- BD -

“You want what?!” Bruno looked on from sharpening his latest work with amusement as his two unusual friends sat across his workshop table.

“A sedikuchi! Well, a pair of sedikuchi,” Madzistrale clarified.

“Sure thing, would you like fries with that?” Bruno replied.

“No, no, I’m talking about a sedikuchi!”

“Repeating it louder won’t give it any more sense,” Bruno retorted annoyingly, still grasping the concept as he refrained from reminding them that they were in a blacksmith shop.

“You know, sedikuchi, the Indian version of the Philippine’s yantok!”

“Yantok? I still don’t know what you’re talking about. Is that a new kind of jalapeno or something?”

“No, no, the yantok… Urgh...” Madzistrale gave up, then pouted. “Fine! I wanted to name them otherwise but you obviously don’t know them…. I want a pair of wooden sticks.”

“Sticks?” Bruno repeated slowly, silently refraining from a facepalm.

“Yeah! But you know… cool ones.”

“Cool sticks… Okay… Anything else you might want to expand upon? Like… a hidden blade, or… you know… something more complex than a… stick?”

“Nope. Make a cool pair of sticks that can make our enemies think twice,” Madzistrale explained with pride.

Bruno laughed as he set down his sharpener.

“Now you lost me; you went from sticks to enemies.”

“Gab’s idea. He wants to prepare for an eventual conflict,” Tom clarified.

“And I don’t want to hurt someone when that’ll happen, just to scare them, that’s all,” Madzistrale added.

“You guys will have to let me in on that whole conflict thing; though I don’t blame Gabi for thinking about something like that, with everything going on...” Bruno sighed. He looked around his shop, thinking, then rose, walked to one of his shelf and gently picked up one of his work. He handed it to the siblings. “But wouldn’t something like that be more suited to what you’re suggesting? I know how fond you are of Japanese culture because of your upbringings, so this might suit you more. It’s an iaito wakizashi, for practice; it was traditionally worn inside homes as a defensive weapon, more mobile and suited to close-quarters than their katanas.”

Madzistrale’s eyes gleamed at the sight of the short ornate curved sword that was handed to them, and she looked excitedly at her brother. Tom nodded his approval, so she rose and gently took it with both hands. Bruno swallowed in doubt, and he bit his lips; he loved his friends, but leaving a clumsy Madzistrale in a steampunk party dress with even a blunt weapon was a recipe for disaster.

To his surprise, however, she masterfully unsheathed it in the traditional way and immediately began some iaido choreography with it.

“Wow, you know some moves?!” Bruno looked astoundingly; Madzistrale’s usual clumsiness seemed to have disappeared as she carefully moved around with the wakizashi.

However, Madzistrale blushed, and looking almost ashamed, she sheathed the sword and placed it delicately on the table.

“Not really… just some very basic stuff; I didn’t even really trained at all… I just liked the look and the meaning behind the real deal...”

Tom said nothing, except for a sad smile. Bruno immediately regretted his words. He knew their childhood hadn’t been that cheerful and carefree, and he knew through Tom that they did actually underwent physical training that couldn’t even be counted as a real one. All for putting up a front within their family’s simile-Zen resort back in their Quebecois home.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

He sighed just as sadly as Tom’s smile was; it was a shame, because for once, he actually saw Madzistrale being more agile than usual… as if her daily clumsiness was a front she put on to forget, and most of all, negate people’s expectations about her.

“So one pair, or two?” Bruno finally asked. “I imagine you wanted sticks as well, Tom?”

“Yep.”

“We want to smack some sense into future enemies’ heads; it’s hard to do so with something sharp,” Madzistrale explained, smiling mischievously.

Bruno laughed at the imaginary scene of the two siblings running after some nefarious individuals, waving a stick around, and the individuals having a children’s comics-like bump on the head.

“Alright, give me some time, then. I’ll do my best to make two pairs of cool sticks. Did you guys had anything in mind for the style, colors, type, etc?”

“Nope, surprise us,” Tom said.

“Alright,” Bruno gave up. He then looked at the siblings. “So what exactly is Gabi worried about?”

The siblings shrugged, uneasy.

“That a war is coming; he kinda has a point with all the recent civil unrests and some less-than-ideal breaches of rights. And since we have an insight of what might happen because of our little hobby project, we figured we might as well prepare a little bit in some aspects,” Tom explained.

“But I don’t think we’d need to fight like before,” Madzistrale intervened. “I do think the last century united us more deeply than what people expected, with worldwide communications allowing so many cultures to share together their ideals and their common grounds. That’s also what Gab is doing on his side, exploring being in everyone’ shoes to better understand what to do when the time he foresees will come.”

Madzistrale blushed and instinctively grasped the fabric near her neck; Bruno couldn’t help but see the chain around her neck and the cross shape beneath her top.

“And I know it’s idiotic to think that, but I believe the next war might be kinder than everyone expects. If so, we’ll need kind weapons, kind words. A way to tap someone on the head and tell them ‘wait a sec, we’re on the same side, we’re not what they tell us we are’. You can’t do that with a knife, a gun, hatred, drones, and what-not. Well...” she sifted uneasily, “that’s the kind of fight I want to lead. One of kindness begetting kindness. Surely it’s no longer an impossibility, with everyone now finally knowing each other even if they’re miles and poles apart.”

Bruno and Tom smiled.

“You sound just like the heroes in seinen animes,” Bruno teased her.

“Oye!” Madzistrale blushed, her dark eyes flaring.

“I mean that as a compliment; you always ended up making a reality out of the stories we were raised on. No one believed in Santa Claus until some weird friends and siblings, at Christmas, ended up making an entire neighborhood free of worries, for every year since their arrival,” Bruno gave them a wink.

He stretched his hands and smiled, his mind already looking at sources of inspiration around his workshops.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make you guys the coolest pair of sticks you haven’t seen.” He paused, “wait, doesn’t Gabi want one?”

“He can’t, because of his condition. Any excessive exercise might trigger it off, so he has to take it easy,” Tom explained.

“Oh right… I keep forgetting, he always looks so motivated,” Bruno’s eyes’ saddened at the thought.

“To him, every day is precious, so he enjoys them to the fullest,” Madzistrale reassured him, even though she smiled just as sadly.

As they were about to leave his shop, Bruno called out to them from behind his workplace:

“By the way, they’re simply called bastion, you know? As in the English variant of your French’s baton? Just saying… that would have been way more comprehensible than your sadakacha and yatok-something.”

The siblings laughed, Madzistrale then pulling out her tongue in a grimace to her friend.

**

As they walked home, Tom looked at his sister, and suddenly grasped her into his side and gave a peck on her cheek.

Madzistrale giggled;

“What was that for?”

“Nothing. I simply love my self-proclaimed idiotic sister; she’s much wiser than I.”

“Stop it,” Madzistrale squirmed. She however smiled gratefully at her brother, and returned the peck. “Let’s just hope it doesn’t ever happen, the time where we would need to fight such a war. I still haven’t met my soulmate and built my family…”

Tom smiled softly and continued to nestle his sister under his arm.

“Don’t worry. Besides, I’ll always protect you. That’s my job.”

“Oye, don’t say that! You have to think about your future wife too!”

Tom scoffed and gestured around.

“There would need to actually exist some decent women without a power-freak attitude and princess lifestyle where the slightest amount of dirt will make them faint...”

Madzistrale blew him a raspberry and hugged him tightly.

“You’ll find her, just as I’ll find mine. Let’s trust in the Big Boss’ ways of doing things,” she firmly stated, grasping once again the cross beneath her fabric.

Tom smiled, and as they continued walking, he made a silent wish that he kept to himself.