Toshik started to say something to Bryson, but Debo’s laughter cut through the room. He was laughing at a distraught Lilu, whose green hair was blown out of its bun and laying in a frizzy mess down her back.
Bryson and Toshik couldn’t hide their amusement either. Lilu wasn’t ready for Yama’s speed since her eyes and reflexes weren’t accustomed to this sort of thing.
Debo finally regained his composure and said, “I’m guessing you didn’t get the time.”
Lilu shook her head, her eyes still wide with awe.
“I’ll do it,” Director Buredo said. As he took the timer from Lilu, Yama resituated herself at the starting spot.
“Go!” Debo shouted.
It was over in an instant. Now Bryson realized why Lilu was traumatized. It was like Yama teleported as if she was from the Dark Realm’s Dev Kingdom. He caught a glimpse of a blurred trail of color—or maybe he just imagined it. She was significantly faster than Toshik.
“You really know how to get me going,” Toshik said with a smile.
“Shut up,” Yama snapped.
As the two began their typical bickering, Bryson and Lilu readied themselves for their sprint. Bryson had both hands resting on the floor and focused intensely on his first step. The push-off was critical. He thought about what Debo always told him:
Acceleration should be instantaneous, not steady. Eventually you should reach a point when the ready stance or even a slight bend in the knee isn’t necessary. You should be able to push-off from any position and hit your speed percentage immediately. That is what will make you dangerous.
After replaying this lecture in his mind, Bryson decided to relax from the stance he was in. He stood up, his arms dangling casually. Toshik laughed, but Debo smiled—a sincere and proud smile. This would make up for his awful display during the captain’s test.
For the third time, Debo shouted, “Go!”
When Bryson took the first step, he knew he was golden. While reaching the opposite wall, Toshik’s face was still shifting from amusement to bewilderment. Knocking the smug look off his face pleased Bryson more than it probably should have.
Yama, too, looked a bit surprised. She must have noticed from the corner of her eye. Since Lilu was much slower, Yama had time to avert her attention.
The best reaction, however, was Director Buredo’s. He was an unflappable man, so his arched eyebrows said a lot.
Bryson’s ego swelled, so when he walked past Toshik, he swept his golden bangs from his face and asked, “Did you blink?”
Toshik stammered slightly before realizing there was nothing he could say.
After everyone calculated the times of their partner, it was time for their speed percentages to be announced. Director Debo opened up the first folded parchment. “With her first ever speed percentage test, Lilu ran at 20%, which is average for someone not from the Adren Kingdom. We’ll definitely improve on that throughout the year.”
Lilu’s lips pursed in disappointment. “I’m sorry, Director. As royalty, I should be exceeding expectations in all categories.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” he replied. “Like I said, you were trained differently before now. We’re not expecting you to be perfect, and you will improve. Director Buredo and I will make sure of this.”
He opened up the next parchment. “Ah, Toshik. No surprise here. You clocked in at 42%. Very nicely done. You represent the Adren Kingdom splendidly, and, like Lilu, you will improve on that percentage.”
Toshik gave a slight nod.
Debo moved on. When he opened the third parchment, he grinned wide. “Bryson, you clocked in at 41%.”
Bryson couldn’t hide his satisfaction. Meanwhile, Toshik seemed sick to his stomach.
Yama couldn’t resist the chance to take a stab at her rival. “Take into consideration that three to four percent of Toshik’s speed is coming from Adrenergy, it seems that Bryson’s natural speed is faster than Toshik’s.” She winked at Toshik. “That’s either very impressive on Bryson’s part or very pathetic on Toshik’s.”
Deep resentment flooded Toshik’s face. “Stop it, now,” Director Buredo commanded to his two Jestivan.
Debo wiggled his fingers together in anticipation for the final parchment. “I already know this next number will be high.” As he unfolded it, he shook his head and laughed. “53%. My goodness, Lita Yama.”
Bryson’s stomach dropped. That number was ludicrous for someone of her age—someone of any age, really.
