Marked by Daemons

training

10:33 am September 12th 2019
Training Grounds, The Association HQ

"I heard that there was a new student--"

"Yeah, apparently Director Oda agreed to let him join late..."

"-- semester is almost over--"

"-- that weird blue-haired girl in the morning..."

"Idiot, how can a girl join the Association? That's nonsense--"

"If that's true, she has to be really strong!"

"Yea--"

The chatter subsides as the door to the training grounds swings open. The students all push to get a closer look at the newcomer, to measure up their strength with his, and to see if the he is actually a she.

Director Oda marches in and with one look at the crowded boys, they all scatter pretending to do warm-ups and stretches. Some even go to the extent of pretending to be practising their techniques.

Sai enters the grounds shyly, and everyone stops what they're doing.

It is a girl. And she looks nothing like they imagined her to be.

A few students start whispering among themselves, the occasional phrases loud enough for Sai to hear.

"She looks so weak--"

"-- how she got admission--"

"-- so small, I wonder if she can even carry a swor--"

"SILENCE," Oda bellows causing a thick curtain of silence to drop once again. "This is your new fellow pupil, Saiha Osama." Sai flinches. "You will treat her like everyone else here." He glares at a group of students who are snickering at her name. "Any complaints and I will personally see to suitable disciplinary actions."

With that, he leaves Sai in a room of smirking strangers who are already plotting how to make her quit.

A few minutes later, a tall boy, with black hair tied back in a small ponytail saunters into the training grounds. Momentarily, everyone seems to forget about her as they surround him like adoring fans. She watches him warily, knowing that if he decides to bully her, the rest will follow. No questions asked.

He senses her gaze and turns swiftly, a lock of hair falling onto his face as his dark eyes meet hers. He looks bored, and somehow she feels that he wouldn't hurt her.

The sharp sound of a whistle cuts through the commotion as a man in his late forties jogs to the students. "Twenty-five laps," he claps his hands loudly. "Hurry up, hurry up." He catches sight of Sai and nods, jerking his head in the direction of the tracks.

If running is what they want her to do, then running is what she would do.

Five laps later she fights for air, as her vision starts to blur. She heads to the sidelines and doubles over, panting heavily. She realises that her father had taught her more methods of fighting than fitness. Her stamina was terrible, with vigour like this even if she was the best swordswoman, she would die easily.

The coach jogs over to her. "You're new, right? Sai--"

"Sai Osama," she wheezed before he could call her Saiha. That name was reserved for her parents only.

"Let's start slow, okay," he looks at her pale face concerned. "I don't want students dy... Nevermind. How about you just jog the rest of the laps? And walk if you are absolutely out of breath?"

Sai nods and starts jogging, taking deep breaths and trying to steady her heart rate. She wishes she could take this uniform off and wear a more breathable outfit; the sweat and heat are starting to get on her nerves.

Before she knows it, twenty-five laps have been completed and the students rush to guzzle down water. Several of them sneak glances at her and snigger. She frowns. If those boys were going to underestimate her, then she would show them exactly who they were dealing with.

She would make her parents proud.

The whistle blows again and this time the students form different groups. The younger ones, they looked about thirteen to fifteen; her age group, are the most populated of the three groups. There are only six students in one of the senior groups and three in the other. Sai guesses that the latter must be the most experienced of the lot.

The coach speaks to the boy with the ponytail, previously in the second group, and points to her. He nods and beelines towards her.

"Coach Amir wanted me to teach you the basics," he says, guiding her to a corner. The members of the youngest group watch her with envy. "So what is your technique? Do you have one?"

"Er... no," she stammers. "But I've been learning how to trace Daemonic energy."

He raises a brow and hums. "Show me what you can do, then."

She closes her eyes flustered. What exactly she was to show him, she didn't know, but she would try everything her mother taught her back home. At the thought of Elise Osama, her heart pangs, a loneliness she has never experienced before gnawing at her insides.

"Saiha, close your eyes and empty your brain," Elise's voice drifts harmoniously. "Block all that you feel and concentrate on my voice."

The smell of freshly baked croissants wafts into her nose, making her stomach grumble. Her father had just returned home.

"Forget the smells Saiha," her mother tuts, disapprovingly.

Focus on mama's voice. She chides herself. Croissants can come later.

A faint blue glow pulsates in the dark corners of Sai's mind. She concentrates on it, the blue glow forming a shape... "I see it!" She says excitedly, losing concentration and opening her eyes.

"Well done," Osama says. "Although you could have perfected it a little more before stopping."

"That's what I keep saying," Elise lets out a sigh.

She sees a pale orange glow, pounding to the beat of her heart. She focuses on it, and it grows brighter taking the form of a disfigured goat hoof. It floats in a zigzag pattern and as she zeroes on it she senses that it must be coming from the boy.

Opening her eyes, she looks at him. He looks back at her. "Well?"

"It's a Daemon's hoof," she says, as bile climbs up her throat. "Why do you have one with you?"

"Can you sense where exactly it is?" He asks spreading his arms. "Don't close your eyes."

She squints at him confused. "How am I suppo--"

A faint orange glow throbs in his uniform shirt, close to his heart. She points at it. "There."

His eyes light up excitedly and he fishes the hoof from his shirt. "You're pretty good at this for your age," he says, throwing the hoof to Sai, who catches it disgustedly. "How much do you know?"

"Just that," she says disheartened. "And a method-fighting. My parents taught me."

He hums and takes the hoof from her again. "And they taught you about how the Association works?"

"Not exactly... I only know about the four classes of Daemons," she thinks back.

"I'll teach you," he walks away. "Meet me at the library after lunch. Oh and bring a notebook."