The Disciple’s Disciple (3)

1.

“Haa…!”

Yohan sighed and collapsed onto the ground.

He was drenched in sweat as if he’d been caught in a downpour.

Even his underwear was damp.

“Let’s stop here for today.”

The Saintess untied her long hair.

Golden hair, imbued with moonlight, cascaded down.

Yohan was panting heavily.

In contrast, the Saintess’s breathing was perfectly calm.

This was further proof that Yohan’s attacks posed no threat to the Saintess.

“You’re improving.The Saintess nodded her head, hmm hmm.

Yohan shook his head inwardly.

Those words were meant as comfort.

Also, words of pity.

Two weeks had passed since he began receiving instruction from the Saintess.

How much had Yohan improved during that time?

Incredibly.

He hadn’t made any progress at all.

He was standing still.

Leaving aside Mana Control, he hadn’t even managed to brush the Saintess’s sleeve with his fist.

He was truly pathetic.

He felt sorry for the Saintess, who sparred with him every single day without fail.

Even so, the Saintess smiled and told him he was improving.

…Should I just quit?

Yohan felt sorry for the Saintess.

He worried that he was wasting her precious time.

However, that concern was fleeting.

The Saintess hadn’t given up, so it would be even more regrettable for him to give up first.

“Saintess.”

Yohan stood up.

“Yes?”

The Saintess, who was about to return to the dormitory, turned her head back.

“Would you spar with me just one more time?”

Yohan staggered as he stood.

His whole body screamed in protest.

The areas where he’d been struck during the sparring session throbbed.

“It’s good to be motivated, but too much is not good.”

“Please, just one more time for tomorrow’s class.”

“Class?”

“I have a sparring evaluation in Swordsmanship practice tomorrow, so I want to get a little more used to sparring.”

The Saintess crossed her arms.

Her voluminous breasts rested on her arms.

“Hmm…”

She looked into Yohan’s eyes.

Blue flames flickered in his pupils.

The Saintess gave a faint smile.

Seeing that smile, Yohan hoped for a positive answer.

“No. That’s enough for today.”

The Saintess shook her head with a smile on her face.

“It’s late, and if you have an evaluation tomorrow, you should go back and rest.”

The Saintess began to lecture him on the importance of managing his condition.

Yohan looked dejected.

He thought of his sparring partner for tomorrow.

Yuriel Van Skolhart, the second-ranked student in the Swordsmanship department.

He would be facing her again, the one he fought in the entrance exam.

She had nominated him first.

The result was already clear.

It would likely be similar to the last time.

He would experience the overwhelming difference in skill once again.

To narrow that gap even a little, he needed to train more.

The way for a mediocre talent to match a genius.

Only through effort.

“Don’t worry.”

The Saintess approached Yohan.

“Brother Yohan, you have improved.”

The Saintess, standing on tiptoe, patted Yohan’s head.

A gentle touch.

A warm energy spread from the crown of his head to his entire body.

It was Divinity.

The fatigue in his body washed away.

This was the first time.

The first time he had received healing after training.

Usually, she would tell him to review today’s training and not heal him.

The Saintess’s small hand fell from his head.

“Do your best tomorrow.”

The Saintess cheered Yohan on.

It was a truly grateful thing to say, but…

He couldn’t take it as comfort.

2.

The next day.

Yohan dragged his tired body toward the Swordsmanship training grounds.

Last night, even after the Saintess’s training ended, Yohan had continued to train alone. Until sunrise.

He arrived at the Swordsmanship training grounds.

There was soft grass and a stadium in the center where they could spar.

The students were gathered in groups of three or five, chattering noisily.

All of them were first-year students in the Swordsmanship department.

It had been a little over a month since they had entered the academy.

The students were still excited about academy life.

The students were gathered in several groups.

It wasn’t something that anyone had organized.

They had formed groups by gathering with people they got along with.

Yohan glanced around the training grounds.

He saw a familiar face.

A white-haired girl with a faint pink hue.

The girl was wiping her sword on a bench in a sunny part of the training grounds.

Yohan approached the girl.

“Hello, Yohan.”

The girl, noticing Yohan approaching ten steps away, greeted him with a gentle smile.

Estelle Tarask.

The first friend he had made after entering the academy.

Estelle wiggled her butt and made room next to her.

Tap, tap.

As if to say this was his seat, Estelle tapped the spot next to her with her palm.

Yohan sat next to Estelle.

“You’re here early today?”

He barely avoided being late, but ever since he started receiving training from the Saintess, Yohan had been oversleeping every morning without fail.

It was only natural, since he was using up all his stamina all night.

“Hmm?”

Leaning her upper body, Estelle, who was next to him, brought her face close to Yohan.

Yellow eyes, like forsythia, looked up at Yohan.

It was close enough that their breaths mingled.

A sweet fragrance permeated his sense of smell.

It was the scent of ripe apples.

“Wh-what is it…?”

As much as Estelle leaned forward, Yohan leaned back.

“Did you stay up all night?”

Estelle tilted her head.

“How did you know?”

“Under your eyes.”

Estelle tapped under his eyes with her finger.