“You’re nearly three times as fast as I am,” Lilu said, smiling with admiration.
“That’s not how I look at it,” Yama said.
“And how do you look at it?” Debo asked.
“I look at it as exactly what it is. I’m 53% of max speed, 47% short of my goal. I’m just scraping past the halfway mark.”
The room fell silent for a moment. “You want to reach max speed?” Debo asked.
“Of course.”
“Not even Director Buredo is close to that speed. No one is. Nobody even knows where the two-second mile came from.”
“It exists for a reason,” Yama said, frowning. “Someone achieved it in the past. Regardless of how far in the past it was, it still happened—and it will happen again. I must reach max speed.”
Yama took several steps toward Debo and looked him dead in the eye. Although she was significantly shorter, he blanched as she asked, “Are you doubting me, Director?”
One side of his mouth curved upward. “Not at all, Yama. Your resolve sends chills down my spine.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “I will cherish the time spent training you into what you want to become. You have a fighter’s spirit.”
“Thank you, sir.”
The rest of the day was fairly boring. Because of Lilu, the training was basic. Bryson assumed the Directors didn’t want to break her confidence by separating her from the others.
One of these drills was suicides—sprinting from the starting line to another spot and back, and then out again, each time to a further line. It was simplistic, but for Lilu, it was a type of conditioning she wasn’t used to. Bryson spent a lot of the morning and afternoon patting her on the back as she puked into a trash can. He could only think about the surprise she was in for when they finally got to the real speed training.
When it came time to end the day, the Directors left and Jilly came to pick Yama up and take a walk around the school grounds. But Bryson, Toshik, and Lilu lingered in the commons. Lilu was sprawled on the floor. She had given up on attempting to stand, for each time she tried, her legs would not cooperate. She was moaning about how disgusting she felt, but Bryson found her as attractive as ever. He imagined wiping the sweat from her forehead, looking into her ivy green eyes. An exhausted lady of royalty looking up at him with a desperate longing for something that would distract her from a long day’s struggles. He thought about what that something was, then boldly leaned in for the kiss.
Then a low moan dragged him from his daydreaming. It was Lilu. She was moaning with pleasure as Toshik massaged her shoulders.
Bryson felt like an idiot. As always, while he was imagining things, someone else did things.
“So Bryson, how’d you get so fast?” Toshik asked.
He couldn’t believe Toshik had the nerve to casually strike up a conversation while touching Lilu, but he reluctantly answered anyways. “Debo taught me everything I know.”
“Impressive. At first, I was a bit pissed that you showed me up, but I respect that sort of skill. You had me nervous last week with that pitiful display during the captain’s test.” He gave Bryson a wide grin.
Bryson was unsure how to respond. Was that an insult, or a compliment? “Err, thanks?”
Toshik chuckled. “It was a compliment. I apologize if it sounded bad. I’m not good at praising guys.”
“I understand.” Bryson got up and put on his hoodie. Raindrops pattered against the building. “I’m going to head home. You two enjoy your night,” he said dully.
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Bryson walked out of Phesaw with a bittersweet feeling. On one hand, he hated Toshik for being bold enough to make moves on Lilu, but on the other, he was happy to have gained some of his respect. The most important part was making sure his teammates were on the same page as he was.
As Bryson lackadaisically strolled through the rain toward Telejunction, he heard someone shout for him from behind. “Bryson! Hold on!”
He turned around to see Lilu running toward him. Her green hair was sopping wet from the rain, and she was still in her shorts and t-shirt.
“Why are you out here like that?” he said. “You’re going to get sick.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You’re not my mom. Anyways, I had a question.”
Bryson’s heart fluttered. “And what’s that?” he asked as casually as he could as he took off his jacket and set it on her shoulders.
“Well—” she paused. Her eyes became fixated on his bare chest. On his right pectoral muscle was a giant scar in the shape of a T, and on the left was a similar scar in the shape of a 2.
Lilu pressed a finger against his chest and ran it across the wound, and Bryson’s heart fluttered again.
