Bloom Moon 8
Felis had stood beside Bell as the boy nervously stepped up to the Guild counter. It was an unassuming moment, really—quiet and simple—but for Bell, it marked the end of a long, lonely wait. And for Eina Tulle, the moment Bell finally signed his name as a member of Hestia Familia was enough to make her smile brighter than usual.
"Congratulations, Bell," she'd said gently, hands clasped in front of her. "You've finally found your place… and people who'll stand beside you."
Bell had bowed his head slightly, clearly flustered. "Y-Yes! I'll do my best, Eina-san. I promise."
"And you," Eina added, her eyes flicking toward Felis, her voice softer now. "Thank you, Felis-san… for looking out for him."
Felis had only responded with a lazy flick of his tail and a small, warm grin—one that said more than words ever could.
With the paperwork complete, Bell followed Felis home—truly home this time. Just like Narissa had done after joining, Bell moved his few belongings into one of the empty bedrooms on the second floor of Heart Manor. Hestia and Narissa helped him settle in, chatting and teasing lightly, their warmth slowly easing the nerves out of him.
That night, they shared a small dinner to celebrate. Nothing fancy—just Hestia's hearty cooking and a house full of conversation. Bell barely said a word, but the way he looked around the table with shining eyes said everything: he was no longer alone.
---
Bloom Moon 9
The sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden sheen across the white stone walls of Heart Manor. Birds chirped lazily in the trees beyond the courtyard, and a gentle breeze carried the scent of fresh soil and flowers. But the right side of the manor was anything but tranquil.
Clack.
The sound of wooden training blades meeting rang out again.
Felis moved like water—fluid, precise, impossible to pin down. In contrast, Bell's footing was uncertain, his strikes wide, telegraphed. He breathed heavily, sweat already dampening his white shirt despite the early hour.
"Step forward with your left when you swing like that," Felis said calmly, parrying Bell's downward strike with one hand. "You're overextending. It'll leave your ribs wide open."
"S-sorry!"
"Don't apologize. Adjust."
Bell nodded, adjusting his stance with determined eyes. His dagger—just a simple training weapon for now—trembled slightly in his grip.
They moved again.
Bell rushed in, trying to feint left before cutting low. Felis didn't move much—just enough. The wooden sword flicked outward, knocking Bell's blade wide with a sharp thwack. Bell's eyes followed the arc of his weapon as it flew from his grip.
"Ah—!"
In that exact heartbeat, Felis was already moving.
A blur of black and silver crossed the space between them. Bell's knees buckled as Felis swept his feet out from under him with surgical precision. He landed on his back with a dull thud, breath stolen from his lungs.
Then—snatch.
Felis' tail curled midair, catching the falling dagger by its grip with casual ease. He crouched above Bell, the wooden tip pressed lightly against the boy's throat before it could bounce again.
Bell stared, wide-eyed, frozen.
Felis blinked once. "You're dead."
Silence stretched for a moment. Then Bell laughed softly, a little breathless. "You're terrifying, Felis-san…"
"And you're not using your eyes," Felis said, standing and offering him a hand. "You have good instincts—but you keep thinking in straight lines. In battle, your gaze can lie. Your body always tells the truth."
Bell took his hand, groaning as he pulled himself up. "Straight lines are all I know."
"Then we'll teach you curves."
Felis stepped back, twirling the wooden blade once. The sun glinted off his golden eyes as he assumed a ready stance once more.
"Again."
Bell exhaled, planting his feet. "Right."
---
By late morning, Bell was sore in places he didn't know could be sore. Felis ended the session with a few simple drills, his tone softening as he shifted into instruction rather than challenge. For every stumble, he corrected without scolding. For every slight improvement, his tail gave a pleased flick.
As Bell leaned against the cool stone of the manor wall, sipping water and catching his breath, he looked up with a small grin.
"I… want to get stronger," he said quietly. "So I won't have to be saved all the time."
Felis didn't reply immediately. He glanced up at the clouds, letting the silence sit comfortably between them before nodding once.
"You're on the right path," he said. "Just make sure you keep walking it."
---
Bloom Moon 10
The following morning carried a gentler breeze than before, and the sunlight filtered through soft wisps of cloud. Heart Manor stirred slowly, but on its right flank—the open clearing now claimed as a training ground—Bell was already waiting, wooden dagger in hand.
