“Why does everyone keep blaming machine intelligence for the end of the world? Human beings built those machines and programmed them with specific instructions. Then our enemies figured out how to hack in, to bring the entire world crashing down around us. AI weapon systems, nukes, guns, they are all tools used by us. We’re the ones who destroyed our world, and we’re the ones who have to rebuild it.”
— Journal of Elliot Tucker, Leader of Idaho Compound and future Founding Father of Chikara City. Oath Keepers Archive of Truth, Volume 2
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Trainer Gebi waited until Sensei Nigai exited the far end of the barracks before she turned back to the row of initiates staring at her, silent and waiting.
“Well, now that that’s over, it’s time for us to have some fun,” she said and waved at her fellow brawlers to join her. The other fighters sauntered around to take their places on either side of her. Gebi’s smile was the opposite of reassuring. “As you heard, my name is Brawler Gebi, but to you, for the next month, you will address me as Trainer. You will answer, ‘Yes, Trainer’ or ‘No, Trainer’ when I ask you a question. Do you understand?”
The beat of silence after her question seemed to enrage her.
“I repeat: Do you understand me?”
Kiriai wasn’t the only one who flinched, but she readily joined in with the other initiates in yelling, “Yes, Trainer!”
“Follow me to the training hall. Now!” Gebi spun on her heel and jogged toward the doorway.
Taken by surprise again, none of the initiates moved . . . until the yelling started.
“Move it! Move it!” One of the brawlers stepped forward, spit flying as he screamed. Kiriai’s pulse jumped and her first instinct made her want to drop into a fighting stance, hands raised. As soon as her mind caught up, she knew it would be a bad idea. Even worse would be to let a hint of her humor at the situation show on her expression. Now that she was feeling more awake, the haranguing felt familiar. Kiriai sent a mental thanks to Trainer Kakyo from the youth arenas, who’d used similar tactics to prepare them for the stress of fighting.
A lean man next to Kiriai had already moved, racing after Brawler Gebi. Face carefully blank, Kiriai fell in right behind him.
“What? You don’t know how to run?”
The screaming continued behind her as the rest of the initiates moved.
“Go! Go!”
The short line of eight initiates ran through the hallway, still in their sparse sleeping clothes, bare feet soundless on tightly woven rugs. This hallway was much more spartan compared to the entrance they’d taken yesterday. Moments later, they followed Gebi through a smaller doorway that dumped them into the far side of the large training hall. Lanterns barely lit the vast space, which swallowed the sounds of their movement. Everything looked much more menacing and eerie compared to yesterday’s celebration. Gebi led them in a run past shelves and containers filled with training equipment of every sort. Kiriai wanted to stop and look closer but knew that she’d have plenty of chances soon. The corner of one side of her mouth turned up at the thought. She’d never been afraid of hard work, and if the brawler organization would help her hone her fighting skills . . . well, the thought sent a thrill through her. Fighting had always been her first love.
Kiriai was happy to leave the political maneuvering to Tomi and Shisen. They would pump their contacts for information and wrangle advantages to help Jitaku’s quest for reinforcements. Kiriai would much rather ignore all that, including the powerful people entangled in the mess, and focus on her fighting. Her excitement wavered as she remembered the skill level she’d seen in the short confrontation between Sensei Nigai and Brawler Gebi. Could she improve that much in the time she had?
“Toes on the line! Arms out! Space yourselves until your fingers don’t touch!”
The man she’d been following ran and stopped on the line indicated. He snapped to attention before holding both of his arms out in a T-shape while staring straight ahead. Kiriai decided he’d be a good one to follow and mimicked his actions. Frozen in the requested position, she didn’t look as she heard the rest of their group fall in. It took only moments. It wasn’t as if they were new recruits. Everyone here had been fighting for years, and obeying a demanding sensei was child’s play now that they were all wide awake.
“Attention!”
Feet snapped together and hands slapped against the thin fabric of their shorts.
Brawler Gebi paced in front of them, staring at each of them. When she came to Kiriai, a look of derision flashed across her face so fast, Kiriai thought she might have imagined it.
“So maybe not all of you are worthless,” Gebi said as she returned to front and center. She was looking at Kiriai when she said worthless. Kiriai forced herself not to react. What was going on here?
“The ability to follow an order well,” said Trainer Gebi as she moved her gaze up and down their line, “while a beginning skill, is one you will need every day of your new life as a brawler.” She stopped and smirked before continuing. “If you make it, that is. Sensei Nigai gave you a small taste of your new life. We brawlers belong to one man, Chief Kengen Kosui of Southern Burb, and anyone he delegates control to. We obey absolutely and we do this willingly. Willingly! Why?” She stopped to look at her fellow brawlers, who had lined up on either side of her, four on either side. When she looked back, her expression was fierce and a touch fanatic. “Because Chief Kosui keeps our burb, our hoods, and our families safe from our enemies.” She paused and her statement echoed in the huge hall that dwarfed their small group. Then she grinned. “And because he shares all the credits and power with his loyal fighters.”
