The ceremony arenas above the pentagons were wide. They stood built into the smooth roofs of the pentagons. The four ceremonial arenas. They are only used during competitions across high schools, or the sash handing over ceremonies. The whole school gathered on the ceremonial arena above the first-year pentagon. Students dressed neatly, and their weapon pockets were filled with knives and daggers. The second year cadets carried spears, the third year cadets carried bows and arrows, and the fourth year cadets carried words. The only common weapon among the three classes was the two dozen knives in the side and breast pockets.
Galka Academy took the sash handing over ceremony seriously, and all the instructors gathered. From the junior instructors, senior instructors, section commanders, and captains. Even Principal Zazami Senraki looked pretty decorated, with all the military honors sitting on his white combat uniform and coat. The instructors sat in positions according to their rank, and the students sat according to their years of service. Captain Salka and Fuwuka stood behind Senraki, looking solemn as if reminiscing about their sash-handling over the ceremonies. This was the most important sash handing over because it symbolized the graduation from a civilian to a cadet.
The sash on the waist of every year stood out neatly giving a sense of tension in the air as if something important was going to take place, which was the truth. On this day, the first years could get acknowledged not just as mere rocks in the dirt but polished gems who were ready to become future warriors and soldiers of Tagayia.
Displine Division Commander Torena Xemira was the first to take the stage.
"Cadets! honour position!" he announced, and all the students apart from the first years took their honorable positions. Knees hit the concrete in unison, shaking the entire arena.
"Warriors Creed!" He announced, and all the cadets recited the creed just as powerfully as the first time he had heard it. Since he was the only aged student, he had experienced a sash handing over ceremony, and he was the only one experiencing it for the first time. Not only that, but he was the only one with an ash-gray sash in the midst of the crimson reds, making Torena's eyes twitch. The man loved perfection, and anything disorderly could result in the most severe of punishments.
"Cadets! Respectable positions!" He announced, and all the cadets across the years rose to their feet, legs apart and one hand thumbing their hearts. He stepped back from the platform, letting the ceremonial division commander take the stage. Galka Academy, being a military school, did not include any unnecessary pleasantries. Even ceremonies take the shortest time possible.
The ceremonial division commander, Wokira Ogiri Tiwesani, took the stage. His hair was the same as Daziko's in the third year, but with even more decoration that you couldn't see his hair. It was only fitting for one of the Tiwesani Tribe to hold the position of ceremonial commander. They were flashy, and they loved beautiful and flashy things. Their tribe has so many ceremonies to celebrate everything and anything. They believe ceremonies bring people together and colour brightens hearts. They weren't completely wrong because the moment Wokira took the stage, the tense environment seemed to relax.
"I am Wokira of the Tiwesani tribe, " he announced, and someone groaned. It had to be Captain Salka. He hated anything too flashy, and sitting beside Senraki, who was a man-child, and Wokira, who was too flashy and colorful, was too much for him. Even Torena looked like he wanted to stay as far away as possible."We shall first welcome the second-year cadets to perform the spear warrior dance. Then the third year warrior bow and arrow dance, and then we will wrap it up with the fourth year warrior sword dance!" He announced with the brightest smile Sagiri had ever seen. It was as if the definition for smiling had been derived from the guy. It was so wide it was creepy.
"Please make sure to put in your best and entertain me. Let me see how much you enjoy ceremonies. Remember to smile. This is a happy ceremony, and we will remember it for the rest of our lives."
The second year cadets entered first to step into the open space at the centre of the arena. They took positions in lines without any instructions. They held long brown spears with forest-green bows to match their sash, upright, feet planted wide. They stood for a moment as if waiting for a command, then they moved in unison without anyone giving a command. Their movements were grounded and heavy. Yet beautiful as if it were a dance, yet so vicious it showed their love for the weapon. Spears struck the floor in rhythm, then swept outward in controlled arcs. Thrusts were direct, meant to break lines and hold ground. Every step emphasized reach, formation, and discipline with no wasted motion. The dance showed how the spear had a life of its own, and how when its will and that of the weapon wilder joined together, they moved like one. Sagiri could now understand why Fuwuka made him carry it while he ran. It was not a punishment. The man loved the spear, and Sagiri could only perceive pride reeking off of him as he watched the ongoing dance.
Even when the dance ended, they stood on the platform for a moment before they bowed in respect and stepped out of the arena in one organized line. Sagiri could feel Torena bursting with pride at their uniformity, even though he kept that grave face.
The third-year cadets were next to step on the platform. Their bows and arrows are decorated with midnight blue bows to match their sash. Unlike the second-year cadets, they moved so silently that if you were not looking, you would miss them. There was no stamping, no noise. Their steps were light and spaced. They stood in neat disk-like rows. Just like the second-year cadets, they stood for a moment as if waiting for a silent command before they moved in unison as if connected by invisible strings. There was indeed a big difference in their moves that made the second-year cadets look like amateurs. Standing in shooting positions, they mimed drawing bows, turning at sharp angles, shifting levels as if moving through terrain. Arrows were loosed in precise sequences, high, low, distant, close. The dance focused on timing, positioning, and awareness. It showed control of distance and the killing of enemies before they could close in. More so, it showed the love of the weapon. The weapon was not only made for killing, but handling it was an art.