“What happened?” she asked, sounding sincerely concerned for him.
“I don’t know. I don’t remember a time when I didn’t have this scar.”
She looked at him with unease. “That wasn’t on accident.”
Bryson let out a laugh. “Obviously not.” He reached behind Lilu and pulled up the jacket’s hood for her. “Now, what did you want to ask?”
She paused. Bryson knew she wanted to discuss his scar some more, but he wasn’t interested. Her shoulders slumped and she asked, “Can Director Debo help me with speed percentage training outside of class? I know he teaches you at home, so I’m wondering if I can come over some nights to learn with you.”
This was his chance. “Of course,” he said, trying to sound nonchalant.
“Awesome!” she shouted. “I won’t come tonight because my body is dead, but I’ll try one of these nights this week. See ya!” She turned around and sprinted back toward the school, splashing through puddles as she flew down the expansive hill. “I’ll give your jacket back tomorrow!” she yelled.
While Bryson stood shirtless in the downpour and watched her disappear, all he could think about was how much he didn’t want the jacket back. He liked the thought of her having a piece of him wrapped around her body. If only he was aware of the stupid smile on his face.
* * *
The sun sat high in the sky as the sizzling heat of midday beat down upon the grounds. Outside Phesaw’s Morality Wing, a lone young man lay exhausted in the grass. His matted black hair was lathered in sweat and his breathing was heavy. Not experienced with physical strain, his body and lungs felt as if they would shut down at any second.
He wasn’t a fighter, so being forced to train like one was frustrating. Having to wear athletic clothes only made it worse, and the humidity made it feel like he was layered in heavy wool.
He was staring at a gymnasium off in the distance. The door creaked open and an old man poked his head around the corner. It was Archaic Director Senex. He shook his head. “That will not do, Agnos. You must work. Although we’re not counting on you to fight, you still must know the basics of it. And before we can get to the basics, you must train your body.”
Agnos lay still for a second before he pushed himself up to his knees. “You always separate me and Rhyparia, Director Senex.”
“And that’s because my most important job is to keep my students safe.” Director Senex looked at him gravely. “Do you want to get hurt?”
“No, sir,” Agnos replied.
Senex smiled. “Good. Then I will continue to keep you separate from Rhyparia while she learns. Back to your pushups, Zana Agnos,” he said, then disappeared back into the gym.
It only took a couple pushups—if they could even be called that—before he put down his knees and cheated. Pathetic, yes, but he didn’t care. He had no intentions to fight, nor did he believe in combat—unless it was that of the mind.
The ground shook violently beneath him, halting any of his thoughts. It would have scared him if he wasn’t used to it. Then it shook again. Then it rattled for close to ten seconds. A few leaves rocked slowly to the ground below.
Agnos gazed toward the gym again. What in the world was Rhyparia’s ability? Not only did Director Senex refuse to allow Agnos inside the shed while she was training, he wouldn’t let him in at all. This sorely ticked him off. If there was one thing he hated more than anything, it was secrecy. He always wanted answers, and it explained why he cherished his ancient.
Agnos decided that the sporadic vibrating of the ground was an excuse to give up on exercising. He walked over to his bag and pulled out his glasses and the book by the Unbreakable. Nothing could distract him from reading.
* * *
On the opposite end of Phesaw, outside of the Spirit Wing, two more Jestivan were in the midst of their training session. Agnos would have been jealous, for this session seemed more like leisure than work. Spirit Director Neaneuma was strolling through the gardens while Jilly and Tashami followed closely behind her.
Neaneuma’s wrinkled lips pursed together as she glanced at the destruction around her. “Jilly, look at what you’ve done to my flowers over the past two weeks,” she said wearily.
Jilly bowed her head with a guilty look, further covering her eyes with her golden sunhat. “I’m sorry, Director Neaneuma. I’ll get better with my control. It’s just very diffi—” She was cut short as Director Neaneuma raised her hand.
“Go ahead, Jilly. Let’s try this again.”
