And it was wielding his dagger that he won that battle, with that quick and precise strike for victory. Everything seemed to have calmed down at that moment, but he wouldn't have time to rest, for another creature had just appeared.
"Why did you close the book?" I asked, wanting to know the rest.
"You'll know the rest of the story later. Now go to sleep—tomorrow morning you have training, and right after that we'll need to take care of our plantation. We'll be harvesting some fruits tomorrow," my father said, standing up from the chair next to my bed.
My father kissed my forehead, wished me goodnight, and then left the room. I, at nine years old, was there without even imagining what was about to happen in our lives—just another night waiting to hear the rest of my father's story and preparing for the next day.
It's been a week since everything happened. I completely lost my diary, so I'll be rewriting at least the most recent events, because it's something I must never forget. I will keep my mother's teachings and customs, always writing everything about life in a diary. I just wish I could write as well as she does, but I promise to keep improving with time.
Every morning, my father and I practiced sword fighting—that's been the case since I was seven. I always wondered why I had to learn this so early, and he would just say it was for my safety. As always, before sleeping, I wrote in my diary about how my day had been, because my mother said we must preserve our memories and that writing is a great way to also keep our feelings from that moment. Not long passed until I finally fell asleep—and again, those strange dreams about a war between all kingdoms. I guess all those stories and adventures my father told me messed with my head, although I always find it very fun.
It had barely dawned when I was woken by a knock on the door—dry, single, and light, but enough to be heard.
"Good morning! Ready for your adventure?" my father asked, knocking on the door while holding one of his wooden swords. "Today will be busier; it seems the village is quite restless."
I got up with the least enthusiasm in the world, as every day. If I could, I'd sleep until noon, but as soon as the laziness passed, I thought about the amazing day I'd be missing. I quickly took a bath. In the kitchen, I had breakfast with my parents, then went to the front of the house with my two swords. At first, I didn't even like it and complained about the pain after training, but later it became quite fun—even though I ended up pretty sore.
Not long after, we were finally in a field right in front of the house, surrounded by a few small and some grand trees with a large space between them. It was perfect for our training, but we couldn't stay long that day because we had to take care of the plantation closer to the house, and my father also said the day would be quite busy. I positioned my two swords, one in each hand, and looked at my father.
"Ready?" he said, already in position and a few meters away from me. "Today I'll be harder on you since yesterday you managed to block most of the blows."
"You're the one getting old, that's for sure!" I laughed teasingly and almost burst out laughing when I saw my father's grimace.
I barely noticed, from laughing so much, and he was already there, swords coming toward me. He jumped and spun with his swords at his sides. I raised my swords and crossed them to form an "X." He was really going hard this time—so much that I couldn't even hold the blow. As soon as his first sword hit mine, I ended up throwing them toward my face, and then his second sword came down and struck the top of my head.
"Be alert, boy! If those were real swords, you'd already be done for!" my father shouted, stepping back and then coming forward with one of his swords.
I barely had time to recover from the previous blows, and all I could do was dodge to the side—but it wasn't enough. Only one of his swords was in front, the other behind him, so right after I dodged sideways, he moved the sword quickly like a horizontal slash. The blow landed squarely on my belly, which made me fall to the ground and stay there.
"Give me a break," I said, groaning in pain and barely breathing, "just until I recover."
"I'll give you a break, but no one outside will!" My father said these words and, with another horizontal strike—using the side of the wooden blade and not the edge, but this time hitting my face—I got my answer. The sound was like a slap.
He then stepped back and relaxed his arms but still held the two wooden swords.
"When something like this happens, even if you can't breathe properly, you have to pull the air in deeply and hold it for a few moments. Don't hold it for more than two seconds. Notice what's going on at the moment, then release the air forcefully while exhaling and defend yourself! Whenever you exert any strength, exhale forcefully a little of the air you just inhaled, but never run out of breath. It's important to always control your breathing. As hard as this might seem, it will work, but it has to be done within a few seconds," my father said, repositioning the swords. "Come on, once more!"
I gripped my swords as tightly as I could and stared at him. This time I paid close attention and could see him approaching—but this time with one sword lying right in front of him and the other at his side. He pulled his arm and sword quickly away from the front, and the sword at his side came like a blast toward me. Again, I put both swords in front of me forming an "X," but this time I leaned my body forward a bit, and with the momentum, I managed to hold the blow. I didn't pay attention to his other sword; by the time I noticed, it was too late. The other sword came straight for my waist, and this time it was stronger than the previous blow. I fell to my knees, barely able to breathe. I remembered my father's words and stopped the quick breaths for a long one, then held my breath. I looked at my father and got ready, but I was too slow with everything. By the time I noticed, there was a sword just about to hit the top of my head. I released the air I was holding so tightly and started breathing again, the same way it seemed like I'd just been saved from drowning. I really still hadn't quite figured out how to do it.
"You did well, but you still need more speed." He gave two soft, quick taps on my shoulder and smiled.
Those were my days, although today's training was definitely harder than the others. As usual, I threw myself on the ground and lay there stretched out like a lizard, resting as much as possible. My father also lay down on the grass, and we stared at the sky for a while while talking, then got up.