Everyone's a Catgirl! Ch. 335: In a Nutshell (Patreon)

When Sam mentioned that I’d be learning how to sharpen my weapon, I pictured something along the lines of what I’d seen in most of the RPGs I played while I still lived on Earth: a basic whetstone. Something gray and flat, thick; a stone that would spray sparks into the grass and, hopefully, not start a fire.

Instead, she pulled out several different tools from inside the tent. One of the objects she had in her hands was pretty much what I’d imagined, though it was much smaller. She set the flat stone beside her, then set another—much larger and nearly pitch-black—stone beside it. The last of the items was a thick sheet of paper.

“How long have ya had that weapon, again?” Sam asked without looking at me.

“At least a few months. I think.” I scratched my head. I had moved from the old hand-me-down axe that I initially started with fairly quickly, and never looked back. I half-wondered if Espada would’ve taught me how to properly maintain my weapon if I’d asked.

Sam nodded. “Okay. And you never had anyone else clean it up for you?”

My gaze veered. My cheeks burned with embarrassment. “No. I guess it kind of slipped my mind.”

Sam smiled wryly. “That’s alright. You’re gonna learn everything I have to teach ya. It’s not a complicated process, once you get used to it. It’s one of the basic skills I teach budding knights.” She extended her hand. “Axe.”

Sam placed it on the ground, edge facing toward me. She tilted it several times, occasionally catching the sunlight. With a click of her tongue, she frowned, lifted it, scratched at the rust, then placed it back on the ground.

“Is it bad?” I asked.

Sam paused. “Nope! But it’s going to be tough.” She slipped a thin tan cloth out of a pouch on her belt and went over the blade, wiping away the blood. “The first step to keeping your weapon clean and in good shape is to wipe away the blood as soon as possible. Blood contains iron, and iron rusts over time.” She chuckled. “This weapon has seen a lot.”

“Yeah”—I rubbed the back of my neck—“I guess it has.”

Sam retrieved one of the waterskins we’d filled before we left Ronona, and splashed the rag. Her forearms tensed each time she pushed against the blade, and I noted how she used the bottom of her palm to dig into the metal. The blood thinned each time she went over it, and after a few minutes, she lifted it and observed both sides.

“Well, that’s as much as we’re going to be able to clean.” She set the weapon down, cricked her neck to the side, then held up the thick piece of paper. “This is rubbing parchment. Any smith who knows their craft carries this on hand. Make sure you pick some up after you and I part ways. Got it?”

I nodded. “Loud and clear.”

“Good man.” Sam returned her attention to the axe head, and heat rose to my face. “One end is soft, the other is laden with a gum-sand mixture. You’re gonna use this to rub away the rust.” With quick micro movements, she used a corner of the paper and used her thumb to dig into a crevice where a thin splatter of rust waited. The sound was like rubbing two rocks together, and I winced.

Sam blew away the dust made by her thumb, then held it up toward me. “See that?” Most of the outer layer had been rubbed away, and what remained in the middle had thinned out.

“Dang,” I marveled. “Well, I’ll never doubt sandpaper again.”

Sam blinked. “Did you have this where you came from?”

I nodded. “Yeah, though it was used for mostly carpentry, I think.” And tiny plastic robots.

“Interesting. You’re familiar with it.” She spun the axe between her hands, her palms pressed against the butt and top, then set it down on the grass between us. “Then you can get started!” She set the sheet of, uh, rubbing parchment on top of the axe head. “I’m gonna finish up cookin’ dinner. See how far you can get until I’m done.”

Sam shot to her feet, tail swaying behind her as she sauntered over to the pot. It was hypnotic, and I nearly cut myself on the axe of my own damned weapon. Concentrate, Kelmer. This is important stuff. 

Images of afternoons spent helping my dad in the garage came flooding back as fresh as the day they occurred. The scent of fresh-cut lumber, the sound of power drills, and his curses filling the air whenever he misjudged one of his measurements. He had spent years of his life trying to teach me how to fix a car, build my own furniture, and build tools and gadgets from scratch. Looking back on it, I think that was his way of showing he cared.

I wiped the sweat from my forehead. My muscles ached, and I’d just barely removed the rest of the rust from where Sam had been grinding it down. After no sleep and a hunt, this was exhausting work. But I reminded myself that cleaning the axe would be a lot easier as I kept up on it.

Practice makes perfect. Everyone starts somewhere. Just be grateful you have a good teacher.

Sam returned with two hot bowls of the stew we’d made. “I’ll put it next to ya.” The wooden spoon clinked against the clay bowl as she set it down. She moved to sit beside me, and crossed her legs. With the bowl cradled in her palm, she spooned some of the stew into her mouth. “How far did you get?” she asked between bites.

“Phew. Uh, not very. I don’t think.” I held it up for her to observe. 

Sam set her bowl aside and held the axe with one hand. “So far so good! You’re a quick study!” She handed it back.

“Thanks, Sam. Sometimes I wonder if I’m too far behind.” I accepted my weapon and returned to my duty.

“Eat your stew, Matt.” She pointed at my bowl with her spoon. “Pushing yourself as a [Battleguard] is important, but there’s a difference between tough and stupid.” She guided another helping to her mouth. “C’mon, put it down. It’s not goin’ anywhere.”

