Day 5
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The metal door slides open before my eyes as I get close to it, hissing quietly all the way until it disappears on the wall's gap; stepping into the training area nervously, instantly, I'm hit with the unexpected temperature difference.
Outside, from the library back to the hospital room, the air hung mercilessly cold, which I think makes sense. If I remember correctly, everyone was dressed in warm, heavy business clothes that can't be easy to use in summer temps, and, for the hospital, a memory comes to me of Astero saying they are generally cold to hinder germs—I swear, that man will do anything to show off how much of a nerd he is.
Still, in the training area, the warmth rapidly makes me want to take my heating coat off, an idea that dies once I remember the clothes I have underneath, or, in this case, the lack of anything besides the hospital gown, which covers basically not enough.
Unmindful of the feeling due to having no other option, I shove it away on the back of my head and start looking at the surroundings in hopes I'll soon forget about it.
To all sides, different people train seriously like they are in a world of their own, just like I saw before from outside, only this time their deeply immersed expressions are clearer to read.
The extension of the room is even more surprising now that I'm inside, mirroring perfectly what I calculate must be almost an entire sports field.
An interesting fact I catch on to as well is that a prepared group wearing white medical shirts and black fleece vests seems to stand ready near the fighters in special; faces serious, eyes sharp, and on their hands, they carry dearly some clean towels and one emergency medical bag per personnel.
Well, if the training agents are all not humans, as Yui said, then things sure must get messy from time to time, if not always; I can't imagine otherwise knowing how strong they can be compared to a simple human like me.
I, still moving my eyes around, spot a figure that makes me stop; the clothes she uses are a lot more casual and gym-like compared to the heavy coat I saw her use all this time, but the black hair and tall complex can't be missed.
Her clothes now reveal the lean muscular figure she usually hides, making the job of looking away from her body, especially the impressive six-pack, a difficult task, leaving me for a good second to be taken over by a sudden growing warmth on my face before I'm able to recompose.
Colette and one of the fighters stand in front of each other in a boxing ring, the tension between them so thick that it could cut me from the inside out if I dared try to breathe it in, and for that, I start counting my breaths.
Her opponent, a tall man who manages impressively to rival her in height and muscles, grins mockingly in response to her deep, bestial growls; it isn't hard to notice something bad is about to happen, and with that in mind, I approach carefully, sure to draw as little attention to myself as I can, which proves to be easier than expected since both fighters draw every curious eye to them.
"By the moon! You ferals truly are all the same, huh? Wild dogs with no finesse. Not two seconds into a fight, and it is all uncivil growls and eager exposed teeth—no more than a slave to your own wolf."
"..."
The silence between them grows as the man's words fail to elicit a response from his opponent, and so does a frown on his brows.
Instead of trying again, he changes tactics and chooses to turn his attention to a buff woman who is quietly observing the exchange from outside the ring. "At the very least, I'm glad you're watching, coach, in case this dog loses control and transforms to kill me."
At his words, the woman lets out an amused laugh, exposing how strangely deep her voice is, surely due to some cigarettes here and there considering the not subtle smell exhaling from her clothes—it is actually impressive I can smell it seeing our distance.
She shakes her head, proudly swaying the single broken horn beside her head to the world like a trophy—its sharp end only serves to make it more intimidating, since I'm sure she could, and probably did, stab someone with the thing.
"Kid, no one forced you into this ring; whatever happens, you're on your own. But you're in luck, big boy; my work here today is to make sure you two have a clean and respectful fight."
The woman turns from them and starts walking along the ring's sides, reaching the middle section between the two; the strong light shining upon all of us reflects on her dark skin, revealing a set of scars on her left arm—diagonal claw slashes, like she fought a bear or something bigger, survived the attack, and now wears the proof.
"That means no transformations in this ring." She states in a commanding voice, enough to partially get Colette out of her previous wild state. "I'm talking especially to you, Bellerose. I don't want any more incidents this month, if that is even possible; if I'm not being clear, that's your cue to prove me wrong. We follow boxing rules, hand to hand, close quarters, which means that if I so much catch a growing claw or an excited tooth, I'll make sure the medics don't get a step closer to help heal it after I break it clean. Don't test me; I did worse to young werewolves like you two for a whole lot less."
