Kick Some Arsenal - Sven / Lars

He doesn’t know it, but I’m wide awake. I have been for a little while. I don’t sleep too well, and Sven knows that well enough. It’s the fact that my dad comes in and opens the window that wakes me up initially. I don’t ever mention it, I don’t like to cause a fuss in the family over something so trivial. That’s probably why we’re a nice, tight-knit family; none of us make a fuss about much at all. Except fighting. Me and Sven have to train full-on this coming few weeks. I can’t wait.

The smell of eggs cooking has me rouse myself though. Sven always gets up first, properly, to make the breakfast. Just for him and I since our parents won’t be up. I get up and put on my clothes ready for the training centre. Tracksuit bottoms, t-shirt. Hopefully it’s not the same as Sven, because the looks that we can get can sometimes be too distracting, and maybe a little embarrassing.

Mornings are usually my least favorite time of the day. I really do hate feeling groggy, or tiresome. It’s mostly because I like to have the energy to get up and go when I’m needed. It isn’t that much of a dramatic life, being a Riendeau, which isn’t a well known name around this District, or our town, at all.

I put myself down the stairs and narrowly avoid the little nudge that sticks out at the bottom. There’s my brother, putting in some toast. “Morning.” I casually say, a brief smile on my face before I reach on up to the cupboard and grab a can of beans and crack it open with an opener. I slip them in the microwave after putting them in a proper container. “Sleep well?” I ask Sven, looking over as he shakes the pan subtly.

“Not too bad. You?” He responds to my question. I’m glad he slept well, but I wish I had slept better. It probably won’t show on me that I’ve had one hour less, though. “Yeah, it was alright.” I fib. He’ll never know any different, which is all the lie is for. Now that the food is cooked, Sven and I sit at the table. It’s a small thing, brown and only room for four people. That’s the only amount that has ever sat at it, and that’s only at night when the family gets together. Like I always mention, we’re a good family.

“I can’t wait to get going, eat quickly.” He informs me. “Don’t worry about me, it’s you that eats slow...” I joke with a wink of my eye to ensure he knows I’m just kidding. Sometimes I think Sven can be like that, he can sometimes mistaken one of my harsh lines as an insult, but I’m just joking. “What time are we going?” He asks me. Now, it’s me informing him it seems. “Well it opens at half-past, and it’s twenty-past now. We’ve got ten minutes before it opens.” I mention, stating the obvious a little more than I like to do. “I guess we’ll go as soon as we’re done.” I could have just replied with ‘when we’re ready’, but that’s really annoying and I’ve done it before, Sven hated it. He and I learn from each other like that, I think.

“Great, we’re matching again.” He shakes his head subtly, and I jon him. “I can sort it if you want?” I ask him, but he states; “No time to change now...” I laugh a little, because the looks and glares will just double, which is quite funny. There’s always new careers starting up, so there’s always a question, or a stare. “Right, let’s go.” He states to me. “Alright.” I simply reply.

We head out. Nine minute walk just down the road. Right through the doors of the training centre. Double doors, he goes to the left and I go to the right, it’s a tendency that we both upkeep. We walk right into the main hall, and there’s trainees dotted around everywhere. People are quick to wake, quick to train, and quick to take the open places. Sven and I take to the swords. There’s a nice training ring. Decently small, but also enough to have a good fight, plenty of moving room. I take two swords. It’s the usual graft. He’ll take one. I lift my head up jokingly, as a challenge. “Do your worst.” I chuckle, because this is too routine for me to care enough about a challenge. “Remember to tire me out more this time, yeah?” I advise him.

“Will do.” He says at me. I grin subtly to myself, because he’s just joking. That’s the only way to make this simple exercise something more; a day out, or a morning at this time. That’s when the fight commences, and the swords are a bit heavier in our grip. I have two, so defensively and offensively, I have the edge. But technically, there is no edge. There is just the bluntness of the practice blades. No matter, though, because Sven and I are going to fight either way. We rarely get severely hurt by any means. Cuts, bruises, yes. Nothing else otherwise. He takes a lunge at me, and I simply deflect it with a single sword.

Sven is a good fighter, I give him that much. He isn’t something compared to me, or at least he doesn’t show that he is. I wish he was more of an... upgraded sort. Somebody who acts on the initiative of a fight. Maybe he doesn’t want to because it is me, but I am in no state to want anybody else here to test that theory.

“Just getting the blood pumping, won’t be long.” He pokes fun at me. “You’ll need more than that to warm your blood.” I poke back.

I wait a moment.

I do this. I wait briefly, and then I would attack. It’s a simple tactic, and I’m not tactician so it is complex enough for my liking. Sven is the one with the tactical mind. I wouldn’t doubt him to have a heavy hand to play in the intricacies of a fight. “I said do you worst, Sven.” I spit his name at him, trying to rile him up. With that, I take a swing at his legs with one sword, with quite a force to let him know I’m serious, despite him already undoubtedly knowing.

My brother brings around a significant assault, and all I can do is bring a sword to each, except for the final lunge which strikes in at me, directly at my gut. I grunt a slight unintentionally, and I can practically feel the grin that he has on his face the moment he does that. He is sly like this, and I find it quite overwhelming due to his speed. He is a fast fighter, and I respect him for that at least.

“Good,” I start, a little winded. I take a few steps back and catch my breath. “-but that’s just one hit, try to get more than that.” I advise him. I like to consistently give him advice. I want to see him succeed, and that is practically the only way I can do so. It is my turn, though. I have to make sure to keep up my appearances here, because otherwise he will win this fight. I rarely lose to him, so this morning won’t be one of those times. Mind, we haven’t had a proper warm up, and we haven’t been to the gym beforehand - that is our usual routine.

I nod at him, and we begin again. We trade deflections a few times, testing the boundary that both of us know already, but it is what any opponent would do in a fight. I can see somebody in the background walking over, before coming to a halt near the edge of the ring on Sven’s side. Perhaps Sven has somebody who wants to talk to him, or maybe it is the both of us.

“Sven, is it?” He asks. He looks like a tough career, definitely at the peak of his academic progress, I’d say. He’s got a shaved head, and has huge arms. He’s intimidating, I’ll give him that much. “Come here.” He almost demands. To me, this is screaming ‘bad idea’. I refuse myself to defend him though. I want to see how he handles this situation, but I also don’t want to be constantly protecting him; he has to stand on his own two feet. I turn around and pick up my water bottle and take a breather, that lunge has me reeling a little bit.