After supper, Sagiri went to the first-year Pentagon to study one of the compulsory twelve subjects taught in all high schools. One among the twelve: World Calculations, Art of War, The Art of Hunting, Building Study, Plant study, Innovation and Technology study, Tribe History study, Tagayia Language Study, Human Anatomy, Fitness Study, Medicine and Weaponry. Galka, being a war high school, concentrated more on the study of the Art of War, Fitness study, Weaponry, and language study. Just like, the schools in the east concentrated more on medicine, plant study, and human anatomy, and for the central high schools, building study, innovation, and technology study, the west, of course, world calculations, art of war, and weaponry. All in all, every student was required to pass at least half of the units to qualify to join the prestigious colleges of Tagayia.
Galka academy gave priority to overall subjects in first year and second year where they start to bend more towards the Art of war. Even so students are required to work on their own so as to pass all subjects. Sagiri picked the Tribe history study book to read. It was about the history of how Tagayia came to be. The history of tribes and the introduction to the twelve subjects. He already knew enough about medicine and enough about the art of innovation. The others, he could just catch up little by little. The only problem was that he kept missing breakfast which made the archive slow.
He did not want to push himself, so with two hours to spare, he went back to the fourth-year Pentagon. He needed to practice with the dagger. Instructor Bekuro had said he would punish him if he had not made progress, and so he needed to catch up. Most students were in the private tribal secret arts arenas at the moment, practicing their secret tribal arts, and so many combat arenas were free. He went into one with figure dummies, and it was completely empty except for Kaka. He moved through the space in silence, bare feet gripping the cold stone as he advanced on the training dummies. His first punch landed with a dull crack, driving deep into the reinforced chest. He followed with another, then a third, each strike controlled and heavy enough to make the frame shudder.
Kaka shifted his stance and kicked. The blow snapped into the ribs, then cut low to the knee joint, hitting the marked vital points without pause. He stepped away instantly, twisting his body aside as if narrowly avoiding a counterstrike that wasn't there. He kept moving, weaving between imaginary enemies, ducking, turning his shoulders, sliding just out of reach. His fists worked in tight, short and efficient strikes while his eyes tracked threats only he could see. He never stopped long enough to be surrounded.
He stepped back and drew a half a dozed dagger when his imaginary enemies surrounded him. three blades left his hand smoothly and struck the target board across the arena, sinking into the mark where a heart would be. Kaka rolled to the side before it hit, rising low and balanced. Another dagger flew to the throat. A fifth on the inner thigh. Each throw was paired with a step, a dodge, a shift in angle. He reaped in the air and released the sixth which his the spot between the eyes on the board before he landed soundlessly.
When he returned to the dummies, he moved through them like a man fighting in the middle of a crowd, striking, slipping, adjusting. The arena echoed with impact and breath as Kaka trained against enemies that lived only in his mind. The display of power was amazing and scary at the same time. Sagiri could not turn back, even so. Kaka was already disgusted with his weakness, and running away now to avoid him could only make him despise him more. He picked a spot at the far end and as far as possible from Kaka. He unsheathed his dagger before a training dummy, and he got into a stance just as Instructor Bekuro had taught him.
He sank into a stance, his dagger tucked behind his fist, before he charged, stabbing the dummy. He practiced the basic stances for a while. Even so, the thundering and grunts from kaka alone echoed and made the arena tremble. He was already good, and he was going that hard. Sagiri changed to the stances for indirect attacking. He tried to make the dagger obey his will, but it slipped and hit the floor with a thud. He tried again with imaginary enemies in his head, but moving the dagger with his will was. He spun it, and it went flying, almost dismantling his legs. He was lucky the boots were reinforced with a hard material.
He tried again and again, but the result was the same. He visualized Instructor Bekuro's movements in his head and tried to repeat them, but it was futile. Kaka was still going at it, and he only left when it was bedtime. Staying outside if you were not under punishment past time also called for punishment, but Sagiri could tell the boy could have kept going. Sagiri stood alone with the dagger in his hand, trying to repeat what Instructor Bekuro had shown him.