"Hey, Feral, why don't you do me a solid? Me and my guys made a sweet deal, and you're in the center of it." Shamelessly, the man's smugness is cast upon Colette, stealing her focus once again because of his infuriating insistence to draw her mad. "You see, they think you are a very obedient dog that wouldn't go against orders even if your life depended on it, while I believe you're nothing less than a ticking time bomb just waiting for the right excuse to slash someone's throat open. Prove me right, and I'll maybe share the honeypot with you; half a grand for you and a half for me, easy like that—"
Interrupting his words, their coach claps her hands together hard enough to create an echo, cursing under her breath, then, making sure the man is done speaking, she brings out of her short pocket a metal whistle.
"Hastings, shut your trap before I do you a favor and help you out. Ready up already, you two."
Even as the words of the coach reach him, he pays them no mind and waits patiently for Colette to say anything, and seeing that once again there is no acknowledgment of them from her, the man steps away to his end of the ring, clicking his tongue irritably in frustration. "I was being kind, but whatever; it isn't like you need the money to do it."
Then, without warning, the whistle is blown; the sound is loud enough to force my body to instinctively shield my ears, driving for a split second the focus I had on them to somewhere else, and, in that split second, the fight starts.
In a display of her inhuman reaction speed, Colette launches herself at the opponent without fear the millisecond the coach's whistle makes sound. Eyes locked on the target, coldly searching for openings.
The man is instantly stunned, torn between bringing his fists up fast enough to block the attack or counter it, giving her enough time to get a brutal punch in.
POW
There is a visceral sound that escapes her opponent's body as his insides shake and get squished because of the attack's force, but before he can let out a single pained groan, Colette moves in again mercilessly, making sure not to waste the opportunity to knock the wind out of him.
In a wise move, the man does the opposite of what's expected and pridefully swallows the pain, using the little space he has to get enough movement forward with his head, connecting his forehead with the fist to stop the incoming attack.
Bones crack, I'm sure, not only by the clear sound of that happening but also by the sight of the hand she used to punch.
Weakly wiggling flesh, stolen of the sturdiness they had a second prior, still elastic enough to reveal shards of bone prying a way out from the broken fingers.
This sight reminds me of the importance of gloves for this kind of fight, but I believe they would hardly help out, seeing their monstrous strength.
Impressively, even with a broken hand, she doesn't let a single groan, as if the pain is all but a small annoyance; instead, she jumps and slides back, retreating to her corner of the ring.
Both fighters are stunned, but that doesn't mean nothing happens; as the man shakes his head to attempt getting back into the fight, blood flowing out of his nose, Colette uses her uninjured hand to pull the broken limb back into place, realigning the bones so easily that I am left to question how many times she has done it before to do it so effortlessly.
Another thing I get curious about is her abnormal decision to realign the bones, seeing no reason to do so as ultimately that won't do her any good, but I'm quickly proven wrong when in mere seconds the wiggling hand regains its sturdiness; maybe the real shock comes when I see her open and close her fist as if nothing happened.
Unfortunately, at this moment, I can't tell anymore what's normal and what isn't; since I saw Yui move like the wind and Dalia's magical flower, I'm becoming slowly anesthetized to it. Not that it means anything good.
I catch the coach moving closer to the ring, a pronounced frown on her face, strong enough to create wrinkles that cross a good part of her forehead—like waves. "HASTINGS! Remind me for a moment, boy, did I do anything that might have given you the impression I wanted the fight to be over?"
"No ma'am." He responds angrily, hiding it very poorly behind the killing gaze he keeps locked at Colette—a gaze that is met only by her now nonchalant expression.
"Then suck it up and get back to it; your opponent hasn't gone down yet, and let me assure you of one thing. In a real fight, you won't get the courtesy your opponent is showing you. So move. THAT'S AN ORDER!" Her scream is so loud and dominant that, for a moment, every onlooker's gaze shies away from the fight. "And you, Colette; I saw what you did. Next time you catch a sweet opening, don't let it go to waste and exploit it without mercy; you could have ended the fight in one blow if you had chosen to hit your opponent's jaw. So stop holding back."
Momentarily, skepticism becomes splattered on the man's face as he, to confirm her words, looks back at Colette, seeing a machine of a woman, patiently waiting for the fight to resume. Seeing that she's truly holding back is enough to anger the proud man so much that he is taken over by instinct and fails to hold back a bloodlust growl that parts his lips and reveals the deadly teeth it hid. I cross my arms and smile at the scene, seeing how ironically he lost the power he thought he had—an action I regret immediately.
