Zinnia Demitasse
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Gabriel - First Day of School
🕑 Added 2025-09-09 23:16:56 +0000 UTC“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Gabriel, no. It’s not a discussion.”
Gabriel sat across from me in a comically little chair, his eyes narrowed. It wasn’t often that him and I argued. Most of the time he acquiesced to me. However, when it had come to our son's schooling, Gabriel felt something fierce about it. It had been a struggle since.
“Our child needs to learn mathematics,” I tried again. “Reading. History. Science, Gabriel. Not sword fighting.”
We sat in the middle of the commons room outside of the preschool, waiting for the last bell to ring. “Sword fighting is an integral part of anyone's education,” Gabriel protested.
“Since when?”
“Maybe it isn’t part of a standard education. But, it is clearly the thing lacking within the Night Market.”
“Sword fighting?” I stared at him incredulously. “You think it would be good to give five year olds swords and have them run free around the market? Because that’s what would happen. Or is it just our child that you feel strongly about this insane notion?”
“He needs to know how to protect himself and others from bullies,” Gabriel growled.
“He needs to do that with words. Not a pointy end of a sword.”
“We would blunt it.”
Behind us, the door opened. The first day of school was coming to an end, and I felt like Gabriel and I had been sitting in chairs made for small children for the better part of the day. I was exhausted and surprised that Gabriel had not declared that he had to go to work. Now, looking up, I could see that other parents had begun to gather to pick their children up from school.
I looked at Gabriel with a narrowed gaze. “We are tabling this. It’s his first day. He’s going to be exhausted. It was a lot for him and we do not need to be arguing about sword fighting.” Especially since there were parents now eyeing the Warden and the Night Market like we were their favorite entertainment and source for gossip. I wondered how long they had been listening in.
Standing, we looked at the door as one by one, students were let out. Our son was fourth in line, dragging his backpack on the floor. When he saw us though, his eyes were bright as he bounded over. He launched himself into my arms, wrapping them tight around my neck.
“I drew a picture of a sun today!” he exclaimed loudly. “I had never seen a sun before!”
I gasped in feigned surprise. “A sun? You’ll have to teach me all about it.”
He then turned to Gabriel, grinning at his father with his two front teeth missing. “Teacher also said that you could come to class for parent share day. I told her you had the coolest swords, and she said if you wanted to, you could give a demonstration.”
The smug look that crossed Gabriel’s face was something I would never live down for the rest of my days. Slowly, he turned to me, standing a bit taller. I cursed myself as I unconsciously made the lanterns brighter around him.
“Is that so?” he asked. “Well, I think I should speak to your teacher. Perhaps come and teach the students about sword safety each week.”
“Really, daddy? That would be so cool1”
“I think it would be cool as well, son.”
I rolled my eyes. “Sword safety is fine. Holding swords is–”
“I will be commissioning small wooden swords,” Gabriel said. “How many students do you have in your class?” Reaching out, he took our son from me, placing him on his hip. I followed behind him, watching father and son animatedly talk about sword instruction. If Gabriel had his choice, he would be ordering swords and small Velvet Guard uniforms. I was suddenly terrified of the small street army he would be forming.
I had to remember, though, that this Gabriel was not like the one I had first met. The one who had thrown me in a pit of bodies. Who had no light behind his eyes. This Gabriel looked at time with his son as the most precious moments of his life. This Gabriel came home and asked me about moral conflict. He spoke more. Shared more. Cared a lot more.
Sighing, I caught up with the two of them, taking Gabriel’s hand. He looked down at me, squeezing my hand as I gave him a soft smile.
“You must understand, however,” he was telling our son. “A sword is not a toy. If I see you or any of your classmates using them against each other, action will be taken.”
Our child nodded resolutely, in an exact mirror of his father's expression.
Leaning my head on Gabriel’s shoulder, I sighed. I supposed I would need to help him fill out the proper forms for an extracurricular class. Because the Warden was going to become the school’s new sword instructor.
Comments
Avery
Something about there being just a regular ol' kindergarten somewhere in the Night Market is endlessly precious to me
A sandwich
Hi this is the cutest thing ever, easily in my top 5 fave extra things you've written
