by Zen DiPietro
“Old saying. Read it in a book. Never mind. So, when can we do this super-impressive stunt show? I’m excited now.”
“Well, one of them would be difficult to impossible on campus. So how about just the one, and if it fails to impress, we can figure out a way to do the other?”
“It’ll do. Let’s get started.”
She laughed. “Tomorrow.”
He looked disappointed. “Not now? I was kind of hoping for now. This topology work is kicking my ass.”
She gave him a quick peck and stood. “Sorry. Homework first. Tomorrow, I’ll take your shoes off.”
“Knock my socks off,” he corrected.
“Whatever. Just know that tomorrow, you will have no footwear at all.”
“That’s not what it means,” he sighed, pretending to be aggrieved.
“Just do your math,” she told him.
The next day, after running in the morning, a full day of classes, and a training session with Drew and Whelkin, Emiko got everything together to give Drew a good impressing he wouldn’t soon forget.
She hoped.
“Ready?” She pushed a black bag into his arms as soon as he came into her room.
“Almost.” He set the bag down. “Let’s go get Val and Jane.”
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” She was wary of showing them too much of what she was capable of.
“Why? Are you going to be killing someone with your bare hands?”
“No. No killing.”
He rubbed his chin in faux contemplation. “Hm. Will you be breaking any laws?”
“No.”
“Will you be wearing chartreuse?”
“No. Why?” She zipped up her backpack.
“I just don’t think it would be a good color on you.”
She laughed. “Well, no. None of that.”
“Then we’re in the clear, I think. We don’t have to pretend we don’t have any skills, or that we aren’t exceptional. We just have to be cool about how we might use those skills someday.”
“Right.” And he was right. The more intensive her schooling became, the more important it became for them to have something recreational to let off some of the pressure. “Okay, we’ll ask them on the way. Grab that bag.”
Val and Jane were instantly intrigued, and agreed to come along for what Drew promised to be a “spectacular showing of bravery and skill.”
She didn’t know about showing bravery, but she was about to show off all kinds of skill.
She’d prepared their basement dojo ahead of time, so when they entered, they all saw the large targets she’d set up against the back wall.
“Oooh.” Jane clapped her hands. “I don’t know what this is, but it’s going to be good.”
Emiko took off her backpack and slid a bandolier, heavy with knives, over her shoulders and snapped it into place. Then she put a belt around her waist and slid more knives into it.
She sneaked a peek at Drew. He was playing it cool, but his right eyebrow had raised ever so slightly, telling her he was, in fact, deeply intrigued.
“You’ve done this before, right?” he asked. “You’re not, like, giving this a whirl for the first time right now?”
She smirked at him, then pointed. “If you don’t mind, could you all stand over there?”
They did as asked, and she lined herself up against the large target. It was square, with concentric circles leading inward to the bullseye. She steadied the harness with her right hand to ensure it wouldn’t shift, then in rapid succession, threw three knives.
Thunk, thunk, thunk.
They landed just left of the center of the target, dead center, and just to the right, in perfect intervals, with the blades oriented at precisely the same angles.
Val and Jane cheered and clapped.
Drew’s eyebrow lifted another centimeter, as did one corner of his mouth.
She retrieved the three knives, replacing them into the bandolier, then returned to her previous position.
This time, she threw two knives to the top of a circle, threw another two at the bottom, and followed up with one of the longer knives from her belt buried dead center.
She’d created a perfect square, then put the last knife in the middle.
Val and Jane broke out into more applause.
“Wow!” Val exclaimed.
Emiko retrieved the knives.
“Got any trick shots?” Drew asked.
“There are no trick shots in knife throwing. Only accurate throws and inaccurate throws.”
“So, you can’t do something like throw knives with a blindfold?”
She shrugged. “I could try.”
Val and Jane exchanged a wary look.
“Why not?” Drew asked. “Sounds fun.”
“Okay. Do you have a blindfold?”
“I have my socks,” he said. “They’re still on my feet.”
“I am not putting your sock anywhere near my face.”
He sighed dramatically. “Okay, let’s see.” His eyes fell on Jane. “Your headband! That would work.”
Jane asked, “You want my headband?”
“If you please.” Drew gave her his most charming smile.
She pulled it off, still looking dubious.
He settled the cloth over Emiko’s eyes. “You can’t see, can you?”
“Nope.”
“Okay, then.” He moved away.
“Are you clear?”
“Fire away,” he said.
The trick to throwing blind was to keep her feet and chin exactly in the same place. Move them the slightest bit, and it was all over. In her mind, she pictured the large center target and the smaller one to each side.
She pulled one of the longer knives from her belt and threw it at the center target, then whipped out a pair of the smaller ones and threw them simultaneously at the smaller ones.
From the reaction of squeals, laughter, and clapping, she determined she’d succeeded even before she removed the headband from over her eyes.
Each knife stabbed into the center of a target.
“Tada.” She bowed.
