This was the first time I entered the hall through the main gate. Even though the instructor didn't say anything about needing to be upfront about it, I decided to go full retard if I had to go retard. It certainly made sense to me.

Even though no one had noticed, I couldn't help but feel skittish. After all, most of the times I had been in this room, I had been in a corner hitting lifeless sand bags or even an steel mannequin. Now I was supposed to fight an instructor as the 'centerpiece' performer and actually not look awful while doing so. It meant I couldn't screw up unless I really fancied making an idiot out of myself.

I started by standing in the central square: an area roughly the size of two classrooms... or about as large as a bowling alley's lanes but even wider. After waiting a few seconds, I started stretching my arms and fingers, noting I would be needing them if I was really going to essentially slog it out with an instructor that was much better than me and twice my age.

As soon as I started letting some of the lightning run through my fingers (thank goodness fingerless gloves, I didn't fancy fighting bare fisted), all faces turned towards me and I immediately regretted not having at least bought myself some time by idling near the back.

The instructor materialized in front of me. As expected, she was that fast.

She looked around herself, taking in everyone as they stopped fighting, the rumbling of the ground and buzzing of mirror-covered walls stopping abruptly.

Were it not for the fact I potentially wouldn't last a minute, I would have almost dreamed of having the power to do what she did: stop fights dead. Instead, all the powers taught to me were created to start or finish them. I really hated this inconvenience.

"Alright everyone! Listen!" she exclaimed, turning to stare dead ahead at me. "With Regnants' Day only a few weeks away, many of you are probably thinking of entering The Grafting. Indeed, I've seen girls much younger than you all believe they are capable of braving it..."

'Don't remind me...' I thought. The fact I had a younger sister who was going to still made me wince whenever someone mentioned the ugly fact.

"...but you must know, that a Grafting match is not a street fight... It's way fucking worse!" she explained, walking around the edges of the square. "A fight in The Grafting involves not only brute force, but skill, knowledge of your own Queenly capabilities and gifts..." Yeah, that was such a good way to put it. 'Queenly capabilities' didn't even begin to describe the freakish powers we were given as a result of turning into virtual mutants.

Like the ability to make lightning with my fingers, for one. Then there was the universal poisonous nails thing...

"...and most importantly..." she finally turned back to glare at me and I immediately threw everything I had into the defense, knowing what would happen in the next few nanoseconds. "...raw talent..."

As soon as she said that, she bolted at me so fast I could barely react. I sidestepped so suddenly I felt whiplash around my neck before I grabbed her arm and threw her into one of the far off walls, shattering the mirrors as she hit it.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

Still aware that this wasn't even a slap to the face for her, I sprung after, wishing upon landing that the glass was steel so I could use it against her. However, she bolted again towards me, flying in near vertical position beneath the spot on the wall where I was. The strike that hit me sent me barreling down into the ground, but I was able to flip to land on my feet and spring forth to the opposite wall.

By now we were well beyond the square's bounds—if it wasn't already apparent—but the onlookers didn't seem to give a fuck as we shattered mirrors whenever we hit the walls and flew into each other.

At last, I went further and grabbed the ceiling, dangling from it as she fell down to the center of the room beneath. The arena as a whole was a lot bigger than just the square—the size of an stadium of old—and I could see her signal down to me.

"Come on Sydney, you can't hang on to the roof forever!"

I didn't intend to. Instead, I let the lightning flow out of my fingertips—to the point my own ponytail seemed to raise itself higher—and shot downwards with my fists extended forward, intending to shock her into next week.

She simply stepped aside and I knew exactly what she was going to do next.

As I almost hit the ground, she grabbed me and spun me around, intending to throw me into the ground with all the force I had put into my attack, but not before I grabbed her head with my legs, locking them around her and instead bringing her down into the ground.

I let my nails close to her ear, highlighting them as I got close enough to whisper into them.

"Seems I'm getting this one, Momiji..." I whispered, calling the instructor by her first name, aware that, at the corner of my eye, I could see her daughter Tomomi staring at both of us with what was... a smirk?

"Indeed..." the older woman whispered before trying to move. "I concede now."

I released the weight of my legs from her head and let her slide back. I didn't stand and neither did she, as I had grown to exhausted from that brief use of power, something I wasn't happy about. Then again, I had barely eaten anything and I wasn't getting much sleep recently, so this made kind of sense for me to be so weak. Nonetheless, at least I hadn't gotten my ass handed to me, so I guess I could count myself lucky.

"Alright girls! Consider this brief exhibition an example of what you will find once you enter the pearly doors. Practice's over."

As she said that, our audience started dissipating, with the one exception of the black haired girl staring at us, still smirking, as she bent down to look straight at the eyes of her mother.

"See momma, I told you we are a lot stronger than your former peers were..." Tomomi said, turning to look at me. I couldn't help but blush slightly, both at the embarrassment and her noticeable cleavage. Being as endowed as her mom meant it was something hard to ignore, especially since at least Momiji kept her distance. "You, on the other hand, I quite like you..."

I leaned back slightly, tilting my head in confusion. "I just did what I had to." I admitted, before her mom jumped to my defense.

"What he was told... indeed. Well, towels dear, please?"

Her daughter didn't even seem offended by the command, something that would make even the most loyal daughter of a champion chafe, but she seemed to take it in stride and headed towards an small cabinet at the far end of the hall, the crunch of broken glass in her boots as she returned to us, handing us both towels to dry our perspiration before plopping and settling down between us, turning to me.

"Seems you are Grafting ready, aren't you Sydney? I mean, if momma could do so, surely it's going to be a cakewalk for you right?"

"I'm afraid I won't be entering the Grafting..." I trailed off, remembering the special 'deal' and the demands made for my sake that meant I didn't have to participate ever. "I am well aware of the circumstances surrounding the matches and I've decided to abstain."

Momiji didn't seem happy with my response, rubbing the towel over her shoulder.

"That's highly unfortunate, you would be a fine performer. One of the best in your age group at least."

"Yeah..." I whispered in response, feeling goosebumps inside, but thankfully being perfectly capable of hiding them.

That's exactly why I'm not entering...