop of magna is carefully used, perfectly controlled; while her opponents waste enormous amounts of magna with every failed strike.
— "That's Anna's true genius: her control. Of course she can't concentrate forever, and her reserves are actually pretty modest."
She pauses again. Then frustration rises in her voice.
— "And when I think that bitch's element is wind… what a humiliation!... She has so many handicaps, and I still can't beat her."
So Eli resumes her training, following Rias's recommendation.
She tries. She corrects. She improves. She meditates…
— "Not bad… not bad at all, little firefly."
The redness in her cheeks burns like fire, not only from exertion, but from the joy of grasping something new. She pivots, strikes, slides, breathless but delighted.
— "That idiot Rias was actually right. Am I dreaming, or am I the only one lagging behind in this family? Damn it…"
That evening, when Rias and Elisabeth meet again in the corridors of the marquisate, Rias lowers his eyes even more than usual. He wishes he could pass unnoticed.
— "Hey! Sorry for not listening to you. You were right after all."
Without saying a word, Rias feels something fragile and rare: Eli's respect, but also the silent companionship that only sweat and effort can create.
Eli shakes her head and continues on her way toward rest — something she has not truly known in a very long time.