It was already past midnight, and the dorm was dead silent. He had slept for more than four hours and had completely forgotten to obey a direct command. No one had come to wake me up anyway, and perhaps had forgotten about me. He thought, but with Salka and Senraki's nature, he knew that was not possible. He was disturbed after the dream he had just had, yet he had never felt so alive. His clothes were still laid out in the bathroom, and he settled for washing them first. He cleaned his room, and yet it was still not time to wake up. He spread his bed neatly in the Galka War School's required way. He did not want to go back to sleep, and so he stepped out of his dorm room. He knew he was not supposed to be out during sleeping hours, but he did not want to be in his dorm room anymore.
He was feeling more on edge, bolder, and more himself after meeting himself. He could not explain to anyone that, till today, he had been living like a shell of himself, as if the real him was a prisoner inside of him. He had tasted a piece of himself in his dream. It wasn't sweet, but he wanted to be wholly himself without whatever barrier had been put inside of him.
The corridors were empty as he walked out of the dormitory wing. He should have been scared of being attacked again, but for some reason, he wasn't. His feet echoed softly against the hard floors as he walked aimlessly, circling the pentagon and going down a level. It was quiet with only the glow from the artificial lamps lighting the whole place. His feet did not waver until he entered the combat arena. It was empty and silent, with all the hand wrappings and all the dummy dummies standing in place.
Something inside of him was heavy, as if he were a prisoner yet, and he had just tasted freedom for the first time. he also had the urge to get stronger now more than ever. he could feel something inside him shift physically as his sixteenth birthday approached, and it both scared him and lit a fire under his feet. His body had fully healed, but it had grown even thinner. His combat suit felt loose against his body.
Sagiri's footsteps echoed in the empty arena as he walked deeper until he was standing at the centre. He let the silence around him sink into his bones. He felt like dancing, and now more than ever, the only thing he could think of and memorize was the hand combat dance he had learned with everyone else and practiced with Lotaga in the nights when most students were in the tribe's secret art arenas. He did not know his tribe, and no one else knew his tribe, so attending a secret art class was just impossible.
He calmed his mind completely before he sank into the starting stance. He imitated the starting time by counting the thumbs of his heart.
"Hand combat dance!" he announced loudly. After three and a half thumbs of his heart, he jumped into action. Every time he moved, he could only see the one whom he had met and savored in their oneness. It was a sorrowful dance to watch, but for the first time, he actually felt connected to the dance. He poured his confusion into the dance as he jumped, blocked, punched, fell, kicked, rolled, before standing up again. The dance was neither too long nor too short, and for the first time since it was taught to him, he managed to finish it without making a mistake.
by the time he finished it, he was panting. Another emotion was already building inside him as well, not allowing him to savor his small achievement. The urge to punish the Tamelku twins. He pictured them in his mind standing as obstacles before him. He closed his eyes and internalized the dance and even the obstacle position. Two bodies. Two threats. Constant pressure.
"Hand combat dance!" He announced before he moved. His moves were more precise this time and filled with intent. Practicing with an enemy in mind made it easier to train. Training without a target in mind was like training without a goal, and perhaps he had been training all along without a real goal. a real enemy. it excited some part of him and called for punishment from some part of him. All in all, if they were going to drive his goal, then it was a benefit.
A strike snapped out elbow, palm, knee, flowing without pause, aimed at the torso. He twisted past an imagined grab, shoulder rolling under an unseen arm, heel cutting low where a knee would be. His body dipped, rose, spun. He struck empty air as if it could strike back. The twins attacked together in his head. calling for the next block and counterattack of the hand combat dance.
Sagiri did not retreat. He was in control and free in the hand combat dance. He drove forward, slipping between them, turning one threat into a shield against the other. His hands snapped to throats, wrists, joints, control, break, release. No wasted motion. No hesitation. His breathing stayed tight and rhythmic, syncing with each strike. Sweat ran down his spine. Pain flared in his ribs, but he ignored it. He might have healed completely, but his ribs still remembered the taste of pain. He used the memory of the pain as a trigger as he moved to the next part of the hand combat dance, the peak of the dance.