“I dunno,” Drew said. “That was pretty awesome, but my socks are still on. Don’t you have something super showy, like to impress people at competitions or something?”
“Well, there is this one thing. It’s kind of dangerous, though.”
“Ooooh, dangerous.” Drew grinned. “Let’s definitely do that.”
She looked to Val and Jane, who shrugged and nodded. By this time, it seemed, they were convinced that she wouldn’t stab their eyes out.
“All right. Move to the back corner, please, just in case.” She didn’t anticipate anything going wrong, and the only person really in danger would be herself. But she’d done this thousands of times and had no worries.
She removed the bandolier and the belt, and gripped a smaller knife in each hand.
She backed up to the furthest point of the opposite wall, then took two running steps, reached for the floor with her closed fists to execute a cartwheel, then did a tucked front flip. As she rotated, as soon as she got her eyes on the target, she snapped her hands forward, landing on her feet as the knives slammed into the target.
Both right in the center.
Her audience of three cheered and applauded
Drew bent down, removed his shoes, peeled off his socks, and waved them like flags of surrender. “My socks are yours, my lady, and fairly won.”
“Keep your socks,” Emiko said. “Tomorrow you can buy me lunch. A really good one.”
“Okay. But wait. What’s in the bag?” He reached for the bag he’d carried for her.
“Just some shabby clothes that need to be recycled.”
“Why make me carry it?”
“It seemed funny.”
They all laughed.
After doing some more throws to entertain her friends, they headed back to their room.
On the way, they talked, teased, and continued laughing. It was nic
e. And when Val and Jane asked them if they wanted to come to their room for a drink and some Bennite card game she’d never heard of, she was actually regretful to have to say no.
“Another night,” she promised. “I have an exam coming up on Kanaran culture and history, and it’s not going to be easy.”
It was nice to have a little group of friends who not only didn’t mind her quirks, but liked the unique things that made her different.
“Should I go?” Drew asked after closing the door of her room behind him.
“Do you have something you can work on?”
“Always.”
“Then stay. If you want to.” She liked him being nearby, even when they were working on different things.
The night of Emiko’s knife throwing demonstration, they studied for hours. Rather than going back to his room, an exhausted Drew slept in her room.
From that point on, though, it became more and more common for her to sleep at his dorm, or for him to sleep at hers. Halfway through their second year, he moved into her room with her. They’d both turned eighteen already, and nobody would care.
Emiko liked having his things mixed in with hers. Not that he owned more than she did. Even though the room was only meant for one person, it worked just fine for them.
Right around that same time, Whelkin, who had previously seemed satisfied with her efforts and progress, suddenly seemed displeased with her efforts. He pushed her much harder than before. They met in her basement dojo and trained for hours. By the end, she felt like jelly. Like bruised and battered jelly.
He hit harder, and berated her when she failed to block or evade.
“Again,” he’d say, even as the side of her face felt like it had been caved in. “This time, don’t bend your elbow.”
She’d do it again, as many times as he demanded, but he never had a word of praise for her. He always seemed disappointed in her.
At the infirmary, she was regularly treated for sprains, along with the occasional cracked rib or fractured extremity.
He was harder on her when they worked one on one, but Drew had also noticed the change during their lessons together. He mentioned it to her once, with cautious concern, and they didn’t speak about it again.
She felt like saying anything to complain would be admitting she wasn’t cut out for what she wanted to do. Instead, she endured, and did her best to live up to Whelkin’s increased expectations.
So far, it wasn’t working. He seemed dissatisfied when they began a one-on-one lesson, and only became more so as they went along. When a stomach punch dropped her to her knees, Whelkin shook his head.
“I think we’re done here, until you can get yourself together.”
She sat up, feeling like her guts had been reduced to pudding. “What do you mean?”
“I mean I’m not going to train you again until you’ve shown you’re going to step up. You might have won competitions before you got here, but there are no rules in the real world. No one to call a foul, no one to step in if things get too hard.”
He squatted down beside her. “You know what happens in the world you’re aiming for when you can’t do your job? You die. And you get your team killed. Maybe a lot of innocent people, too. All because you weren’t good enough.”
He stood. “Maybe you should think about getting serious about a career in security. You’d be good enough for that.”
“No!” She struggled to her feet. “I’ll get better.”
“Will you? Can you? You’re small. Not strong enough. Not fast enough. If you can’t overpower someone, you have to either outsmart them or be so fast they can’t get you. I’m working with a brawler right now who would crack you in half like a toothpick if he got his hands on you. And he’s not even an officer yet. What would you do against fully trained officers and mercenaries?”
“I’ll work harder. I’ll weight train. I’ll be strong enough and fast enough. I’m not going to quit.”
He sighed, shaking his head slowly. “You’ve got two months. If I don’t see any improvement, I’ll have you removed from the candidate list.”