He didn't flinch at the soreness this time.
Felis arrived a few moments later, feline ears perked forward and tail swaying lazily behind him, a jug of water in one hand and a cloth bundle in the other.
"You're early," he remarked, dropping the bundle to the ground. Inside were two spare training daggers, well-worn but balanced.
"I wanted to warm up first," Bell replied with a sheepish smile. "I thought… maybe if I go through the drills from yesterday, I won't fall on my back so easily."
Felis let out a short, amused exhale as he stretched his arms. "That's good. But don't think for a second I won't put you on your back again."
Bell's grin widened. "I know."
Clack.
Wood met wood again.
Today's lesson focused less on sparring and more on movement. Felis demonstrated footwork patterns with the patience of a seasoned instructor, circling Bell like a predator but striking only to correct form or test reflexes.
"Step with your weight, not just your feet. Let your center follow the blade," Felis instructed, lightly tapping Bell's heel with his own. "And relax your shoulders. Tension slows you."
Bell nodded, correcting himself again and again. Slowly, his motions smoothed. He wasn't fast—not yet—but he was less erratic, less easy to read.
Felis didn't praise. He didn't need to. But Bell noticed the subtle shift in his instructor's posture—the small nods, the occasional pause when a strike was just barely avoided.
Progress.
By late morning, Felis called for a break. They sat under the shade of a tree at the edge of the clearing, sipping water in comfortable silence.
"You're adapting quickly," Felis said after a while, watching the wind stir the leaves. "You still hesitate too much, but your instincts are decent."
Bell looked down at his callused hands. "It's strange… I never really thought about how I move before. I just… swung. And hoped."
Felis chuckled quietly. "That's how a lot of people die."
Bell flinched, but nodded solemnly.
"…Thanks for teaching me."
Felis didn't respond right away, but after a beat, he said, "If I didn't think you were worth it, I wouldn't bother."
The words settled into Bell's chest like warmth.
---
As the sun dipped lower, casting long golden streaks across the walls of Heart Manor, Bell found himself drifting toward the courtyard. The scent of fresh earth and blossoms wafted through the open air, soft and calming. There, just as always, Narissa knelt among the flowers with her sleeves rolled, carefully pruning a vine that had grown unruly.
Beside her, Hestia hummed softly as she helped loosen the soil of a nearby planter, a straw hat slightly askew atop her dark blue hair. The two worked in easy harmony—goddess and follower—not saying much, but comfortable in each other's presence.
Bell lingered near the doorway for a moment, watching them quietly. He didn't say anything, didn't want to disturb the peace of it.
His muscles still ached, and his grip on the dagger was far from perfect, but the warmth of the manor—the people inside it—made the sting of training feel a little lighter.
Tomorrow would come with more bruises, more sweat. But it would come with them, too.
---
Bloom Moon 11
The golden light of morning spilled across the training yard, warm and gentle, but the air cracked with the sharp rhythm of steel meeting steel. A small cloud of dust kicked up as Felis stepped back with practiced ease, his long black tail swaying behind him as he surveyed the two figures before him.
Narissa stood beside Bell now, feet planted, dagger in hand—not just watching this time, but moving.
Today marked the first time she officially joined their training, and her focus was like a drawn thread—tensioned, alert, controlled.
Bell glanced her way with a flicker of nerves. "This really feels like a boss fight already…"
Narissa gave a slight smile, adjusting her stance without looking at him. "Let's not give him too much credit just yet."
Felis rolled his shoulders once, cracking his neck. "Oh, please do. Flatter me. It'll make the bruises easier to take."
Then he moved.
Bell lunged forward, his dagger angled in a straightforward stab—but Felis twisted past it with feline grace, deflecting the blow with his forearm. Narissa was already sweeping in from the side, dagger slashing low, aiming for his leg.
Felis shifted his weight, let her pass, then swept his foot under Bell's heels. The boy tumbled with a yelp—but before he hit the ground, Felis snatched Bell's dagger midair with his tail, twirled it once, and stopped the point just shy of his cheek.
"Dead," he said calmly.
Bell groaned. "You used your tail again…"
"And you still stared at it. That's two mistakes."
Narissa stepped in, raising a brow. "You sure you're not just showing off?"
Felis tossed the dagger back to Bell and offered him a hand. "Of course I am. But I'm also teaching you both to stay focused under pressure—no matter the distraction."
