Chapter 12 ❆ Dance of the Dragons

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Eren was a determined learner. I could not give her credit for talent, but she was definitely a willing and a hard worker.

As I showed her my understandings of the Movement of the Seven Dragons, she slowly but surely became more aware of her mistakes. Eren did not have an eye for techniques—she didn't know where or why she was failing at all. Simply put, she lacked self-awareness for this stuff. She needed someone else to help point out why she was failing.

"See, Eren, you must first stabilize yourself before you make that turn," I said. "If you misstep, you really will fall flat on your face!"

She looked at me from the ground, pained. "I...I'm okay."

Maun sat on the side, watching us two cluelessly.

At some point, the boy had probably gotten bored with the redundancy of Eren's failed attempts that he took out a small carving knife from his pocket and plucked a twig from the floor. He started chipping away on the piece of wood and slowly got absorbed into the repetition.

I crossed my arms and sighed, waiting for Eren to pick herself up. "How do you keep falling anyway?" I asked. "After all, you make those really hard turns when you..."

An idea popped into my head.

Maybe Eren was just one of those kids who had really bad trouble doing the things they didn't like? Perhaps it wasn't her lack of self-awareness, but her subconscious low-key resisting the training and comprehension?

I scratched my head and thought for a moment.

I wasn't an expert so I wouldn't know how to integrate the two disciplines together. Martial arts and dancing could be two wholly different things...but the difference between them shouldn't be black and white. Rather, there were gradients in between. They would have this Venn diagram going on with the similarities.

I suppose it would have already been established that they were both a form of expression. Nonetheless, the core difference would rely on the purpose—dancing was meant for performance and entertainment and martial arts, though it could be used for performance as well, was more interactive and tailored with a partner.

But wasn't that what dancing also was?

So, was it safe to assume there really wasn't that big of a difference? Then, it wouldn't be impossible to figure out just how to make Eren think the two were the same.

Do I do those viral Taekwondo videos like back on Earth where they do choreography with technique execution?

I did train a good few years under Mistress Neilly. I wouldn't say I was graceful with the execution part...but I still learned a good chunk. I rarely put things to use anyhow, so I wasn't sure if I would be able to do this well. To blend two disciplines together, one had to have enough knowledge of the two.

I didn't think I had that sort of ability.

It was better to try though, wasn't it?

"I have an idea," I told Eren.

"What is it?" she asked, looking depressed.

"Don't look so down. I think there' might be a way to go about this. You just...have to think that the Movement of the Seven Dragons as a dance!" I said, smiling at her sheepishly and shrugged.

"A dance?"

"That's right. Martial arts and dancing."

"I don't know, Evy. I'm getting even more confused now."

"Look, Eren," I began. "I'm not as good as you when it comes to dancing."

"How can you say that? Mistress Neilly always talks about you when she teaches me," she said.

I felt mildly curious at that, but I sort of expected something else. "About what? How bad I am?"

"No." She shook her head. "Mistress Neilly said that you're just too self-critical and pessimistic. You don't have the passion to develop yourself because you're already convinced you're bad at things—like you let yourself be held back by it. She said you might not view yourself as graceful as she had been, but that's because, to reach that stage, you have to put in a lot of hard work."

I was dumbfounded. I was aware of my tendency towards pessimism and the self-criticalness that she was talking about. Nonetheless, her telling me about Mistress Neilly pulled all those memories back and shoved them at the forefront of my attention. I couldn't help but recall my much younger years in Venerya and how different things were now.

This arrangement should be temporary at best, but I wondered at times when I'd get to see everyone together once more.

Though, with my mother gone, the picture would probably never be complete.

But, really, Mistress Neilly. Really. What kind of bullcrap are you putting in Eren's head?

"Evy, no one is good at anything when they try it first...I mean...maybe Maun is an exception..." she trailed off bitterly. "Anyway, she said that maybe you don't want to do the things the mistresses do...because you think they're in a place you'll never reach. But you should see yourself when you dance. You only ever see your failures, never your success. Why are you always so dissatisfied?"

I shook my head. "How'd it come to this conversation? I was talking about talent. You have more talent than I do," I told her. "You should've seen yourself, Eren."

"I like dancing because the maids said my mother danced the most beautiful routines when she was still strong. I never got to see that except when I was very young...and the memories I have had faded so far that I don't think I remember it clearly anymore," she said. "When I saw Mistress Neilly, everything about my mother came back to me. It felt like I could be much, much closer to her if I knew how to dance."

I watched Eren's shoulders slump forward as she talked about her mother, yet how her smile ironically seemed to reach the stars that very moment. The mix of sadness and happiness warred over her before she lifted herself and straightened her back once more—giving me that dumb grin.

"I'm just saying, if you try to see people on the heights they have already reached, then you'll only ever feel small. What you have to do is learn from their process, go behind the stage and see the heights they needed to climb to get where they are. Take each step-by-step and carve new ones that fit you just right. That's how we all grow. I don't think there's a place that's impossible for me when I try hard enough! It'll probably just take me longer than everyone else."