His expression then changes out of nowhere, timely with a cold shiver that puts me on high alert and steals my smile; of course, the feeling and time are not a coincidence—it is rare when they are. For a moment I hesitate to find the source, but it doesn't last long, because when I catch his partially glowing eyes on mine, it evolves into something else entirely.
A ghoulish grin twists his lips—a sickening sight—a feeling apparently shared between Colette and me as she promptly readies her fists upon notice.
"Ha! Everything makes perfect sense now. What a nice surprise; you're more of a bastard than I could ever imagine, Feral." He straightens his back, fixing his posture and acting composedly and full of himself like before; that manages to confuse Colette, who I can see was only waiting for the man to—in his uncontrolled state—lunge at her. "Coach is right, you're not giving your all; she just missed the reason. And here I was angry, thinking you were mocking me, but no, you're just making a show for your human girlfriend right there."
It sure is funny how things can go from okay to hell in a single instant; the crushing weight of uncountable gazes befalls me, robbing me of any strength to move, which leaves my legs weak and trembling, and as a response, anxiety swells up on my brain, making me feel like about to explode into a pulp of vomit and blood. To counter this, I attempt again to diverge the bad thoughts by focusing on anything that isn't the people. Unfortunately, this day isn't being kind to me, so, in the attempt to do so, I end up unconsciously drifting toward the only fragment of familiarity in the room.
Her eyes—oh, how strange it is to see them not cold or angry, but instead genuinely and startlingly human—there's only shock in those black irises, one that creates chaos inside of her whole being, briefly lowering the impenetrable guard she so attentively kept up to this second.
Of course, from all the people who are shocked and frozen, her opponent is the only one who savors the moment ever so thankful, sneakily dashing from one side of the ring to the other, like a rat, in hopes of enjoying the fruits of his labor and grandly exploiting this newborn opening.
I widen my eyes as the man's jab is launched towards his opponent without mercy, which serves as an alert to the woman, seeing she was distracted by my presence and focused on my expression.
As quick as possible, she gets light on her feet, turning around and managing to catch the man's wrist by a strand before it could connect, or so she thought, as from below, another fist sneakily comes up and finishes the job in an opportunistic uppercut.
Colette's eyes roll up and disappear shortly, leaving only the white part exposed. A foul laugh rings as the man proudly watches the woman's form lose strength and fall.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
The sound is drowned down as a figure walks past me, blocking the view; the coach holds her right hand high and signals for the black vests to come.
"If I were you, kid, I would look away now; what's about to happen won't be pretty to watch." I'm not allowed the second to question if she's talking to me or not, as she side-eyes me seriously. "So do me a favor and save me the trouble of seeing you throw up; I have a sandwich waiting for me, and I don't want to lose my appetite."
"Wait, what do you—" While formulating the question, a gruesome scream paired with something clearly breaking calls to my curiosity.
"AHHH! Fuck! FUCK! My wrist, you bitch!"
I find myself leaning past her figure to catch a glimpse of what's happening on the ring, and the sight sure is not a pretty one. Blood and bone; the wrist of Colette's opponent—if it even can be called a wrist anymore—is twisted and bleeding a river that pools on the ring's floor; all meanwhile, Colette's head hangs low as thick clouds of hot breath exit her open mouth, seemingly doing it half-conscious.
Catching this scene, I can't help but look back at the coach's face and notice how unemotional she acts, as if she...there's no way...
"You knew this was going to happen?" I ask incredulously.
"Yes, that is my job after all; why else would I allow the fight to happen in the first place?" Pulling a cigarette from between hair strands, she brings it to her mouth and lifts one finger towards its tip; a small fire begins burning from it, leaving me to suppress my surprise as I watch it happen. "I believe you don't know much of Bellerose, if anything about her kind since you're making such an angry face. Yet, you seem willing to help her out; you'll do."
One of the black vests walks by us, stopping as their eyes catch on the lit cigarette. "Ma'am, you can't smoke here or the sprinklers will—"
She doesn't even say anything; she only gazes at the person with a commanding expression, compelling them to shut up and move on.
Smoke fills her lungs as almost all of the cigarette is gone in one drag, and then she does something strange, tilting her head all the way up and releasing the smoke toward the ceiling.
"You know what? Scratch what I said before; you'll do me a different favor." Not explaining anything, the woman calmly walks to a bench near us, giving me a moment to catch what's happening in the ring.
Claws from left to right swing, blood splashing in all directions as the fight that once was hand-to-hand becomes a cage fight where rules are but a sick joke.
