The knife twirled in my hands.. What I practiced had no combat application. I merely performed to look cool. I was inside my room. There were no prying eyes, especially from people like Thousand Cuts.

My knife flipped up into the air. I avoided touching the sharp edges. There was a couple times were I cut myself on accident. More accidents and I would look like that guy. I prefer to keep away from awkward conversations, especially if scars appear on my wrists.

Knife Tricks was what I call what I was doing. I took inspiration from video games and movies back on earth. There was a lack of practical knowledge, I was aware.

But that never stopped me.

I remembered what Thousand Cuts said about Savoir Faire: the ability to make the right action. If physical strength was my weakness, there was strength in other ways.

I couldn't believe I was listening to her out of all people. If she saw what I’m doing, Thousand Cuts would tease me to no end, ugh!

That’s enough of playing with the knife. I set the blade down. My claws picked up the same deck of cards again. I gave up pulling out the cards from the cover.

I was met with nothing every time I checked. Thousand Cuts saw through the illusion with ease. Months I trained. months of hard work, and there was no progress. Months of nothing.

I ceased from thinking to prevent myself from breaking down. I must meet with Donovan this morning, and I had to focus.

I took my knife, and made sure it’s in my grasp this time. I couldn’t afford another slip up, like last time.

— — —

I stood on a wooden peg from above. My balance teetered on the edge. I was doing one of Donovan’s odd training exercises. A blindfold covered my eyes.

“Defensive: reverse grip,” he yelled from my blindfold.

I repositioned myself. The knife went to the back of my elbow. My body trembled from the lack of support. I adjusted to a more desirable stance. This exercise was more about precision than execution. The allotted time I was allowed made balancing difficult.

“Traditional: saber technique,” he yelled again.

I switched my knife. The knife curved upwards, a sloppy execution. When I was about to fix my stance…

An object hit my head.

“Nya!~” I yelled

I fell from the peg.

A pair of arms caught me before I landed. I took off my blindfold to see Donovan cradling me. Him carrying me was unsurprising. I was short.

wait that’s not the point right now. He heard me meow!

I promptly stood up. My ears and tail flickered. My hands dusted off my clothes while I cleared my throat. I had to save my dignity.

“That’s not fair!” I pointed my finger at him. “You didn't say anything about stuff being thrown at me!”

“Well guess what?” Donovan said. “Life isn’t exactly fair. You lost your concentration. I threw a rubber band to test my hypothesis, and I was proven right. You have to run laps around the training hall as punishment.”

“You didn't have to catch me. I could have caught myself,” I muttered.

A fat guard approached us from a distance. The guard was Grubbs. Sweat glistened on his skin. I felt relief when he wore bulky armor; away from the smell. Terrible for him, good for me. I had never seen a man run so fast.

“*Huff* *Huff* a letter for you sir,” he held an envelope with two hands.

Donovan took the letter, “Thank you, Grubbs. As the letter doesn't look to be urgent, I’ll make sure to read it on my own time,” my mentor stowed the envelope away in his duster. “I have matters regarding my pupil, as you can see.”

“I wouldn’t dare to interrupt you both,” the guard said between breaths. “I also have to be going. I have my duties as a guard. Wasting more of your time would be dishonorable, sir,” he saluted.

“Hold on,” my mentor stopped Grubbs in his tracks.

“Y-yes, sir?”

“You know our newest unranked IMPERIAL for a while, am I correct? Feel free to speak your mind.” The silver-eyed man's smile widened.

“Yes, I’m aware. He’s standing right next to you, sir. Mekiko is what he’s called. I know him on a name to name basis.”

“I have an idea. Mekiko’s training went off without a hitch, yet he’s lacking combat experience. You are a good acquaintance. How about a one-on-one spar with Mekiko?”

What did he just propose? I asked myself. Donovan was right when he said I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t ready with Lyle, that scumbag. I knew the man in question was Grubbs; the guard who sweated like a pig when he ran, but…

“Sorry, but I have to object,” Grubbs said what I hoped for. He was probably looking out for me. “Like, what if either of us gets hurt?”

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“Any injury gets you two weeks of paid leave when the damage is caused by IMPERIAL. Although Mekiko isn’t an operative, I will take full responsibility as his mentor. There’s no problem there, I assure you.”

Was Donovan that confident in my strength? This is going to end terribly if nobody objects. Say something Grubbs, Please say something!

“Uh… I’m only good with a gun. I can’t substitute a weapon like Mekiko can,” the guard said. “What if I accidentally hurt him?”

I Was glad to hear Grubbs say that.

Yet Donovan never relented, “That would pose a problem,” he rubbed his chin. “There is another idea. I say we leave the weapons for now, and go with an unarmed match.?”

“Well, I am somewhat proficient in martial arts,” Grubbs admitted.

“And how about you, Mekiko?” He pointed to me.

I paused to mull Donovan’s question. He asked me about my unarmed combat ability. There was a way to dissuade him.

