The upstairs area of the Aron residence is as common as one can be.
It is, of course, separated into two parts: A traditional and conventional compartment.
Obviously, I settled for the conventional area. Sometimes I can't fathom what my grandfather was thinking, blending two distinct styles like sugar mix.
Yet, I respect his efforts.
Being able to do so and make it so indescribably annoying is a praise on its own.
I arrive upstairs and grab onto the short balcony-like barrier preventing people from falling backwards into the stairs. The room directly ahead of me is mine.
Well, not actually.
Being the second main resident of this place, I can freely choose my "room" at will.
But, I continuously choose the one in front of me because of the warmth and lack of windows.
Because "my" room is located in the industrial side, the modern advancements of heating systems and weighted blankets make for an extremely enjoyable nightly experience.
Accompanied by the lack of windows, which is a personal preference, I can enjoy perfect sleep in a pitch black room for as long as I want.
Or, until Kouta decides to call me in person to come to help out at the bakery.
Which, might I add, is extremely rare.
Most of the time, I go there on my own discretion…the only times I've been asked to show up were on holidays, where Kouta and I made food to give out to furōsha.
Well, I guess it doesn't really matter about sleeping anyways.
Well, because I'm not going to bed yet.
I turn around and face toward the attic of the upstairs and approach the wooden door.
This, too, is more conventional. The design of the knob gives it away completely.
—Opening the door, I stare into the black void of the attic.
As if it were a deeply rooted impulse, I grab to my right and wrap my fingers around the handle of a sword.
Of course, I am going to train in fencing.
Despite the egregiously late hour, it's a part of my daily routine, so I try dearly to stick to it.
"Alright…This should work."
Taking out the blade from the darkness, I seem to have gotten the best one out of the collection.
Every time I come here to grab a blade, I do so without looking, as if it were an indicator of luck.
Or, an indicator of how well the session will be.
There are maybe about 34 separate blades hidden in the attic.
I'm only allowed to say that number because that's the number of unique variants I've pulled.
Even though I could go on for minutes thinking about all the different types, it's only necessary to care about the one I'm holding now:
The classic, silver sword.
I've only had this one on 3 separate occasions, and in every one, the session had been excellent.
My form felt natural, as if I were dancing rather than fighting, and my grip felt like it had merged with the handle.
That, and the fact that when I hold this blade, my torn wrist seems to become non-existent…!
…I let out a sigh.
Though I'm fairly excited to train, I can't help but keep Taka's image in my head.
Or, I mean, Takamura-sensei.