First Swing

"Haaa...what's done is done. We can't change what you've done now, so we might as well live with it", Teresa said while healing him.

The kid kept his head down but gave his weapons a glance. He made a conscious decision to keep to himself the information that the weapons were handing out.

"He can change our name even after he touched us!"

"Yeah! It's ok! Just make him change our names! Please!"

"I can't live like this! I'll commit seppuku!"

"Ye-how will you manage that?"

"I'll find a way!"

The kid didn't want to change their names. He still felt that his names were incredible. So incredible that no one could understand the awesomeness of them. Teresa looked at the child looking down and sighed again.

"What weapon did you give the name 'Clover' to?"

The kid looked at his Aunt cautiously, and gave a sigh of relief as soon as he saw her calm-ish face.

"The broadsword"

"Why?"

"Well, as soon as I saw it I thought of the word 'Cleaver' but I thought that was too basic, so I changed it"

"I'd be fine with Cleaver!", Clover shouted to deaf ears

"To Clover?"

"Yes"

"...."

"Aunt Teresa?"

Teresa had twitch-face, which is a condition that occurs when a person is so annoyed or agitated that their entire face starts twitching randomly, making them look as if they were vibrating and that their face was about to pop off their neck.

"Ehem....then the scythe is Second then?"

"Yep!"

Teresa had another bout of twitch-face as she saw how proud the boy was about his choice. She stopped vibrating just long enough to ask, "And how did you come up with that one?"

The kid stopped and pondered a bit. A spark of intelligence sparked within his eyes for a moment before it shriveled up and died.

"It has a deep and profound meaning"

"Oh really? What is it?"

The scythe became a bit hopeful. Beside him Clover was grumbling something about 'discrimination'. 

"I'll get back to you on that"

The tiny bit of hope that had bred in Second was brutally murdered. Beside him Clover started laughing.

"You should have seen your face!"

"I don't have a face! What are you even laughing for? Your name has no thought into it, ZERO! Your name is much worse than mine!"

"At least the boy knows where he got my name from. He doesn't even know why he thought of yours"

"At least my name has a deep meaning that he will find out later! Your name will always be stuck as a discount 'Cleaver'!"

"Do you really believe the kid?"

"...."

He, in fact, did not.

"We are going to be spending a lot of time with him, we need to have some trust"

"Yeah, keep telling yourself that"

Teresa stopped using her Art once she made sure that he was fully healed.

"You need some rest. Don't move around much, you are still healing. We can continue our discussion and plan ahead tomorrow"

"Okay Aunt Teresa!"

"I must say though dear, those names are really not good, not good all"

A residual twitch from her twitch-face resurfaced as she saw how offended and insulted the boy looked. As if he did not know and even worse, did not accept what she had said. 

"Wha-"

"No, nono, no more drama today, I've had enough. We will discuss this tomorrow."

The boy thought for a second before nodding his head. He could understand that. He also did not want to be subject to the beady eyes of death before sleeping, lest they give him nightmares.

Why was he sure he was going to get the death stare you say? Well, the serious tone and the slight curving of the eyebrows were a clear indicator that his Aunt Teresa was going to get really mad if someone even dared to voice their opinions.

Therefore, he did the sensible thing and shut his mouth. Teresa seemed happy about his action and lay a mat on the ground for him to sleep on. She also took the weapons and placed them near him.

Then she walked out of the house and called Alex back inside. Alex slowly and cautiously made his way back inside. Teresa told him to roll out his own mat or sleep on the floor and then placed her own mat on the ground and went to sleep.

Alex brought his mat to where the other two were sleeping and rolled it out. He then conked out on it, exhausted.

*****************************************

The next morning the kid woke up with a splitting headache. He had slept very late in the night. Turns out that having voices resounding in your head the entire night that argued and cussed you out loudly affected your ability to sleep. Who knew?!

He desperately wanted to block out their voices, and tried really hard to do it last night, but he could not. The weapons were being very helpful in showing him how pointless it all was by continuously telling him how pointless it all was (not very implicit, I know).

Also by arguing....a lot. He had eventually given up, tired from the mental strain, and ironically, that is what finally allowed him to sleep. 

He stood up, rolled up his mat, placed it back into its place in the shelf, and got out of the hut with his two new weapons.

"Where are you taking us", Clover enquired.

"Training"

"Of course he is, he's got new toys and he just must play with them", that was Second.

"You're right, I don't even know why I asked"

"Did you just agree with me?"

"Is that so hard to believe?"

"Yeah it is!"

"Why can't you even accept a win! Just what has to happen so that you can be satisfied?!"

"Geez, look at you starting a fight. I was just shocked is all"

"You freakin half-assed spear wannabe!"

"So, now you're resorting to petty name calling like a child, fat lump!"

The boy just looked at the two of his weapons and sighed. It was going to take a while for him to learn how to handle these two handfuls. But till then, he would do the one thing he knew the very best. Training!

He grabbed the two weapons with each of his hands, the weaker, recently healed arm holding the scythe, and swung them in a coordinated, methodical path he had created this morning, while he had been putting away his mat.