By: Gold Demona
"Mommy! Mommy! Can I have a scythe?" I blurted out as I watched the final match of Kalm's Annual Tournament of the Blade. This has been the highlight of the year for me since I was able to recognize the art of scythe fighting. To this my mom replied, "Absolutely not! I'm barely comfortable with you watching these violent tournaments, let alone you using a weapon with a sharp blade." I didn't want to take that answer, but she was my mom, so I had no choice but to comply.
"Where's daddy?" I asked, "He's gonna miss the end of the tournament." My mom was never really into the tournaments, but even she had some idea who the guys up fighting were. One was a scythe-wielder from some town nobody knew about, and the other guy was a tall guy with long white hair and wearing all black. He carried a sword that was longer than he was tall. He was from a military division called SOLDIER. "Wherever your father is, I'm sure he's trying his best to get here," my mom said to me as I gazed at the action.
I was young, a little over six years old. I was not and did not like the other girls in Kalm at all. I always found them to be too strange, so I never went near them. They would sometimes be playing with their Maggie Moogle dolls, dressing them up and such. My uncle gave me a Maggie Moogle doll once. Instead of putting her in a dress or a tiara, I gave her a full suit of armor, a sword that she wore on a belt around her waist, and a scythe that I stuck to her little hand with a safety pin. They were handmade by me, of course, because the Maggie Moogle Company didn't have the sense to make a Blade Warrior Maggie Moogle.
The guy from SOLDIER performed his finishing move, winning the match and the tournament. Nobody ever really dies in the tournament because the rules restrict the blows to minor injuries, so the scythe guy only ended up with a million small cuts. I screamed and cheered with the rest of the crowd as Mr. SOLDIER was declared this year's Blade Master. The Tournament of the Blade was organized by a multi-million-gil corporation called Shin-Ra. They did this in honor of the legendary King Blade of New Figaro, son of the even more legendary King Edgar of the original city of Figaro. King Blade was a master swordsman, so the tournament was set up for anyone who wielded a bladed weapon. The scythe has always been my favorite weapon, so I was always excited when a scythe-fighter entered.
I was lost in the excitement when I was suddenly lifted up off the ground by two very large arms (large from a six-year-old's perspective). A very deep and familiar voice came from the person who had lifted me.
"Enjoying the tournament, Moira?"
I looked up to see my dad smiling at me, carrying me in his arms. I smiled back and said, "Yea, daddy! But you missed the whole thing. The man from SOLDIER won the tournament."
"A man from SOLDIER, huh? Let me see." My dad looked up at the winner and seemed to almost recognize him. "Hmm," he mumbled pondering, "Could that be SOLDIER's famous Sephiroth?"
"Sephiroth? You mean the one who claims to be the world's greatest swordsman?" my mom asked curiously.
"He doesn't claim it himself, dear," my dad replied. "That's just what everyone else says about him."
"He looks pretty young to be a member of SOLDIER. He doesn't seem to be any older than fifteen."
I decided to jump in, "He must be good if he can beat a scythe man. I want a scythe."
My dad looked at me with the "quizzical father" look on his face. "You really like scythes, don't you?"
"Yea, can I have one? Pwease?!" I pleaded, giving him the saddest, most begging puppy face a child could ever think of giving.
At that moment, dad looked at mom, who gave him the "don't even think about it" look that all good moms know how to do. He looked back at me and said, "Maybe we should wait until you're grown up first."
I didn't want to take "no" for an answer, but despite my love of weaponry, I was an obedient child and submitted. "Awww… Ok." I finally said reluctantly.
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That night, we all ate dinner in front of the TV, where we could watch the TV broadcast version of the tournament. It wasn't as good as actually being part of the live audience, but I still liked watching the scythe-fighter in action. Plus, dad was able to catch all that he had missed. After it was all over I decided to try again with the pleading.
"Can I have a scythe?"
"No," my mom answered quickly.
Being the persistent little six-year-old I was, I pressed on.
"No," my mom answered quicker than before.
"Can I just—"
"…Ok." Unfortunately, my mom was more stubborn than I was.
After a long silence, my dad finally decided to speak up. "Moira, we told you that you may get a scythe when you're all grown up and ready to use one."
"But I want one now," I whined obnoxiously.
To this my mom answered, "You'll never get one by demanding it like that, and you won't get one from either of us." She glared at dad. "Do we have that clear?"
My dad noted the glare and said, "Uh, like I said, when you are all grown up, you can have a scythe."
"…Ok." I whined and went to my room. I whined some more to myself for a little bit, but I quickly got over it.