The blond girl took a nervous gulp. She spread both arms and swung them forward, causing a heavy blast of wind to plow through the garden. Several plants were ripped up by their roots and tossed through the air. The most humiliating thing was the ripe tomato that slapped Director Neaneuma in the face.
The elderly woman wiped the juice from her eyes while Jilly resumed apologizing. “I’m always messing up! I’m so sorry!”
“It’s not only you, Jilly. Both of you are frustrating. I have two students who are polar opposites. I have you, a girl who can’t hold back.” She then turned her gaze to the ivory-haired Tashami. “And I have you, a boy who only holds back. I have two extremes. There is no middle ground.”
Tashami simply returned her stare as a gentle breeze blew past. “I know that’s your breeze, Tashami,” Neaneuma said.
“I like soothing winds,” he said. “They’re pleasing enough to be noticed and appreciated, but not violent enough to stand out.”
“As much as I also love calm winds, I still must prepare you for combat, and calm winds will serve you no purpose then. You hold back so much.”
The breeze rustled through Tashami’s hair as he explained himself. “I hold back because there is nothing to be gained from bringing my power to the public’s attention. I’m not headed down the same road as my father. This is especially dangerous for us people of the Spirit Kingdom. It’s good to believe in perseverance, but too much faith can blind us from the reality of our limitations. That’s how you bite off more than you can chew.”
Tashami picked a rose from the garden. “This is my logic,” he said. “The less power I exert, the stronger my belief of having less power becomes. I don’t want to think I can succeed at everything. My dad thought that, and that was his downfall.”
“Who was your father?” Jilly asked.
“‘Was’? Physically, my dad is still out there … somewhere. Mentally?” Tashami tossed the rose away. “That’s a different story.”
* * *
Inside a large, dimly lit corridor, the silhouettes of three people could be seen dashing around. The curvaceous Passion Director Venustas stood at the center of the room. Flashing a white smile brightly contrasting with the darkness of the room, she casually dodged attacks from her two Jestivan.
Himitsu and Olivia were composing a seq
uence of synchronized techniques in order to land a blow on the elusive director. Himitsu fought from the far corners of the corridor, his black flames blending with the shadows.
Since Olivia wasn’t capable of using her Passion Energy, her approach was the opposite of Himitsu. Venustas was slightly more careful in avoiding her forceful blows. If Olivia made contact, she knew she’d feel it for a long time.
While concealing his presence behind the flames, Himitsu waved his hand forward, launching a line of black fire at Venustas. The Passion Director wiggled her nose before casually stepping to the left, the jet of fire blazing just past her. The sound of heavy footsteps alerted her to snap her head to the right, and as she did so, she felt a stinging wind sweep past her cheek from Olivia’s tiny fist.
But Olivia wasn’t done yet. Venustas heard the girl plant her foot in the ground instantaneously after missing her punch. It was a loud pivot—even for Olivia—signaling the likelihood of a vicious kick. If it was any other student’s, Venustas would simply catch it, but this was Olivia … she would break her hand. So she wisely ducked low to the ground. Her long hair untucked itself from inside her cloak as Olivia’s foot shot over her head. Suddenly Venustas realized that she was actually being forced to try. As she pondered this, Himitsu hit her in the back and tackled her to the ground.
The Passion Director lay motionless on the stone floor. She was breathing much heavier than normal. Himitsu could feel the fullness of her chest rising underneath his head, and he quickly jumped to his feet. He extended a helping hand, which she graciously accepted. He was happy it was too dark for her to notice his face flushing red.
“Good job with that combo,” Venustas said, waving her hand at the candles around the room as fires erupted on their wicks. “I lost focus on the smell of your flames because of Olivia’s continuous attacks. She gave you the opening, and you took it.”
“Thank you,” they replied.
“Himitsu, what are you going to do when you’re put in a face-to-face, one-on-one encounter? Do you honestly think you can stab every enemy in the back?”
He smirked. “If I do my job right, then yes. If I end up in a situation you described, that means I failed as an assassin.”