The form of a man that I saw before is gone now, in its place, a fur-coated creature standing taller than ever, with a long, bleeding snout, razor-sharp fangs ready to rip and tear flesh, and a bushy tail—neither a man nor a wolf, but something in between.
As per Colette, her form doesn't change apart from the growing claws and glowing eyes, but that doesn't stop her from going toe-to-toe with the werewolf in front of her.
My attention diverges from the worryingly fight to the death as the coach returns, pushing away the black vests dismissively, acting as if what's happening in the ring isn't there while holding a bunch of towels.
There aren't any words before the many towels are all pushed on me, forcing me to grab them all in my arms and hug them tight so none slip away.
"This is what you're going to do for me," She points towards the ring as another cigarette ends on her lips, and the smoke is released upwards. "When the sprinklers go off, everyone will leave the room; that is your cue to go into the ring and calm Bellerose. Do that for me, and I'll be owing you one. Got it?"
"Wait, but why are you doing this? Why make Colette lose control?"
"Kid, like I said, you don't know much about her; but, I suppose I should tell you a little bit since you don't seem like you'll run away from the trouble. Just know this: she is a great fighter, but there's one thing that doesn't allow her to be the best, and that thing is what I'm seeking to root out. Simple as that."
Finishing her words, the coach places one rough hand on my shoulder and pushes me towards the ring. "Time's up, kid. Good luck."
While considering what I can even do in this situation, the last chance to back out of these shallow waters is gone; rain starts to fall down, and the sprinklers activate as the heavy smoke from the cigarettes finally reaches them.
As soon as the first droplet wets the tip of my nose, everyone inside the training area mumbles in surprise and leaves the place, clogging the exit; in between the mass of people, I spot the coach disappearing shamelessly among them. How and why did I end up in this situation again?
A gray rain falls down on me.
I soak in it, cold and dripping, the water coating strands of hair and creating a considerable weight on the coat that quickly glues to my form—it doesn't matter the hows and whys; what does matter is the fact that I won't be in the passenger seat for any longer.
I won't risk innocent people getting hurt over my weakness again, even if these people might not be totally human.
Never again.
It must be the third time I have tried to find reasoning for the unreasonable, and you know what? I'm tired of complaining; it is time to deal with what's being thrown onto my back head-on; no more running or blaming anyone else for it.
Control is what I desperately need, and seeing no one will simply give it away, I'll fucking take it by the throat.
I stride towards the ring with a newfound fearlessness, the cold water slowly losing its grip as resolution heats me up head to toe.
With one hand, I grasp the ring's rope strongly and start climbing up at the same time as the fight's struggling point ends, and a winner begins to be settled.
Colette, despite her injuries, stands in front of her opponent as he, weak from blood loss and failing to heal all the deep cuts, falls down as his transformation loses strength and form, returning back to just a muscular man, now too scared to beg for his life.
It is now or never; I'll make good on my promise to Reele.
In hurried steps, I block the woman's view from reaching the hurt man, standing in between both with my arms extended, creating a physical barrier in hopes of stealing the single fragment of consciousness she has, assuming she has it. The towels I held fall to the ground to be forgotten for now.
Both parties become instantly surprised by my sudden presence in their own way, with the man sighing in relief and attempting to get back up as Colette stares at me with cold, glowing golden eyes.
The thick clouds of hot breath leave her open mouth and warm the air; fangs at ready to maim anything alive to pieces if it gets the chance.
"Hey!" Back on his feet, the man calls out to Colette. "I'm sorry, all right. I just needed the bet's money; it was never my intention to make you go into psycho mode—"
Without turning around, I gesture for him to stop talking, seeing that the words will only go over her head. "Forget it; she won't hear you even if you try. So please, step away and let me deal with this; you did enough harm already."
"What do you mean I 'did enough harm already'? Do you think this was what I wanted to happen? For me to almost die? Fuck no!" He says it out loud, earning a growl back from Colette that makes him step back. "Whatever; it doesn't matter. Do what you will, human; it is your funeral, not mine."
Forced to watch her prey attempt to escape, Colette's face contorts into a feral rage; to stop it from happening, she postures herself right to dash and catch, but I don't allow her.
Doing the opposite of the man, I step closer to her, leaving only I in her attack's reach.
Her mind, so taken by anger, doesn't seem to assimilate in time before her body does the action.
A set of claws slashed down, the plain knowledge that there's no way for me to dodge it scares me, but that doesn't change the fact that I stand my ground despite the incoming pain.
It comes as a surprise when the pain I feel is not the one I expected.