A handful of the brawlers chuckled at her words, grins of agreement on their faces.
Gebi clapped her hands together, face stern again. “The ’forcer armband will always be here waiting for any of you who want the easy life. Feel free to quit at any time.” She pointed toward the doorway they’d come through, and Kiriai saw that someone had placed the post in a prominent position just inside the hall. Kiriai pursed her lips. Like she would throw everything away for the power offered by the limp armband that hung there.
“Now, let’s get started honing your bodies into something close to the condition expected of Southern Burb brawlers.” Gebi turned to her fellow trainers. “T-drills. Grab body shields, then positions!”
The other brawlers sprang into action, moving as fast as Gebi had under Sensei Nigai’s orders. Kiriai held her attention stance as each brawler ran to equipment shelves, grabbed a shield and raced back to lineup facing the initiates, leaving about ten feet between each other. As they stepped back into stances, the brawlers slid their arms into the straps on the shields and braced them against their forward legs. The shields looked much better than the ones Kiriai trained with back home. Burb craftsmen had made them out of a tight canvas weave with double-reinforced stitching. No fraying fabric or straps for burb brawler equipment. Randomly, Kiriai wondered what they filled them with. Probably something better than the lumpy mishmash of rags shoved into the ones she normally used. They definitely didn’t stint on credits for their fighters here.
“Spread out to face one of your trainers. Now! Move!” barked Gebi. Kiriai responded quickly, ready to get to work. Talking was overrated.
Once the initiates were in position, Gebi stepped up and took the pad from the man closest to her. “Brawler Akumu, let’s show the newbs how this is done.”
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The lean man grinned and moved across from Trainer Gebi, giving the initiate there a none-too-gentle nudge out of the way.
“Reverse punches. Move!”
The brawler surged forward across the open space and slammed a solid fist into Gebi’s shield as soon as he was close enough. Without pausing, he moved with fast lateral steps to his right until he reached the next trainer in line. Another solid punch and he was returning to the left, where he hit Gebi’s pad again as he passed. Kiriai saw the muscles of her body flex with the impact and marveled at how hard the man was hitting while moving so fast. He reached the woman to Gebi’s left, punched her shield and reversed his motion so fast his body leaned at a sharp angle. A final punch to Gebi’s pad and he was churning his feet to run backward back to his position, where he snapped to attention, drill complete.
Standing next to him, Kiriai could hardly hear him breathing much. Not only were these brawlers a few levels above her in skill, they were in amazing physical condition. How long had it taken them to get that good?
“That is the T-drill. It will improve your stamina, agility and foot speed. You better be fast or your neighbor will run into you. Your turn. Ready?”
“Yes, Trainer,” Kiriai yelled with the others and pushed her worries aside for another time.
“Move!”
Kiriai ran as fast as she could, her bare feet gripping the polished wood floor as she changed directions while trying to settle her weight to put a decent power behind her punches. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw two initiates barely avoid a collision. She didn’t let it distract her, pushing herself to move faster. Back at attention, her knuckles stung and she could feel the skin on the bottom of her feet burning after only the first repetition.
“Again!”
Kiriai launched herself forward again.
And again.
“Faster!”
Her lungs burned and she could taste copper at the back of her throat.
“Is that all you’ve got?”
The trainers yelled and jabbed their punching shields forward as her arms tired and her punches lost power.
“The armband is right over there if you want to quit already.”
The initiate at the end of the line to Kiriai’s left broke first, bending forward, hands on his thighs, sucking in deep gulps of air.
“Again!”
Kiriai forced her legs to move despite the wooden feeling of overused muscles. She managed yet another repetition. Barely.
When the initiate didn’t move forward with the rest of the group, Gebi charged at him, yelling. “Move it! Again! Don’t just stand there. Do you want to be a brawler?”
The man’s head lifted and he gave her a faint nod.
“Then move it! Now! Go!”
He moved forward at what could only generously be called a jog just as the rest of the group was running backward in the final movement of the T-drill.
And then it happened. Whether it was her burning muscles, exhaustion or the distraction of the yelling trainers, Kiriai lost focus for a brief second and didn’t pick her foot up far enough. Her heel caught on the floor and the slight stumble was enough to send her falling backward to the floor. At the last moment, she curled her back and turned to hit with her shoulder, instinctively working to protect her back and arm.
“What are you doing?” Gebi leapt forward to yell at her.
Kiriai tried to scramble back to her feet, but her body was happy right where it was. The thoughts running through her mind weren’t any help either. She had already failed after the first exercise on the first morning of brawler training . . . all before breakfast. This was much harder than she’d expected. How was she going to survive a month of this, much less excel? And here she’d thought she was in decent condition.