He tried again. Advance. Cut. Pivot. He forced himself to go faster and almost lost the blade when his grip slipped. His shoulders tightened, his feet planted when they were supposed to move. He felt heavy, loud, predictable. Nothing flowed the way it had under Instructor Bekuro's eyes.
Sagiri struck the straw dummy and lingered half a second too long. In a real fight, that pause would have gotten him killed. He pulled back, breathing hard, frustration burning in his chest. He knew the movements. He could see them clearly in his head. But his body refused to listen.
Sagiri lowered the dagger, hands shaking, aware of the distance between what he had been taught and what he could actually do.
Now alone, he could hear his own movement and sound, and he was clearly unstable. His breathing was unstable, and the dagger was not matching his rhythm. He riffled through the archive to see what he had missed, but he had captured every step and memorized it. It was just that his body was far from reenacting what he saw. He stopped suddenly to catch his breath. His body was sore, but the Galka Academy did not provide space for him to catch his breath.
Suddenly, the markings on his body slithered under his skin. They had been disturbed, and he fell to one knee, his face moving frantically. Up till then, he had thought he was with Kaka, and after he had thought he was alone. Yet his senses had suddenly captured a presence he had not perceived, and the power inside him had stirred in recognition. He staggered back, his eyes raking the room. He touched his hand to the ground but the presence was gone like it was never there and he was alone.
The archive stirred and the markings crawled as if they wanted to tell him something that he could not yet understand like always. The power inside him stirred for the first time with a feeling other than violence. Whenever it had stirred in the past most of it had to do with his dreams or he was in danger yet now it swelled with something different. Nostalgia. Recognition. Longing. The feeling was so intense he clutched his chest. He felt the longing as if it was his own.
Someone had been watching him. He did not know for how long but the power inside of him had not screamed 'enemy' or wanted to kill him. It had exuded a feeling of familiarity like it did in his dreams. The feeling was so strong it almost brought tears to his eyes, he could have cried if he was capable of it. A painful longing. Whoever it was must have been so highly skilled to hide his presence from him so well. It was not the same as Kiana who didn't have presence or the strange girl who also lacked a presence. This one had a presence he couldn't perceive or a presence he could hide.
Sagiri moved around the whole arena looking for evidence but just like the wind the person had disappeared. The hour if his punishment had come to an end even so and he still hadn't made progress so he headed for the fourth year dormitory. Torena was there as and Sagiri saluted him distractedly before he headed to his room. He was tired yet after he cleaned up he couldn't sleep and when he slept his the sleep was dreamless as usual but his heart ached till it was time to wake up again.
The morning when he woke up his body was sore than the previous day. Guess that is what happens when your body is pushed into strenuous physical exercises when you had never pushed it that far.
"CALMING THE MIND!" Torena commanded getting into a meditative position as usual in the middle of the circular dormitory structure. The feeling of nostalgia had not receded but even as he headed to the first year Pentagon to be tortured by captain Fuwuka. This time he instructed him to put his hands straight in front of him and hold the spear in his arms in front of him. This was way harder than the last two days and Sagiri was already out of gas by the first lap. He pushed himself even as his chest burned. He did not want to be thrown in the endless pool again. It was not a pleasant experience, and with his already tired hands, he did not know if he could make it or if Fuwuka could just let him die. Somehow, the foreign, familiar feeling in his chest urged him to keep going. He wanted to soak in it again, and he did not know why. Some part of him, however, wanted to run from him.
He felt his legs shaking violently as he slowed down to a jog, then a walk, then he was dragging his feet. His hands shook, not able to carry the spear's weight while suspended for long. Suddenly, a strange feeling hit him in his gut, and he fell forward spitting a mouthful of blood. His body could not physically handle the torture he had endured. He tried to get up and continue, but he could not even stand. Not even his will could have saved him.
"Cadet, five-minute rest!" Captain Fuwuka announced, maybe realizing that Sagiri was going to die if he continued. That was all he needed to hear before he fell forward after spitting another mouthful of blood.