In the last second, Colette's mind finally seems to catch on to my presence, which in turn gives her time to retreat her claws—all but one.
The remaining one reaches the bridge of my nose, opening a wound that I only notice when the familiar taste of iron coats my lips.
The sprinklers stop their relentless work, finally ceasing the rain inside the room.
Her face goes back to the same one she had before when she spotted me; the gears slowly turn as her eyes lose the glow when facing the blood pools in the ring's floor mixed with water.
Seizing the opportunity, I decide to make sure she's truly back.
"Hey, Colette? Are you...better now?" I whisper the question calmly, keeping my hands up to show her I'm not here to fight to avoid the risk.
"What happened?" She commands the question out of her more like an order and faces me, noticing the fresh wound on my face; that seems to stun her for a second as the residual anger still present in her voice starts dying down. "You are hurt."
"I know, but it's okay. It's just a scratch...I think." Out of my own curiosity, I lift a finger and touch the wound; the blood is warm to the touch, and it shows no hint of stopping bleeding for the next minute or so.
I wince when attempting to determine the depth of the wound, which in turn compels me to make the smart decision and stop messing with it.
"It doesn't matter; like I said, it is fine. And, about what you asked: only you can confirm this, but I believe you passed out from the punch, then, out of nowhere, you started moving again, out of control. You broke the man's wrist and started to beat the crap out of him. That's when I got in the ring to stop you from doing something dumb and actually kill the guy."
Of course, seeing no reason to mention the coach's plan or words, I simply don't; I'll leave the work of figuring it out for her because I don't want to be responsible for whatever happens next.
There aren't any words spoken as she fixates on the blood below, lost in her own thoughts, something easy to notice. It lasts enough to make me uncomfortable, but worse is when she takes a deep breath and meets my gaze again, this time carrying not only anger but suspicions as well.
"Tell me the truth." Colette strides close to me menacingly, hand forcefully grasping the flaps of my coat, almost getting me off the ground while trying to keep me in place to state her dominance. "This is the second time you help me; you'll tell me what's your end game."
Genuine surprise downs on me seeing that is what's bothering her so much, unfortunately to the point I can't contain a laugh from blurting out of me. That earns me a warning growl, one that I don't mind that much.
"I'm sorry for laughing; it's just that the answer is very simple." Straightening my expression with a deep breath, I make sure to look at her seriously. "There's no occult plot here; I just did what I thought to be the right thing."
"You..." Letting go of me, she silently observes my face before stepping away to double-check and make sure I'm serious. Once she has an answer, a sigh parts her lips, and the normal seriousness I'm used to seeing her wear returns. "You're scary, human."
These words take me back to the apartment complex, a memory telling me that this isn't the first time I heard someone say that to me.
"Yeah, you're the second person to tell me that. I guess it is time to start worrying." I smile light-hearted at her, no longer receiving any kind of reaction or sign of emotions—basically back to the usual then.
A handclap emanates from nearby, confusing both Colette and me as we move our heads in sync to find the sound's source. There, a few steps away from the ring, the coach stands unmoving with a satisfied expression.
"Nice work, kiddo; I won't lie, in my head, you would be dead by the time I got back, but you actually managed to calm Bellerose. Not bad, not bad at all." She gives me a quick thumbs-up that lasts about one second before it is overtaken by a cross of arms. "Now come down here, maggots; I don't have all day."
Obeying her request, I quickly approach the ring's ropes and duck down, as climbing it up again is a no-go with my current clothes. A hand comes from the left, grasping the rope and lifting it, enough to make the job of squeezing past the gap a little easier.
On the other side, standing now at ground level, I look back at the ring for a moment to thank the agent before she abruptly throws the towels I sincerely had forgotten over. The time it takes for them to land atop my head is enough for Colette to jump over the ropes and land beside me.
I take one of the towels and hand it to her, receiving a silent nod that I interpret as thankful, and then I use one to wipe the blood away from the new cut of mine.
Even half-wet, the towels help get most of the water from our forms, leaving only the clothes dripping still.
"Alright, I'll go straight to the point, seeing that I still have a handful of agents to train." Stepping closer, the coach rests a heavy and alarmingly warm hand on my shoulder, succeeding in stealing my attention. "Your boss called and said she is low on time and wants to meet you right about now. A piece of advice from the wise: don't leave Yuria waiting for long. And another thing, maggot, take care of that wound before you get a nasty infection."
