The Truth Of Heroes

Pitiful

     As instructed, I waited at my usual training spot.

    It was a small clearing in the woods near my house, making it easy to travel to and from, as well as provide enough energy to train with.

    Now, instead of training, I sat in the middle of the clearing, waiting anxiously for Stain to appear. 

    "Good." A gravelly voice rang out, scaring me enough to have my legs propelling me up and into a fighting stance.

    "Your reflexes are slow, you lack discipline, your stance is terrible. But I can work with that."

    Stain finally appeared from the treeline, he was wearing his villain suit, but this time it was looking as good as new. 

    "Stain." I said because I didn't know what else to do.

     Suddenly Stain was behind me, something hit the back of my knee and pushed my back, the ground lurched up and I slammed my nose into the grass. Stain barked a laugh and I pushed myself up, glaring at him.

  "What was that for?" I asked, rubbing my nose. 

    "An example. You're weak, but I'm going to make you strong. Get into your stance again."

    I did as told, watching him suspiciously.

   Stain circled me, when he found an issue he would strike me there, then tell me to get up and fall back into position, fix it for me, and then hit me again, the second time I wouldn't fall flat on my face.

    When Stain had pointed out and helped me fix all of the flaws in my stance, he had me relax and fall into it again and again, until I could easily fall into it without thought.

   Once Stain was satisfied, he stood across from me, stripped himself of his shirt and weapons, and fell into a fighting stance effortlessly.

   Blinking at him I hesitantly fell into my own stance. 

    "We're going to spar, this way I know what I'm dealing with."

    I gulped, biting my lip. Stain grinned maliciously.

   "But don't worry, I'll be strictly defensive. For today."

   Then he motioned me to start.

    Taking a deep breath, I readied myself for the offensive before dashing forward and aiming for a punch.

   Stain easily blocked and I tried to kick him, but he danced out of the way. It went on like that, Stain easily evading each of my attacks.

   Sometimes, Stain would jab me in the side, or nudge my foot, helping me fix my wrongs. Once he seemed satisfied enough he let me stop, and I fell to the ground panting. 

    "You're disgustingly terrible." He said, not even sweating.

    I scowled at him but was far too tired to work up a response.

    Stain picked up one of his discarded knives and walked to a tree, cutting a target into the bark.

   "This is your target. Now get your ass up and throw."

    Groaning I stood up on shaky legs, the limbs feeling like jelly.

    Stain handed me the knife he was holding and waiting for me to throw it.

   Taking a deep breath I attempted to aim for the center of the target, but it ended up not even hitting the tree.
 
    "That was fucking pitiful."

    I felt my cheeks heat up and growled out to release my annoyance.

    Stain handed me another knife and fixed my stance, this time I managed to hit just outside the target.

    Stain kept me going until I managed to get at least one knife into the center. After that, he handed me another weapon. And another, and another.

   Eventually, I had thrown every weapon in his arsenal. 

    "And you want to get into UA? With skills this pitiful?" He asked as I collapsed to the ground, exhausted. 

    "Well that's what the damn school is for, isn't it?" I snarled, wiping sweat from my brow.

    It was starting to get dark.

   Stain moved about, picking up his weapons and shirt, preparing to leave. 

   "We will meet every Thursday. You will run home, to the woods, and from the woods every day. You will use these," Stain threw a bag at me, it landed next to my leg with a heavy thunk, "Everyday and at all times. You will practice your aim with this," He threw a knife down and it landed beside the bag.

    "And you will practice your stance. Once I have deemed you ready, I will teach you how to wield the weapons. For now focus on your balance and techniques.”

    Stain turned around and headed for the treeline.

   "Remember to run." He gruffed out before disappearing into the greenery.

    I sat there for another five minutes before peering into the bag. Inside were weighted forearms and shin bands.

   Sighing I put the bands on, feeling the loss of normal body functionality acutely.

    Picking up the knife, thankfully sheathed, I stuffed it into my backpack.

    Cursing every decision I've ever made, I started my jog home, having to stop for embarrassingly long and embarrassingly frequent breaks.