Sharpening

Connie's muscles strained and screamed, as she struggled to keep up with her holographic opponent. Its sword tip swiped at her, grazing her cheek— Connie just managed to jerk back at the last second, throwing her blade up in a desperate parry.

From the side-lines, Pearl gasped.

Connie's grip tightened on her hilt, and forced out a burst of energy.

A furry of slashes, and the holopearl dissolved. Connie stood there, panting desperately.

"Well done!" called Pearl. "And now, I think, a break. Let's get you some water—"

Connie took the proffered water-bottle and downed a cold gulp. Then she said, "You don't have to coddle me."

Pearl's eyes went wide and slightly panicky.

Connie could see the awkward excuses coming, and cut them off. "I was slow and out of form."

"Well… yes." Pearl pressed her fingers together. "But, well, it's only to be expected! You haven't practiced in— oh—"

"Three weeks and two days," Connie said. "I mean… properly practiced. I tried a couple of times in my backyard, but the space was too small, it's hard without a partner, and…"

"…and?" Pearl prompted, voice delicate.

Connie sighed, and dropped onto a stone bench, harder than intended. "I kept getting— angry every time I tried. I could have put more effort in, but…"

Her teacher's face was a mingled expression of confused concern, and Connie felt the bite of guilt. Part of her wanted to explain, and part of her shied away from sharing anymore. The stuff that had passed between herself and Steven— that was personal, that was private. She didn't know how Steven would feel about Pearl knowing, let alone herself.

I got mad at Steven on giving up on our training, Connie thought, but then I just gave up too! How hypocritical is that? And who knows how dangerous the missions we're going on are going to be? If someone gets hurt, and it was just because I was too immature to talk to him—

"Connie."

The hand on Pearl's knee was gentle, but cold, and shocked Connie out of her panicked thoughts.

"I don't know… everything that happened," Pearl admitted. "But I don't think blaming yourself will be very productive. At least," she let out a high, slightly-strangled laugh, "from my own experience, it rarely is."

Connie smiled faintly.

The laughter faded. Pearl's expression became more solemn, more distant. "What happened to Steven was… Scary. You needed time to collect your thoughts. That's alright. But now that we're here, we can focus on the future."

Connie nodded.

"Thanks," she said, and then hugged Pearl.

She hadn't been planning to. And Pearl clearly hadn't been expecting it, based on how taught and rigid her body was.

It felt like hugging an ice statue, and Connie was about to withdraw— when that ice seemed to melt a little. Pearl wrapped a light arm around her student's shoulders, and squeezed.

They sat for a moment.

Only a moment. Then Pearl clapped, and said it was time to run some drills. They had work to return to.