They began again.
And again.
Sparks flew. Dust stirred. The air grew hotter with each exchange.
Though outmatched, Bell and Narissa slowly began to move in sync. Bell learned to listen for Narissa's light footsteps, to trust the way she flowed into his gaps. Narissa adjusted her tempo to Bell's bursts of movement, covering his flanks and redirecting the pressure.
It was rough. Sloppy at times.
But it was progress.
By noon, both trainees collapsed onto the grass, sweat-soaked and breathing hard. Felis crouched beside them, barely winded, arms folded as he looked them over.
"You're getting there," he said. "Today was better. Bell, you're starting to recognize openings. And Narissa… your footwork's still too spell-focused, but your control's improving."
"I'm trying," she murmured, brushing her hair back. "I never thought I'd be training like this."
"Better here than in the middle of a dungeon with a wound and no mana," Felis replied, golden eyes serious. "If you can handle a blade when your magic runs dry, you'll live longer."
Bell nodded, chest still heaving. "And maybe next time… I won't get killed by your tail."
Felis smiled faintly. "You might. But you'll look cool doing it."
From a distance, behind the flowering hedges of the courtyard, a flicker of blue and white moved quietly.
Hestia didn't call out, didn't make her presence known.
But she lingered for a moment, one hand resting on a small clay pot as she watched the three in silence—pride warming her chest, unspoken affection soft in her gaze.
Then she turned and walked back toward the courtyard where her work waited, a smile on her lips.
---
Bloom Moon 12
The sky hung low with a soft overcast light, casting a silvery sheen over the training yard. The air was cool, gentle with the scent of earth and dew, the kind of morning that made muscles ache a little less… but did nothing to soften the sting of a well-placed strike.
Bell grunted as he was forced back, blocking a sweep from Felis with the flat of his dagger—just in time for Narissa to slide into position beside him, blade reversing in her hand as she cut for an opening on Felis' left.
The captain slipped between their strikes, weaving with uncanny precision.
"Your rhythm's off," he called mid-motion, catching Narissa's wrist with his palm and guiding her away with a twist. "You're stepping too soon, and Bell isn't reading the shift fast enough."
Bell growled under his breath, lunging to recover, only to find Felis behind him the next second, blade gently tapped to his back.
"Dead again," Felis said, his tail flicking once as he lowered his stance.
They reset. Again.
What had begun as basic one-on-one drills just days ago had now become something else entirely—an evolving rhythm between the three of them. Felis no longer slowed down as much. He pressed, tested, danced through their attempts with a calm edge, waiting to see if they'd adapt under pressure.
And slowly… they did.
Narissa's movements were tighter now, more deliberate. Her dagger wasn't just an afterthought to her magic—it had become an extension of her will, a blade that moved in tandem with Bell's bursts of motion.
Bell had stopped hesitating.
He still stumbled, still got thrown, but he was learning to think mid-fight—to communicate through the swing of a blade, through a glance, through instinct.
They fought together.
"Better," Felis said after the third reset, golden eyes narrowing in faint approval as Bell covered Narissa's flank while she circled for a strike. "Still not enough to beat me, but better."
The next exchange was quicker. More fluid.
Narissa feinted high and dropped low, her dagger grazing Felis' shin—barely. At the same time, Bell ducked and rolled into a rising slash meant to force Felis to jump.
He did.
Midair, tail flicking, Felis twisted into a flip and landed just outside their reach, crouched and smiling.
"If this were a real dungeon fight," he murmured, "you might've bought yourself an opening."
They were both panting. Bell leaned on his knees, grinning through the sweat. "Did we get a hit?"
"A scratch," Felis answered. "But sometimes that's all it takes."
A light clap echoed softly.
Hestia, standing a few steps away now, offered a proud smile—no longer hiding her presence today.
"You've all been working hard," she said gently. "I thought I'd see it for myself, just once."
Narissa glanced over, flushed but quietly pleased. Bell looked a bit sheepish but stood straighter.
Felis gave Hestia a slow, almost teasing bow. "Welcome, Goddess. The warriors-in-training are still alive—for now."
"I can see that," she said warmly, stepping closer. "Just don't push them too hard, okay? Not everyone recovers as fast as you do."
"I'll keep that in mind," Felis replied, voice dry but fond. "We'll wrap soon."