I put a hand on my waist and tipped my head to the side as I looked at her. "How did this even become you lecturing me when I'm supposed to be teaching you?"

"They say learning is a never-ending process. Both teacher and student have something to show one another—so long as both sides listen."

"Okay, fine." I threw in the towel. If I talked about this anymore, I might just cry. And I didn't want to cry.

"You know I'm still older than you, right?" she asked, approaching me and patting me on the head—purposely spiting me even more perhaps, as though she literally hammering the fact into me. I rarely showed or acted on my vulnerabilities, but she had come very close to making me break down into tears. I didn't know if that was obvious, but she seemed like she was prodding me to go over that edge.

Her talk of a while ago reminded me of all the good things I had lost. All the good things I had taken for granted. Again.

Humans were such ungrateful creatures—me included.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and shook my head. "Leave it, Eren."

"I may be bad at things, but I can give you advices you've never heard."

I caught Maun nodding in agreement from the side. It seemed that he had paused from carving and was listening in on our conversation. He held the tree branch on one side and the knife on the other and vigorously waved both whenever he moved to agree.

I deadpanned.

"It's not too late!" she exclaimed. "You can always call me téa."

"I'm not calling you that."

"Come on. I'm technically a sister to you. And I'm older. So, call me téa. Come on, it's not that hard!"

"Nooooooo. I shall not acknowledge it!" I pushed her wrist to the side and growled. "Now do not pet me like an animal!"

"Stop growling like one then! Come on, dance with me." She hooked her arm around mine.

"Nooooooo. I don't want to." I tried pulling away, but she held me still.

"Now you're the one acting like a kid."

"And we're supposed to be practicing martial arts."

"You told me I should think of it as a dance. You know dancing better than me! You trained in it more than I did!"

Maun clapped. He nodded eagerly, signing, "Dance! Dance!"

"You shut it!" I shot at him.

He stopped and gave me a big grin. "Please?" He signed to me. "You never show me or Eren anything."

"Come on, Evy. Who knows, maybe you'll come to some enlightenment or something when you dance?" Eren urged.

I sighed, my refusal starting to crack with their insistence. "I don't really want to embarrass myself, you guys."

"You won't! We won't laugh!" Eren held up a hand, giving me her promise.

"Okay, then. If you do, you two are my slaves."

I took a deep breath and got into the first position of the only routine from Mistress Neilly that I ever learned properly. Of those ten or nine years of being taught I tipped my hand to the sky, curving it above my head. My wrist was bent down to a curve as I pointed my chin high and made my neck tall. I curled my fingers to form a crescent moon while I lowered my other hand to lift the light fabric of an imaginary dress.

Dance of the Dragons. Mistress Neilly's favorite and strongest routine. She only ever performed it during very special occasions. I didn't think I would be able to portray the dance as well as she had, then again...I knew I wasn't bad. I just felt like I would embarrass myself considering Eren clearly had the talent for it.

Though, indeed, what Eren said was true.

If there was a lucky b*tch in this world, it was me. I got to live under the tutelage of nine, beautiful and talented mistresses. They had unconditionally imparted their knowledge to me and I was being unfilial by doubting my own abilities. How could I be a failure with all those wonderful, accomplished women as my teachers?

I was being such a disgrace by not having faith.

I was aware there was no music, so I tuned in to the beat I had recorded in my mind—of those dress rehearsals I had come to watch many times. Of the many melodies that I had heard those many years, what left a pang in my chest the most was my mother's flute.

I imagined a beat. A soft thump accompanied by a rainmaker. It wasn't strong but it was firm with intent.

With the sound tinkling in my mind, I slowly brought my hand down, inclining my body to the side as it lowered. My imaginary dress was lifted in turn, creating the image of a seesaw. Bending my knees, I made the last descent before sharply making a turn, throwing my head back as my hand spiraled back to the first point.

The dragons would descend and ascend in a pattern parallel to the serpent. With the agreement of day and night in place, harmony was allowed on the realm.

This dance demanded a lot of strength from the dancer. In turn, it didn't demand as much grace needed for its softer and more mellow counterpart. Movements were big, embracing, and open. The arms would try to hold the world. The legs would make the largest leaps and the biggest strides.

I heard from my mistresses that this dance would suit a guy more than a girl and they weren't wrong. I wouldn't be counted on to be a graceful swan, but I'd happily be a snapping crocodile in the swamp—if that even made sense.

As I got absorbed in inlaying the story in my mind. I realized the energies—the domains—had thickened around me considerably, as though to watch. This was the second time I was able to successfully draw them to me.

When Amber said I knew the language of the cosmos, he wasn't kidding.

Maybe integrating dancing and martial arts wasn't an impossible feat after all.

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