Unknown Happen Stance

Chapter 56: Don't Bury Yourself In Regret Moments Easily Lost Pass

The Auradon Prep gym echoed with the rhythmic thud of basketballs and the squeak of sneakers.  Mal, however, ignored the usual chaos, her focus sharp as she approached Chad Charming, who was practicing his swordsmanship.  A challenging smile played on her lips; she didn't particularly like Chad, but she recognized the potential for mutual benefit in a training partnership.

"Hey, Chad Charming," Mal said, her voice casual yet direct. "Why don't you teach me how to swing a sword? Hope, I'll never have to use it, but it's an essential skill here in Auradon."

Chad, surprisingly receptive, wiped sweat from his brow.  "All right, I'll train you with all the necessary moves, Mal. I do need a new training partner; the other guys here are so stale in technique, it makes me bored and lonely...full of regret."

Mal picked up one of the practice swords, her fingers testing the weight.  "Each moment spent in regret is a moment lost," she stated, a philosophical undercurrent in her voice,  a slight echo of her mother's wisdom, but shaped by her own experiences.

Chad nodded, impressed by her perceptive observation.  "Right you are, Mal. Helmet on, visor down, ready position. And listen to my coaching—don't speak, just listen until the end of the first round."

Mal, without hesitation, selected a helmet, securing it firmly in place. The visor dropped, obscuring her purple hair, revealing only her determined expression. She hefted the sword, her stance naturally poised. "I am ready to learn, Chad Charming," she said, her voice muffled but resolute.

Chad, admiring her readiness, began the lesson. "First, the grip... remember to keep your wrist firm, but relaxed.  Don't tense up; you need fluidity, not rigidity. Imagine the sword is an extension of your arm, a part of you."

He demonstrated the basic stance, footwork, and a series of simple parries and thrusts, each movement precise and controlled. Mal watched intently, her gaze never wavering, absorbing every detail. Chad meticulously broke down the techniques, explaining the underlying principles of balance, leverage, and timing. Mal eagerly repeated the moves, initially stiff, then gradually growing more fluid, her movements becoming coordinated and confident.

"Good," Chad approved after observing several repetitions. "Now, let's add some dynamism.  Remember the footwork is crucial: a step forward, a shift in weight, creates both momentum and power. Don't just swing, be strategic—anticipate."

He demonstrated a series of more advanced techniques incorporating footwork, speed and agility—a counter-attack using a swift riposte, deflecting a blow while initiating an advance.  Mal, despite initial struggles, was fast learner absorbing the instruction.  Her initial stiffness gave way to a surprising grace, each movement sharper, more deliberate.

"Very good," said Chad, a grin spreading across his face, noticing Mal's progress.  "You have a natural talent for it, Mal. That inherent aggression does lend itself to this well."

Mal, wiping sweat from forehead, smiled under the helmet's visor.  "I appreciate the compliment but aggression without control is futile.  Thanks, Chad."  She continued to practice, the sounds of steel clashing against steel filling the gym, the quiet intensity of her concentration palpable against the backdrop of other athletic activities. This unexpected partnership was proving to be fruitful, pushing both Chad and Mal firmly out of their comfort zones, and showing off their shared capacity for learning.

Chad raised his sword, signaling the start of their first sparring match. "Remember everything I taught you," he said, his voice low and serious. "Control, precision, strategy. Don't just attack; defend, and counter."

Mal mirrored his stance, her own sword held steady, her eyes locked on his, a predatory intensity hidden behind the visor of her helmet. The air crackled with anticipation.  Chad moved first, a swift lunge, his sword aimed at her chest.  Mal reacted instantly, a counter-parry deflecting his assault, the swords meeting with a sharp clang.  She followed with a quick riposte, her sword aimed at his flank. Chad, anticipating her response, blocked deftly.