The dance accelerated. Footwork blurred. His body remembered the dark corridor as he ran to the dining wing, he remembered being hunted and hurt without being able to hunt back. Every pivot was survival, and every strike was refusal. When he finished, he froze in a low stance, fists clenched, chest heaving. The arena was still and quiet before him, filled with only the sound of his panting. The twins had vanished with his last attack. Only Sagiri remained alone in the silence, heart pounding, body burning, mind sharp.
"You have finally started to understand the art of war," a voice broke through the whole arena, followed by a slow clap. Sagiri had not heard or perceived Captain Salka approaching yet again. He wheeled around immediately to look for the owner of the voice, who was standing with hands folded to his chest, his instructor's black coat flowing behind him.
"Captain Salka!" He saluted him.
"It is either you are good at ignoring your pain or the pool was a miracle." Salka pushed from his position on the wall.
"I apologize for the trouble," he said, giving another salute to Salka. After the intensity of his punishment, he was beginning to understand that the captain might have been the most dangerous man inside the walls of Galka War Academy or the second most dangerous. Either way, he had always wanted the captain on his side when mud hit the roof, and disobeying was not the way.
"Yet you are here at odd hours when you are supposed to be sleeping. Do you enjoy being punished? you also kept the grand marshal waiting while you slept in your room," Salka said, shaking his head. Sagiri had not recovered from one punishment, and he had already committed two more offenses. "If I hadn't asked the instructors to just let you be just now, who knows how many punishments you would be serving?" Salka continued, and Sagiri's head popped up.
"You followed me from the dormitory wing?" Sagiri was actually surprised that someone followed him without him noticing.
"I did." Lotaga popped out behind Salka, and Sagiri was even more confused.
"You are lucky my tracker here is obsessed with you. He stayed outside your room after you fell asleep and followed you here," Salka continued, pinching his brows.
"I was scared he would be harmed if I left him helpless," Lotaga defended himself.
"You know there are dormitory wing wardens watching all day and night," Salka said, already done arguing with Lotaga.
"Well, I did not want to take any chances. Besides, you said you would put me on pet-tending duties if I didn't escort him to Zazami's office." Lotaga defended himself, trying to act all innocent. his combat at suit zipper was open to his navel, and his coat was tied to his waist, dragging behind him.
"Was it necessary also to use my name?" Salka asked, turning to face Lotaga.
"Well, I thought this was what you could have wanted." Lotaga jumped back, acting innocent as if he was acting in Captain Salka's interest. The man had only dressed neatly when they picked him from the examination council headquarters.
"You are pet-tending duties," Salka said, and the two continued bickering as Sagiri watched, wondering if they were six or twenty-six.
"Please, captain, I will be a good senior captain," Lotaga begged, clinging to Salka's legs without any dignity. That is what he had said when they were in the training chamber. Sometimes Lotaga acted like a spoiled child in front of Salka, and sometimes they acted like friends, but both times Lotaga got on Captain Salka's nerves equally.
"Fine, now let go of my leg, you are no longer a child," Captain Salka finally snapped, trying to peel Lotaga from his leg. However, he didn't have two because the moment the pet-tending punishment was lifted, Lotaga jumped back to his feet, quickly sliding his finger between the lines that held his hair on top of his head.
"My body was too tired then from the cold, and I just slept. I wanted to get better at the hand combat dance, not to let the others down at the friendly competitions." His answer was partly true and partly a lie, but his honest answer could have put him in trouble if he said it out loud.
"You should head back to the dormitory wing and try to get some sleep before meditative hour. I don't think even using me as a shield will save you from Torena's punishment," Salka said, dismissing Sagiri. He was right about Torena. After the way he talked to Torena during his outburst, he could be lucky if the man did not break him in half if he got on his bad side again.
"Come to Senraki's office during lunch hour. Don't fall asleep again. His patience may run out again," Salka said over his shoulder, and Sagiri couldn't agree more. He needed to settle matters with Principal Senraki as soon as possible and make sure to satisfy both Senraki and his urge to punish.