Resident Evil Oneshots

Fencing pt. 2

The first light of dawn filtered through the narrow windows of the grand training hall, casting long, pale streaks across the stone floor. The castle was still and quiet, save for the faint rustling of leaves outside and the occasional distant creak of the ancient structure settling into the day. I stood in the centre of the hall, my heart pounding with a mixture of anticipation and nerves, the wooden practice sword gripped tightly in my hand.

It wasn't long before the silence was broken by the soft, measured sound of footsteps. Cassandra entered the hall with the same lethal grace that had always set her apart, her presence commanding the space as if it were her own personal domain. Her dark eyes were sharp and focused, and the air around her seemed to hum with an intensity that made my skin prickle.

"Good,"

Cassandra said, her voice cutting through the air like a blade as she approached.

"You're on time. Let's begin."

I nodded, my throat dry, the weight of what was about to happen settling over me like a heavy cloak. I had never trained one-on-one with Cassandra before, and the prospect was as thrilling as it was terrifying. There was no room for error, no safety net—only Cassandra's exacting standards and my determination to meet them.

"Show me your stance,"

Cassandra commanded, her tone leaving no room for hesitation. I quickly fell into what I hoped was the correct position, trying to remember everything I had observed from previous sessions. Feet shoulder-width apart, knees slightly bent, sword held in both hands with the tip angled just so. I could feel Cassandra's gaze on me, scrutinizing every detail, and it made my heartbeat faster, the nerves intensifying. Cassandra circled me slowly, her eyes narrowing as she took in my form. Without warning, she reached out and adjusted my grip on the sword, her fingers cool and firm.

"Too tight,"

she said curtly, pushing my hands into a more relaxed position.

"You're not strangling the weapon. It needs to move with you, not against you."

I nodded, trying to relax my grip, but it was difficult under the weight of Cassandra's expectations. She was so close, her presence so overwhelming, that it was hard to think clearly, let alone maintain the right posture.

"Your stance is off,"

Cassandra continued, tapping the inside of my leg with the toe of her boot.

"You're too rigid. If you don't loosen up, you'll be thrown off balance with the first strike."

Shifting my weight, trying to follow her instructions, but the correction only made me feel more awkward. I could sense Cassandra's disapproval in the silence that followed, and the weight of it pressed down on me like a physical force. Her eyes narrowed slightly, and she moved in closer, her voice low and intense.

"You need to focus, Y.N. If you can't even get your stance right, how do you expect to improve?"

The words stung, and I felt a surge of frustration mixed with self-doubt. I had known this would be hard, but hearing Cassandra's cold assessment made my insecurities bubble to the surface. Was I truly capable of meeting her expectations? Or was I doomed to fail before we even began? But before I could dwell too long on my doubts, Cassandra stepped back, her expression unreadable.

"Again,"

she ordered, her tone leaving no room for argument. Taking a deep breath, forcing myself to push the doubt aside, to focus on the task at hand. I adjusted my stance, trying to find the balance Cassandra demanded, to let the sword become an extension of my arm rather than a clumsy tool. Cassandra watched silently for a moment, then nodded once, barely perceptible.