"Yuria? Who's..." Combining one brain cell with another, I arrive at the puzzle's conclusion and get my answer. "Wait. Are you talking about Julia? Julia Blue?"
"Oh! Yes, her. If you don't know, then pay it no mind; it is nothing that matters." To both avoid the scenario where I ask anything more about it and to rush me out, she doesn't lose a moment and starts to give me a 'friendly' push that feels like being hit by a bicycle.
Without another alternative, I direct myself to the exit.
"Now, Bellerose, I think you and me both know we have a lot to talk about...Where do you think you're going, huh? Agent!"
Ignoring the words from the coach, Colette simply walks past her and meets me halfway to the exit.
"Agent Bellerose! You do understand that you're disobeying a direct order from a superior, yes?" The question is asked in a loud and good tone, so there is no chance Colette doesn't hear it.
Coming to a full stop—without even turning around—Colette answers in a nonchalant voice. "Yes."
Confusion down on me, but noticing that the woman beside me is not stopping to listen to her coach and instead continues forward, I do the same. We make it to the sliding door and leave everything that just happened behind.
On the corridor yet again, I look to left and right, remembering there isn't a single clue in this head of mine that points a way to Julia's office, so, with a clear expression of someone who is lost, I turn to Colette.
"Uhm...Could you take me to—"
Colette is quick to interject, not even needing to hear the whole question.
"Follow." She orders, giving me a full view of her back and resuming her walk.
I sigh and mumble to myself. "What a day...I'm glad this is going to be over soon so I can get some shut-eye."
Expelling the last complaint out of me, I look over to where the woman who was supposed to guide me is, and seeing her far away in the corridor, I'm forced to run right after to avoid getting lost in the sea of people.
What a day indeed.
Inside the training area, Coach Taruah watches with a hidden smile as the human girl and the agent leave the room without looking back.
"Kids these days." Taruah finds a dry spot on the ring's edge and stops to rest her legs, giving her the perfect opportunity to free a cigarette hidden between her hair strands and light it up, but before she's able to accomplish this fantasy, an annoying vibration originates from deep within her pocket and steals her mind.
Pulling it out irritably, the hints of irritation start to die down, taken over by a smile upon reading the caller's name plastered on the screen.
She takes the call and lifts the phone to her ear. "Your plan worked, somehow. I don't know if the fact it did unsettles me more than it reassures me, so for now, color me impressed."
On the other side of the line, Yuria laughs in a relaxed manner. "Next time try having a little more faith then, Taruah; you know I never do something I'm not sure about, especially if my puppies are involved. So, give me the rundown: how well did it work in your eyes?"
"Well enough; nothing miraculous, but it sure is a start to getting your dog out of the leash she wears. Her case still impresses me, you know? A werewolf afraid of transforming, what a bizarre joke."
Using her shoulder to keep the phone in place, she plucks the cigarette out and instantly bites it in place to smoke. "It was luck that your girl even got here in time; a few seconds off and you would have gotten yourself a one-way ticket to headache land. She's crazy for putting herself between werewolves."
"That's the thing; it isn't luck when you know something will happen, dear. Intuition has not failed me yet."
"And that's your way of saying you had someone tailing her in case something went wrong, isn't it? I doubt you would want to bite your tongue like that."
"Let's not spoil the surprise; leave as it is. Be happy; our long-due debt is over now. I'll even sweeten the deal and pay you a couple of rounds; there's this lovely place I found that I think you'll love, especially the people. They are very fixated on horns and motorcycles; you'll fit right in."
A drag of smoke warms her throat, a familiar sensation that keeps one's head in place. "Thanks, but I'm not in the mood to lie to a bunch of drunken people about my horn; saying it is fake only works until someone tries to yank it out and finds out that it doesn't come off."
"Well, I was going to say that is the fun of it, but you're right. Still, the offer stands; if you need it, you'll just need to knock on my office."
"I'll keep that in mind." Coach Taruah's attention goes from the phone to the training agents returning to the room to continue on their schedules. "Work needs me. Best of luck with your unit."
"Thank you; I'm sure I'll need it. Try not to have too much fun beating your pupils." Yuria says happily and disconnects, but not before stealing a single laugh from the coach.
"This woman; not only did she gather the most problematic agents but now found an out-of-the-curve human—a rare talent only someone like her could have." She sucks the cigarette dry in one pull, leaving the butt to fall into a puddle on the ground. "Time to get back to work."
And, like this, Coach Taruah returns to her duty, screaming at her pupils and molding the future of the agency.
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