THE NEXT MORNING, when I trudge into the training room, yawning, a large target stands at one end of the room, and next to the door is a table with knives strewn across it. Target practice again. At least it won’t hurt.
Suho stands in the middle of the room, his posture so rigid it looks like someone replaced his spine with a metal rod. The sight of him makes me feel like all the air in the room is heavier, bearing down on me. At least when he was slouched against a wall, I could pretend he wasn’t here.
Today I can’t pretend.
“Tomorrow will be the last day of stage one,” Suho says. “You will resume fighting then. Today, you’ll be learning how to aim. Everyone pick up three knives.” His voice is deeper than usual.
“And pay attention while JK demonstrates the correct technique for throwing them.” At first no one moves. “Now!” We scramble for daggers.
They aren’t as heavy as guns, but they still feel strange in my hands, like I am not allowed to hold them.
“He’s in a bad mood today,” mumbles Hanni.
“Is he ever in a good mood?” I murmur back.
But I know what she means. Judging by the poisonous look Suho gives JK when he isn’t paying attention, last night’s loss must have bothered Suho more than he let on.
Winning capture the flag is a matter of pride, and pride is important to the Dauntless. More important than reason or sense.
I watch JK’s arm as he throws a knife. The next time he throws, I watch his stance. He hits the target each time, exhaling as he releases the knife.
Suho orders, “Line up!” Haste, I think, will not help.
My mother told me that when I was learning how to knit. I have to think of this as a mental exercise, not a physical exercise. So I spend the first few minutes practicing without a knife, finding the right stance, learning the right arm motion.
Suho paces too quickly behind us. “I think the Stiff’s taken too many hits to the head!” remarks Yeonjun, a few people down.
“Hey, Stiff! Remember what a knife is?”
Ignoring him, I practice the throw again with a knife in hand but don’t release it. I shut out Suho’s pacing, and Yeonjun's jeering, and the nagging feeling that JK is staring at me, and throw the knife.
It spins end over end, slamming into the board. The blade doesn’t stick, but I’m the first person to hit the target.
I smirk as Yeonjun misses again. I can’t help myself. “Hey, Yeonjun,” I say. “Remember what a target is?”
Next to me, Hanni snorts, and her next knife hits the target. A half hour later, Taehyung is the only initiate who hasn’t hit the target yet. His knives clatter to the floor, or bounce off the wall.
While the rest of us approach the board to collect our weapons, he hunts the floor for his. The next time he tries and misses, Suho marches toward him and demands,
“How slow are you, Candor? Do you need glasses? Should I move the target closer to you?”
Taehyung’s face turns red. He throws another knife, and this one sails a few feet to the right of the target. It spins and hits the wall.
“What was that, initiate?” says Suho quietly, leaning closer to Taehyung.
I bite my lip. This isn’t good.
“It—it slipped,” says Taehyung.
“Well, I think you should go get it,” Suho says.
He scans the other initiates’ faces everyone has stopped throwing again—and says, “Did I tell you to stop?”
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Divergent | Jungkook AU
Hayran Kurgu"We have war inside of us. Sometimes it keeps us alive. Sometimes it threatens to destroy us"