“Ah…”

Fatigue hung under his eyes like a weight.

That fatigue must be stained black.

“I understand. It’s only natural that you can’t sleep when your opponent is who she is.”

Yohan laughed awkwardly.

Today’s goal wasn’t victory.

Of course, it would be nice to win, but it was realistically impossible.

So, his goal was to land at least one successful attack.

“But did you do something wrong to Yuriel?”

“No.”

“Really?”

Estelle tilted her head as if she was doubtful.

“Then why is she staring at you so menacingly?”

Estelle pointed behind Yohan with her finger.

Yohan turned around.

A little further away, Yuriel was watching him.

No, she was glaring at him as if he were her enemy.

Whoosh!

The moment their eyes met, Yuriel turned her head away.

Even so, she glanced back and glared again.

A cold chill flowed in Yuriel’s eyes.

“…Did I really do something wrong?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

No matter how much he thought about it, there was nothing that could have caused such animosity.

In the first place, they didn’t usually talk.

They were just acquaintances who knew each other’s faces and names.

That’s why he couldn’t understand why Yuriel was glaring at him as if he were her enemy.

“Think hard. Did you touch Yuriel’s chest or something?”

“What nonsense are you talking about?”

“I think it’s possible. You always glance at my chest, too.”

Naturally, Yohan’s eyes went to Estelle’s chest.

Not as much as the Saintess’s.

But it was quite firm and plump.

“Wh-wh-what nonsense are you talking about?!”

Before being a disciple of the Hero, as a virile young man, it was only natural to be interested in a woman’s breasts. It was also an instinctive desire to want to fondle pretty, voluptuously swollen breasts at least once.

But he kept that desire as just a desire.

No matter how much he wanted to fondle them, he had never actually done it.

“I’m just kidding~”

Estelle chuckled.

She said it was a joke, but it didn’t seem like one.

“Anyway, good luck.”

“Yeah… thanks.”

“They said we’re sparring with Wooden swords today, so there’s no risk of your arm being cut off.”

“Instead, I’ll probably get beaten like a dog.”

It hadn’t even started yet, but his whole body was already starting to ache.

“It’s a good thing we can get treatment right away today without having to go all the way to the temple.”

“Huh? Why?”

“I heard from the professor this morning that the Theology department is coming in person. They said the Saintess is coming too.”

“The Saintess too?”

His worries grew even bigger.

To have to show his unsightly appearance to the Saintess.

Not only that, but his heart was pounding at the thought of the Saintess being disappointed in him for not having improved at all.

“Haa…”

Yohan sighed deeply.

3.

Class began.

Sparring proceeded in order, as organized in the previous class.

“Yuriel Van Skolhart! Come up to the arena!”

Hearing Professor Erek’s shout, Yuriel came up to the arena.

Following behind her, Yohan went up.

Yohan held out his trembling hand.

“Please take care of me.”

Yuriel only glanced at Yohan’s hand and refused to shake it.

“I hope you don’t disappoint me this time like you did during the entrance exam.”

Cold words thrown out casually.

Even if he approached her kindly, Yuriel was as sharp as an icicle.

“I’m not expecting much.”

Then why did you nominate me!

He wanted to argue, but he held it in.

It was only natural not to expect much.

It hadn’t been long since the entrance exam.

It hadn’t even been two months, so what big changes could have happened in that time?

“Each of you to the end of the arena.”

Yohan to the left.

Yuriel to the right.

“Haa… Hoo…”

Yohan took a deep breath and gripped the Wooden sword in his hand.

The students were watching with interest.

They seemed to already know the result.

Unlike Yuriel, they weren’t expecting anything and seemed to be enjoying imagining how the Hero’s disciple would be broken this time.

If Yohan wasn’t the Hero’s disciple, they wouldn’t have been interested at all.

Still.

Let’s do our best.

Yohan felt one gaze among the many.

There was a girl watching him from the audience seats of the training grounds.

The Saintess, Elia.

Even if his bones broke, it would be worth it to show his other teacher a slightly less embarrassing appearance.

Yohan looked at the opposite side.

Yuriel, glaring at him with cold eyes.

The Sword Dance was aimed straight at him, as if she would charge at any moment.

As they exchanged glances like that.

“Start!”

The sound announcing the start of the sparring echoed through the arena.

Before that echo could fade.

Yuriel’s body shot out.

The black Wooden sword cut through the air.

Golden eyes left afterimages.

Moving faster than the storm of the North, she thrust the Wooden sword toward Yohan’s solar plexus.

She didn’t really intend to stab him.

Even though it was a Wooden sword with a blunt end, it could cause serious injury if it pierced a vital point.

So, she planned to dig in deeply and then change the Sword Path.

The students thought it was over when they saw Yuriel’s movement.

It was her victory.

Until Yohan’s Wooden sword blocked Yuriel’s Wooden sword with a ttak.

Yuriel blinked her eyes.

Yohan also blinked his eyes.

They both had the same thought.

‘‘How did I block that?’’

Recalling the feeling from just now, Yohan inadvertently blurted out his honest impression.

“…Slow.”