He wouldn’t train her for two months? Missing eight weeks of training felt like a momentous loss. On the other hand, having only eight weeks to gain muscle mass and prove that she was strong enough seemed like hardly any time.
“I’ll improve,” she vowed.
He shrugged, as if it didn’t matter to him, then grabbed his bag and left.
She leaned against the wall, then slid down it and ran her hands over her face.
What had just happened? Was she really falling short or was this some sort of test? Either way, she had to put everything she had into the next eight weeks of training.
She mentally calculated her academic load and cross-referenced it against workout time.
She’d cut out her morning runs. No more cardio. She’d increase her caloric intake, with special attention on protein and muscle-building enzymes. Maybe Jane and Val would have some additional dietary suggestions.
If she ate protein bars and nutritional supplement packets between classes, she could skip lunch and get in a second weight training session. She could do a third in the evening, then finish out the day with her academics.
It could work.
It had to.
4
Emiko woke, threw herself out of bed, and immediately opened a protein pack and stuffed it into her mouth as she dressed in workout clothes.
She secured her hair back in its customary little ponytail, then sat and picked up the dermal injector she’d put next to her bed the night before, alongside the protein pack and a mini pack of nutritive biogel.
The injector was easy to use. She lined it up with the crook of her arm and activated it, sending muscle-building compounds and enzymes into her bloodstream, along with a low dose of synthetic hormones.
All legal and aboveboard, Val and Jane had assured her. The two had taken great pleasure in devising her plan for nutrition and supplementing for rapid muscle growth. They’d taken her on for a special project in one of their classes, and intended to use the experience to position themselves at the top of their class.
Emiko was glad that her friends were so ambitious. Maybe that was why she got along with them. But she was even more glad they could help her achieve her goal. Because when all else was stripped away, nothing but her goal mattered.
She was three weeks into her eight-week interim and seeing modest gains. Every morning she woke up, assessed her body, and jumped into action. Her arms and chest constantly felt sore, but that wasn’t a negative. It meant progress, and she was glad to feel those twinges and aches. She imagined her muscle fibers tearing, repairing themselves, and getting bigger. Stronger.
She grabbed her two prepacked bags, and bolted out the door.
At the gym, she utilized her time carefully. She executed compound movements to engage multiple muscle groups in her exercises.
She changed her routine every two days, never letting her body get accustomed to the workout. She pushed, doing everything that felt awkward, hard, and uncomfortable.
By the time her body felt like melted rubber, her time was up. She hit the shower room, getting clean and putting on fresh clothes, then headed for her first class, slurping down another nutritive biogel pouch for hydration and proper blood chemistry along with the whole-food supplement bars Jane and Val had prescribed for her.
They tasted less than delicious, but that didn’t matter.
At least she could sit still in class and let her brain take over while her body recovered. She always felt stiff when she got up at the end of the first class, but she loosened up on the way to the next one, eating and drinking as she went.
At midday, she went back to the gym, then continued with the rest of her classes.
After her last class, she spent an hour in the library, getting a start on her homework for that day. Then she returned to the gym for her most grueling workout of the day.
Afterward, she sat on a
bench in the shower room, digging deep to find the energy to get back to her dorm. She used a dermal injector to administer a small dose of just enough stimulant to get her through the rest of the day. That, too, had been approved by her personal healthcare duo. And bless them for it.
She dragged herself to her dorm. Drew wasn’t there. Odd, since his classes were done for the day. He might have met up with friends, or maybe with classmates to work on something.
She hoped he was having more fun than she was.
Not that fun was important. She wasn’t at the academy for fun. She came here to work, and to be the best.
She was a little sorry to go to bed alone, though. She thought about sending him a goodnight message, but didn’t want to seem clingy. Neither of them liked that. They still didn’t define themselves like other campus couples did. They just fit together, that was all. Being together made sense.
She pulled the blanket up to her chin and embraced the bliss of sleep.
Emiko woke to Drew’s slow breathing in her ear. How he’d managed to climb into the narrow bed without waking her, she didn’t know. She was usually a light sleeper, but maybe her exhaustion had blunted that. Just as well.
She stole a minute to herself before getting up, tracing the shape of his earlobe with her fingertip. Then she rested her hand on his chest to feel the steady thumping of his heart.
Then she threw herself into her daily routine, just as she had the day before, and the day before that.
Halfway through her eight-week struggle, she wasn’t seeing much of Drew, or attending meetings of the dinner club or holo-vid group. She just didn’t have any time or energy to spare. Val clucked over her like a mother hen while she looked after Emiko’s wounds. To her credit, and Jane’s, too, they didn’t berate her for treating her body so badly. They trusted her to do what she felt she needed to.
“Do you have a lot of projects going on?” she asked Drew one evening when they were both in her room, getting ready for bed. “I’ve missed seeing you.”
“I do, but mostly I don’t want to get in your way.” He pulled his pajama shirt over his head and she felt a pang of regret that she was too damn exhausted to do anything more than appreciate the sight of him.