I deliberated on my words, “I have no skill in unarmed, fist, or any martial arts. While I have claws, I can blunt them using my knuckles. However, not using claws would severely cripple me, like losing a limb.”

Donovan nodded, “An excellent answer, Mekiko. Spars are more interesting when evenly matched. We will begin soon, unless anyone has objections?”

““No,”” me and Grubbs said in unison.

I wanted to scream yes. I almost did, yet had second thoughts. To object would make me appear weak. My ears perked up as I swallowed my saliva.

“I’ll get the tournament ready. Mekiko, run laps around the training hall in the meantime.

“What, why me?” I asked.

“Don’t think that I forgot so easily,” he looked at me. “You had a duty to fulfill when you fell during the training exercise. If you can protest, you can run.”

I grumbled. Damn Mentor, had to cheat to get me doing exercise. I ran around the hall.

— — —

–Third Person POV~

Guards gathered around the tournament grounds to watch the spectacle. What a puzzling sight this spar was.

Mekiko O’ Zaar and Civilian Guardsman Grubbs were going head-to-head in unarmed combat. Little was known about the newest IMPERIAL recruit, other than he was unranked. Mekiko was undergoing intense training.

Oh, and the fact he had cat ears; that too.

On the other hand, there’s Grubbs. A guard who got a letter of recommendation from The Ace of all people. Grubbs was moving into the Elite regiment after his time in IMPERIAL. He had a good grasp on anima and honor. Although, he had a weight problem.

The catboy observed the crowd. He positioned his ears to hear the different noises. His action gave the guards one thought, cute. Granted, They would never share their impression of him. Each guard went through beastkin sensitivity training since the restructuring. They were wary of Mekiko. Anything from staring at his ears for too long was a great offense to beastkin.

Bets were passed among the guards. The general consensus was that the spar favored Grubbs with Mekiko being the dark horse. The smarter guards noticed the disadvantages the nyancan had rather quickly.

Two other IMPERIAL operatives were here, yet they didn't quell the gambling. That was their way of telling them, ‘go ahead, I’ll look the other way’.

The Ace, Donovan sat there with an unreadable expression. He picked up his pen, and wrote in his book..

Donovan sensed around him. The place was full of guards. They seemed eager for the match.

They’re treating the spar like a sport, Donovan thought.

No other IMPERIAL operative showed up, other than Dolores that was.

Donovan regretted making Mekiko run all those laps, not because he was being hard on the beastkin. No, Donovan regretted not holding the nyancan’s punishment until after the spar. He was correcting his mistakes for the future.

Dolores stood by to the opposite side of Mekiko. She gave Grubbs a bottle of water. The guard drank from the container.

“This goes without saying,” Dolores said, “but I am telling you since it’s important. Any touching of ears or tail, no matter how brief, will earn you an immediate disqualification. Repeat what I said,” she demanded.

“Touching the ears or tail, no matter how brief, will earn me a disqualification, maam,” Grubbs replied.

“Good, remember that Mekiko strength lies in speed and precision. Don’t let the catboy go on the offensive, or he’ll overwhelm you.”

“Dolores, may I ask what you’re doing?” Donovan interrupted them.

“Playing the coach,” she smiled. “You got to root for the underdog somehow.”

“That’s not the only game you are playing at. I’m starting to suspect that you were behind the crowd out here today.”

Dolores delved into her duster, and pulled out a cigarette. She ignited the smoke with anima.

She took a puff, “Who knows?” She dismissed the argument. “IMPERIAL stands for something. I overheard the guards. They were in favor of Grubbs. “There needs to be a push,” , “to remind them who we are. You know, send a message. to the mercenaries, gangs, ‘the Elite Guards’,” she emphasized.

“Manipulative as always I see,” Donovan said.

“And you need to see the broader perspective,” she took another drag from her cigarette. “The catboy must prove himself more than others. You know this, why is he here otherwise? You said he isn’t ready, yet the catboy is having another spar. If you were like before, you would have completely objected to the spectators.”

“I made a judgment on Mekiko’s capabilities, and I determined that he’s prepared. nothing more, nothing less,” he observed Dolores.

“You changed Donovan.”

“No… I changed since I lost my name.”

“No IMPERIAL comes out the same person,” she somberly said.

While Dolores and Donovan were busy talking. The energy in the room was felt.

*Fwoom* *Whiff* *Fwish*

Grubbs practiced punches in succession. The guard recalled what he learned during boot camp. He switched his jabs for kicks. His leg blurred as he attacked the air. The bulkiness of his body made his attacks oppressive.

Mekiko stretched on the other side. His feline-like body stretched easily. His physique bended in ways that made Grubbs look stiff in comparison. Mekiko did what Donovan taught him, warmups that made humans sore if they tried

Donovan walked up to the stage. The spectators simmered down.

“Ready… Begin,” his voice cut through the silence. The nyancan’s ears twitched.

Mekiko and Grubbs took their respective stances. The battle was about to start.