I nodded. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” I set my axe to my right and retrieved the bowl on my left. The warmth comforted my dry hands, and the scent of the stew had my mouth watering. I licked my lips, pinched the spoon, and took my first bite. “Oh my God. This is delicious.” I cocked my head back and exhaled. Yeah, sex is pretty great, but have you tried eating after a long day’s work?

“Good, huh?” Sam giggled and continued to chow down.

“This is one of the best meals I’ve ever had.” When I thought about it, not much went into it either. Sure, we added spices and a few other ingredients, but when it came down to it, this wasn’t a complicated recipe.

“That’s ‘cause you worked for it. Huntin’ for your food, cookin’ it yourself, basking in company that you trust”—she pointed at me with her spoon—“it makes it all worthwhile. There’s nothin’, and I mean nothin’ like it.”

“I see what you mean.” My muscles were killing me, I could sleep for a week, and I dreaded what the rest of the day was going to look like. But right now? I was on top of the world. Come to think of it, the meal I’d helped Cannoli prepare after we’d left Shizen’s on San Island also occupied my top five meals in Nyarlea.

I hope she’s doing okay. I hope they all are.

We ate our stew in relative silence after that. I’d grown so used to Sam talking to me the entire trip that I had to remind myself that I wasn’t the only one who was sleep-deprived. She was undoubtedly more accustomed to staying up than I was, but she still had to feel similar effects.

“Let me say,” Sam said as if she had read my mind, “you are doin’ a great job so far.” She slurped the rest of the bowl’s contents, then stood up and returned to the pot for seconds. “How are ya feelin’?”

“Tired.”

She laughed. “Yeah, me too.”

I finished my bowl just as Sam was sitting back down, and made my way over to the pot for more. Sam glanced over her shoulder at me with a smile.

“Becoming a [Battleguard] is tough. Proud of ya for pursuin’ it.”

“Is it not a popular Class?”

Sam shook her head. “Not at all.”

I filled my bowl and resumed my spot on the grass, with my axe propped up between us.

“Why do you think that is?” I asked as I scooped some of the stew into my mouth.

“Too dangerous.”

“Must be like that for a lot of melee Classes.”

She shook her head again. “To an extent, yeah. Gettin’ in the thick of things is always gonna be scary. There’s no gettin’ around that.” She perched her chin in her palm and set aside her half-eaten bowl. “But [Battleguard]s are constantly putin’ their lives on the line. It’s the cost for what we get in return.”

“Are you talking about what we pay in [Health Points]?”

Sam nodded, and her attention veered to the forest beyond. “Mostly, yeah. But it goes beyond that.” She drummed her fingers along her chin. “[Battleguard]s have to keep pushing themselves. We’re always dancin’ on a knife’s edge. If we don’t revel in it, then it’ll take us.”

I remembered the screams that filled the air when Erina lost her arm. To this day, that fight still haunted me. “I’m glad I have you for a teacher.”

“Is that so?”

I smiled. “Yeah. I mean it. You’ve been nothing short of amazing. Plus, you’re helping me learn how to hunt and maintain my weapons, so thanks.”

“Aww, think nothin’ of it,” she said, waving her hand. “Just doin’ my part is all.” I smiled. “Speakin’ of,” she continued, “that’s one of the reasons why I haven’t let you sleep.”

I cocked my head to the side. “To push me?” She nodded. “I figured that much.”

Sam pulled her legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. “It’s more than that, Matt.”

I didn’t like the tone of her voice. I felt like she was hinting at something I was unaware of. “What do you mean?”

She put her chin between her knees, and her lips formed a thin line. “[Battleguard]s are a bit different from the other Classes in how they manage their resources.” Her gaze met the grass, then rose back up to look at me. “Fury can keep you awake, make you see things that aren’t there. Your heart’s gonna pound, your lungs are gonna explode. Your muscles will feel like they’re moments away from tearing apart.” She paused. “And you’ll survive it. Somehow. It’s gonna drive ya wild.”

I swallowed against the lump in my throat. Did I make a huge mistake picking [Battleguard]? “O-oh. I, well, uh. I figured.”

She laughed. “Oh yeah?”

“Cailu made it pretty obvious that without a good healer, I’d be in a world of hurt.”

Sam nodded sagely. “Good healers do help quite a bit. But that ‘world of hurt’ doesn’t go away with a healer. Fury is tough to deal with, and with each stack of it gained, it gets harder and harder to concentrate.” She pointed at me, and I was just noticing how sharp her nails were. “That’s why I’m havin’ you stay up.”

“Is this what stacking Fury feels like?”

“The first one or two stacks, yeah.” She curled her arm back around her legs. “This is the safest way I can get you to experience it. We don’t always get to choose when we have to fight. For that reason, I wanna push you to your limits—see how long it takes to break you. This is a feeling you’re gonna have to get used to, Matt.”

I finished my bowl and set it aside. I couldn’t help but wonder how Fury would actually feel. From the sounds of it, like shit. But, if it meant protecting my girls, I’d deal with anything. “I think I can do it.”

She smiled. “I think so too. Now!” She rocked back, then forward onto her hands and knees. She tapped the axe with her pointer finger. “Let’s get back to this.”