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"Now, why would you think me of all people would willingly do a favor for you?"
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THE CLASH OF STEEL ECHOED THROUGH THE TRAING HALL, punctuated by the rhythmic shuffle of feet and the sharp intake of breath. Scarlett's focus was razor-sharp, her every move calculated as she parried and thrust, matching her opponent's agility with her own.
Across from her, her mother, Mulan, moved with a grace and precision that spoke of years of battle-hardened experience. Every motion was fluid, every strike deliberate. Scarlett felt the familiar mix of awe and excitement that always accompanied their sparring sessions.
"Keep your guard up!" Mulan instructed, her eyes never leaving Scarlett's. Scarlett adjusted her stance, blocking a swift strike aimed at her shoulder and countering with a rapid leap forward. Mulan met her blade effortlessly, their swords locked in a momentary stalemate.
Scarlett's muscles burned with exertion, but she refused to relent. Fencing was more than just a sport for her; it was a discipline, a way to channel her restless energy and sharpen her mind. The world outside the training facility, with its tangled web of relationships and responsibilities, faded into the background as she lost herself in the dance of combat.
With a quick maneuver, Mulan went left and striker from the right. Scarlett narrowly avoided a touch, her heart pounding with the thrill of the fight.
She grinned, adrenaline coursing through her veins. This was where she felt alive, every nerve tingling with the challenge of outwitting her opponent—especially, her war hero mother.
"You're getting faster," Mulan said, a note of pride in her voice. "But remember, it's not just about speed. Control your breathing, anticipate my moves."
Scarlett nodded, her focus unwavering. With renewed determination, she saw an opening and struck, her blade connecting with Mulan's chest guard. The buzzer sounded, signaling her victory. She stepped back, lowering her weapon and pulling off her mask, her face flushed with adrenaline.
