Hershel Layton One Shots

En Garde

"Like... this?"

"Not quite, dear. Strengthen your grip and rotate your wrist slightly."

As I looked at the sword in my hand, I gently sighed.

The Professor always makes it look easy... This is harder than I thought it would be.

Earlier that day, I had come to him with a request: I wished for him to train me in practicing my swordsmanship. The unexpected plea had surprised him at first, but he accepted nonetheless after having heard my explanation; being capable of properly wielding any sword-like weapon had always been a goal of mine, and our situation had convinced me it was the right time for it. The two of us were in the process of solving a mystery, one that had turned our investigation into a perilous adventure, and I wanted to be able to defend myself in case I was soon to be faced with great dangers.

Although he agreed to train me, the Professor opposed the idea of using real swords, especially without wearing adequate equipment, so he instead decided to pay a visit to the antique store of the town we were staying in to borrow a pair of replica swords. And here we were now, at the edge of the woods, each with a sword in hand, facing one another at a short distance.

"Here, let me show you."

As he spoke, Hershel planted his blade into the ground before he approached me; once standing in front of me, he opened his right hand, smiling kindly.

"Do you mind giving me your hand?"

Invaded with a sudden timidity, I sensed my skin redden.

"N-No..."

With my consent, he put his hand over mine and positioned it properly, showing me the correct way to hold my sword: but I was too busy chasing the butterflies in my stomach to truly take in his instructions, my mind solely focused on the feeling of his firm yet soft palm against my skin.

"Your stance also requires improvement." He declared as he leaned closer to me.

Soon, before I even knew it, he was standing right behind me, our right hands still joined, his head only a few inches from mine.

"May I?" He asked in a soft voice.

His breath caressed the nape of my neck, sending shivers down my spine and rendering me even more bashful.

"Y-Yes-" I replied without even knowing which part of my body he wished to hold.

His left hand came in touch with my waist and my heart skipped a beat at the sensation of his gentle though strong grip.

"You need to pivot your body to the left. Like so."

As his calm words slithered into my ears, his hands oriented my body delicately, just as my own began to tremble slightly.

"Your stance is perfect this way." He said with an audible smile. "It's essential you remember it, all right?"

Unable to speak, I silently nodded in response. Hershel removed his hands from my body, which allowed me to finally catch my breath, and I felt the blush on my cheeks linger as I watched him walk back to his spot; pulling his sword out of the ground, he held it firmly in front of him as he stood before me.

"Now, let us begin."

He proceeded to help me practice parrying and attacking, but while I was quick to get a handle on defense, my offensive maneuvers lacked skills: not once did I manage to land a hit on him or even get close enough to him before he could deflect my attacks.

Although slightly out of breath, I refused to give up and launched myself at the Professor, only for him to effortlessly dodge my swing.

"Too slow." He declared as he sidestepped.

In a swift movement, I backed away from him by a few steps, before I lowered my sword to the ground.

"I can't do this, Professor." I stated with a defeated look. "I will never reach your level of mastery..."

Mirroring my body language, he lowered his sword as well: and the second he did so, a smirk appeared on my face.

"[Y/N], you should not-"

But before he could finish his sentence, I suddenly dashed forward and swung my blade at him, an attack he only barely managed to block.

"Leading me to lower my guard in order to take me by surprise... How impressive." He praised me with a smile.

Not letting myself get distracted by his compliment, I made use of the fact I had the upper hand to keep attacking him, relentlessly, with determination, forcing him to back away with each blow, little by little; until his back came in contact with a tree, stopping him in his tracks.

Still grinning, I leaned close to him and put my dull blade against his neck, the unsharpened iron gently brushing his skin.

"Am I still too slow, Professor?" I asked in a taunt.

But as I looked at him, my smile vanished when I noticed the blush on his cheeks and his slightly-open mouth: only then did I realize how close we were, our bodies pressed against one another, our faces only inches apart, so close our breaths could merge. And I, too, could now feel my face redden, my expression of sheer confidence having disappeared, replaced with one of bashfulness. And yet, I was unable to move as I stared into his eyes, my heartbeat picking up speed by the second.

"... You were fast, indeed." He asserted as he stared back into my eyes. "But I'm sure you can be even faster than that, [Y/N]... So what do you say we continue training and you demonstrate to me how fast you can be?"

His insinuative words made me gasp quietly, unaccustomed to hearing him employ such a provocative tone. But despite how much I was blushing, I smiled and maintained a confident demeanor.

"I would be more than happy to, Professor..."