“Any time now, initiate. Stand up!”
Kiriai rolled to the side and got herself to one knee.
“How did you even make it here?”
Gebi was leaning forward, yelling so close to Kiriai that it made her ears ring.
“Who did you pay off to get here? Did you cheat to get here? What? You want to quit now that someone is making you do some real work for once?”
Kiriai’s gaze snapped to Gebi’s at the personal attacks and saw only malice there.
“Aw, there is a little fight in you after all. More than I heard.”
Kiriai clenched her teeth, pulled her feet under her and pushed to her feet. She wasn’t imagining this. Gebi had a problem with her, a personal one.
Lionel Sosa’s opinion was that “Anger does not solve problems—anger only makes things worse.” Practicing your Centering during these conditioning drills would help you level up multiple skills at the same time.
Yabban’s calm statement punctured the emotions building up in Kiriai. She sucked in a breath, turned from Gebi and aimed her gaze straight ahead. Kiriai focused on calming her breathing as her lungs heaved from the effort she’d been expending.
Thanks, Yabban. I thought I had kicked this anger thing. Guess not.
Why was the apple mean and angry?
I’m not an apple, Yabban.
Gebi was yelling something next to her ear, but Kiriai held her position, using the easy banter with her AI to distract her.
It was a crab apple.
Kiriai smiled inside, and the last of her anger fizzled away. Her pulse was slowing, but the rest of her body was slipping into that shaky stage that came after pushing too hard.
“Line up! Attention!”
Glad that she seemed to have lost Gebi’s attention, Kiriai tried to psych herself up for whatever was coming next.
“Trainers. Line up for alley drill.”
The initiates watched as the brawlers ran back to the equipment racks and returned with padded clubs in addition to their shields.
That couldn’t be good.
The trainers split into two lines, four on each side and facing each other, ten feet between their rows. When they were all in place, on some unspoken signal, they all yelled “Oda!” and dropped back as one into fighting stances. The practice bats sat on their shoulders while they braced the shields on their forward legs.
Gebi moved to stand at one end of the alley. “Initiates! Line up behind me now.”
Everyone quickly obeyed. Kiriai stifled a groan when one of the other initiates slowed at a crucial moment, leaving Kiriai to be the first in line behind Gebi. Kiriai made a mental note to remember that trick.
“Pay attention! I will now demonstrate the alley drill. I will attack each of my opponents with a front kick as fast as I can while still maintaining my form. Move fast. Hit hard. Don’t get hit. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Trainer!”
Kiriai’s inner rebel wondered briefly what would happen if she yelled “No, Trainer!” instead.
Shaking off the distracting thought, Kiriai focused on breathing to her usual slow count and pushed her emotions and body to settle as she used the small break to center herself.
In front of her, she watched Gebi fly through the alley, her kicks slamming into the shields with powerful thuds. She maintained a perfect fighting stance, her upper body swaying and moving to let the padded clubs whistle past her head without landing. The other brawlers were grinning, their clubs moving as fast as she did, whipping in deceptive patterns to try to catch the wily trainer with the single attack allotted them as she sped by.
A younger man whooped with glee when his pad grazed Gebi’s shoulder, and she tipped her head with a grin in passing.
Mere seconds after starting, Gebi reached the end of the drill and turned to face Kiriai, who stood lined up at the head of the initiates. Her grin disappeared and her expression hardened.
“Initiate Kiriai. Let’s see what you have.”
Steeled against whatever grudge Gebi had against her, Kiriai focused on pushing her tired muscles to respond despite the short recovery time.
***
“Back to your barracks! Get cleaned up and dressed. Eat breakfast. You have exactly one hour and I expect you to be back here in the exact same spots. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Trainer,” they all yelled. Kiriai wasn’t the only one whose voice had an undercurrent of relief to it. At least the last drill had been for one initiate at a time, giving the others a chance to recover between repetitions. Kiriai barely noticed the crawl of sweat that ran down the side of her face and neck. The hour of early-morning training had felt like ten, and Kiriai didn’t dare think about surviving the rest of the day. Her lungs no longer burned, and her face felt hot enough to fry an egg on. Plus, her hair, tunic and shorts were sweat-soaked. She’d never trained this hard. It was becoming obvious that the brawlers’ skills were on a different level than she was used to, and they worked extremely hard to get that way. How was she supposed to measure up? Jitaku Hood didn’t have much time.
Without another word, the group of trainers turned and jogged away, heading to a different doorway.
Left alone, Kiriai felt her body sag. She wasn’t the only one.
“Well, that was fun,” said the man who had been the first to fail at the start of their training. He turned and headed back the way they had come. “We only have an hour,” he said as he looked back at them over his shoulder and waved one hand at the time on one of the wallscreens. “We’d better hurry.”