The rest of the class and the ones that followed were just more boring team building exercises, like board games and things like that. But soon enough, it came time to leave the room. Of course, the playful banter between members didn't end just because class did.
"Damn, who knew Ty was that bad at keeping a poker face, am I right guys?"
"God Tarik shut up I get it, Blind Man's Bluff just isn't my game."
"Both of you boys should be quiet, and I think I can speak for Ariel as well when I say I'm getting a major headache from all of this yelling. Do you two ever stop talking?"
"Oh don't speak for me now Cata, I quite like hearing two cute boys argue. If only if it were over me…"
"Keep it in your pants Ariel."
The banter continued until they eventually made their way into the commons area. The group didn't really have an idea of what to do at the time so they almost decided to split before Tarik had something come to mind.
"Hey, Ty, wanna spar? I wanna see how good you are with the knives. I'll use them just like you so we can really see who's better. In fact, everyone else can watch me beat you down."
"Well TARIK, I don't think you'll be beating me in a battle with knives, but it'll be fun to see you try. Let's head to the trainee arena."
The facility that they were in had areas for people of specific strengths, so that way expensive resources wouldn't have to be used as much. Trainees have very cheap sparring rooms, as they don't even have abilities to damage things like those that are dubbed could.
The trainee arena was less a room and more an overgrown gymnasium wrapped in ugly reinforced glass, the kind that practically hummed with whatever cheap wards they'd slapped onto it. A simple ring was chalked into the floor near the center, with scuff marks and the occasional dark stain decorating the ground around it, remnants of trainees that came before.
The walk to the arena took them past the board listing the seven ranks, the one Ty still found himself staring at more often than he probably should. Someday, assuming he survived long enough to actually go through Adoubement, his name would end up somewhere on a board like that. For now, he was still nobody. Still just Tyson Wilson, Unranked, no profession, no core, nothing but a stolen pair of ivory daggers locked away in a drawer and whatever skill he'd managed to scrape together on the streets.
"You're doing the staring-off-into-the-distance thing again," Cata said, falling into step beside him. "It's a little concerning, honestly. Makes you look constipated."
"I do not look constipated."
"You absolutely do. Very constipated. Very thoughtful, but also very constipated."
Ty shoved her shoulder lightly, and she shoved back twice as hard, nearly sending him into the wall, laughing the entire time. It was easy like this, he thought. Easier than it had any right to be, considering he'd known any of these people for all of a few weeks.
Word must have traveled fast, because by the time Ty and Tarik made it inside, Cata, Ariel, and Halvren were already crowded near the ring, along with a handful of students Ty only vaguely recognized from other classes.
"You didn't actually have to bring an audience, you know," Ty said, rolling his neck as he stepped over the chalk line.
"What, and let everyone miss the day I finally shut you up? Not a chance," Tarik shot back, already pulling a pair of plain steel knives from a rack bolted to the wall.
Ty grabbed his own pair, a cheap trainee set instead of his ivory daggers, since there was no way he was risking the one thing he'd actually stolen with his own two hands on something as dumb as pride. He gave them an idle twirl, testing the balance. Lighter than he was used to, but it would do.
Cata leaned against the glass with her arms crossed, looking entirely too amused for someone who claimed she didn't care either way. "Don't actually hurt each other. I don't want to be the one explaining to Coach Turbo why his two favorite idiots are missing fingers."
"Noted," Ty said, not looking away from Tarik.
"No promises," Tarik said at the same time, grinning.
Halvren, ever the voice of reason, raised a hand like he was about to officiate something official. "First one to land three clean hits, or first one to yield. No throats, no eyes. Deal?"
Both boys nodded, and with that, Halvren dropped his hand, and the match began.
Tarik moved first, lunging in fast with a blade aimed low, trying to catch Ty's leg to end things before they really started. Ty had half expected it. Tarik had always rushed in headfirst back when they were kids too, consequences be damned. He pivoted off his back foot and let the knife whistle past him, close enough to tug at his pant leg.
"Still as reckless as ever, huh?" Ty said, mostly to get under his skin.
"Still as annoying as ever, you mean," Tarik said, already recovering and swinging again, this time aiming for Ty's wrist.
Tarik didn't give up after the first failed lunge, circling instead, knives held low and loose the way their old neighborhood kids used to hold sticks when they played at being soldiers. "You've gotten faster," he admitted, grudging as it clearly was for him to say it.
"You've gotten slower," Ty shot back, earning a bark of a laugh even as Tarik lunged again, feinting high before dropping low at the last second, a much better trick than his first attempt.
Ty barely caught it in time, twisting his hip out of the way instead of his usual sidestep, feeling the breeze of the blade pass close enough to tug at his shirt. Okay, Maybe Tarik wasn't quite as predictable as he'd assumed.
Ty let the exchange turn into something closer to a dance than an actual fight, weaving between strikes rather than meeting them head on. He wasn't nearly strong enough yet to trade blows evenly, not against someone who'd apparently been training with knives seriously, so he leaned on the one thing that had kept him fed and out of a cell for years: misdirection.
He feinted left with his off hand, drawing Tarik's eyes just long enough, and flicked a loose chip of gravel up off the floor with his boot. It wasn't much, barely a flash of motion at the edge of Tarik's vision, but it was enough. Tarik's gaze flicked toward it for half a second, and that half a second was all Ty needed.
He stepped inside Tarik's guard, hooked his blade against the crossguard of Tarik's knife, and twisted. The knife clattered to the chalk floor before Tarik even really registered it was gone from his hand.
"What the- when did you even-" Tarik stared down at his own empty hand like it had personally betrayed him.
Ariel clapped from the sideline, practically bouncing on her toes. "Do it again! Do it again, that was way too cool to only see once!"
"This isn't a show, Ariel," Cata said, though she was leaning forward just as eagerly as everyone else to watch.
"A magician never tells," Ty said, pointing the flat of his blade at Tarik's throat, just shy of touching.
From the sideline, Ariel let out a delighted whistle. "Okay, that was actually kind of hot, not gonna lie."
"Everyone saw that, right? Tell me everyone saw that," Ty said, grinning as he stepped back and let Tarik snatch his knife back up off the ground, grumbling the whole time.
"Yeah, yeah, lucky trick. Won't work twice," Tarik muttered, though the way his ears had gone red said he knew exactly how badly he'd just gotten played.
"I mean, considering that's two hits of three already, I don't think I need a second one," Ty said, gesturing at the knife now resting harmlessly a few feet away from where Tarik's hand had been a moment ago, and then to the one still pressed near his collarbone.
Tarik didn't get the chance to argue it, because Halvren was already stepping between them, hand raised again. "I'm calling it. Two clean disarms and a point blank counts as three in my book. Ty wins."
"Boo, corrupt judging," Tarik said, though there wasn't much heat behind it. He flopped back against the wall dramatically, knives clattering to the floor beside him. "Fine, fine. You win this one, Tyson. Doesn't mean anything though. I wasn't even using my best style."
"Sure you weren't," Ty said, walking over and offering a hand to pull him back up, which Tarik accepted with only a token amount of grumbling.
Cata pushed off from the glass, a smug little smile tugging at her mouth. "I'm just glad nobody actually lost a finger. Small victories."
"See, this is why I like having you around, Cata. Always so supportive," Tarik said, deadpan.
"I'm supportive of not doing paperwork, yes."