The fourth-year cadets came last. Their swords hung in their sashes with crimson red bows hanging at the hilt. Sagiri had not even been introduced to the basics of using a sword, and he could only stand in the fourth year's section alone with his out-of-place ash gray sash, making him stand out like a sash. Torena's eye twitched again, and he looked like he wanted to erase his existence from his view. He was ruining his perfect view of discipline and order. They carried sheathed swords. Just like the other years, they took their positions in the middle of the arena in neat rows and stood for a moment as if waiting for an invisible command. When they finally moved, Sagiri could only perceive awe from everyone watching. Unlike the third-year cadets, the fourth-year cadets didn't move as if held together by an invisible string. They moved as if they were made of one body. They moved like one entity. They unsheathed their swords in a swift move, their sharp blades reflecting the glares of the sun. Their movements were fluid and fast, changing direction without warning. Cuts flowed into thrusts, guards into counters. They did not follow a fixed rhythm. Each motion responded to an imagined opponent. The dance was individual, not formed. It showed adaptability, lethal precision, and finishing intent. They jumped and landed at the same time, shaking the very foundation of the first-year Pentagon. The dance was lethal and yet beautiful. When they stopped, blades were already lowered, as if the fight was long over.
This time, the most admiration poured from Principal Senraki. It was as if he were reminiscing. His feelings of love for the weapon surpassed everyone's in the arena. He, as the principal, was the only one with a designated seat, yet he stood and watched the dance with dancing hearts in his eyes as if he wished he could join them.
"Beautiful, just beautiful!" Wokira announced, disrupting everyone's solemn moment. He ignored everyone's groans this time and continued in his loud voice that was tearing the now silent arena to shreds. "Now, then, I will invite the bride of this groom to the stage to receive the youngest cadet's sash. It is the moment we have all been waiting for. A sinking door opened right in the middle of the arena, giving birth to the first-year. Cadets to be. They appeared in tight yet clumsy lines compared to what Sagiri had just witnessed.
They formed a tight block, ash-gray sashes visible against their uniforms. Instructors took positions along the inner edges. Weapons were ceremonially sheathed, polished, unused. Their ceremonial coats were longer than the usual combat coats. They swept behind them, making them look even more powerful. Senraki stood at the centre of the stage, facing them with Captain Salka and Captain Fuwuka standing beside him
.
A command rang out. It was Captain Salka. "Recruits kneel!"
The first year recruits knelt as one, right fist pressed to the chest.
Another command followed. It was Captain Fuwuka. "Recruits Creed!"
They recited the Recruit Creed first. Short. Harsh. Words about endurance, obedience, and survival. Their voices echoed upward into the open space of the wing. Without a pause, they followed it with the First-Year Mottos. Statements drilled into them since arrival. Then came the Galka War School Creed. Then the warrior's creed. The most important creed.
"We are the sons of Galka. Forged in hardship, discipline, and purpose. Our minds are sharp, our bodies unyielding, our loyalty bound to our unit and our code. We rise with honor. We train without fear. We endure without complaint.
"Strength is our duty. Unity is our shield. Victory is our destiny. Pride is our armor
"We stand as one. We kneel as one. We fight as one.
"Galka does not raise boys. Galka raises weapons."
Every student in the wing joined in this one. Upper years spoke it without raising their voices, a low, unified sound that filled the structure. It was older than any of them. When the last line ended, silence returned immediately. Senior instructors stepped forward.
"Sash exchange!" It was Instructor Torena.
The ash-gray sashes were untied and removed. Each was taken without ceremony and placed into a waiting basin at the center. No one watched the cloth once it left their bodies. Deep brown sashes were issued next. Each student stepped forward when their name was called, accepted the sash, tied it themselves, and stepped back into formation. When the final sash was tied, instructor Torena spoke again. The students' uniform was under the discipline code after all.
"You are now first-year cadets of the Galka War School Academy," they took the respect position, fists to their hearts in honour of the honour that had been bestowed on them. Finally, it was Principal Senraki's turn to give a speech, and he had been waiting for this moment a long time.
"As the principal of the Galka War Academy, I officially welcome you to the ranks of cadets. I know most of you dream to be like me in the future, and this is only the first step." Even Sagiri could hear Captain Salka's eyes rolling to the back of his head. He just could not wait to make it about himself and take their achievement as his own. "Remember from now on whatever you do reflects on me, and remember to make me proud in whatever you do. I am most proud of you because I have watched you grow, and I have made sure to train you and nurture you from little chicks to the eagles you are now. Of course, I haven't trained you personally, but all the instructors carry my will, and they pass it to you. You are all my students, and I wish you only the best from here on out until you become just like me." Salka was holding himself back at that point, not to beat him to a pulp.