Dynamis | Chapter 20 - Betters (Patreon)

Karl spent the morning leading up to class avoiding Lilibelle. Though, as he thought about it, he wondered whether it required any active effort on his part, with Chovek’s punishment hovering over Lilibelle like a cloud. In any event, he saw her on his way in, and made a conscious effort to avoid looking at her. Once he settled into his seat, he caught her gaze and she quickly looked away.

“Good morning, Karl,” Millie said, striding down the aisle on Karl’s right.

“Good morning, Millie,” Karl said, forcing a smile to his lips. Dealing with Lilibelle and Daidari had left a bad taste in his mouth, souring the very idea of socializing from the moment Millie approached. Even so, with the loss of her partner, he couldn’t find it in himself to ask that she leave him alone. He wanted to be tender with her. “How are you doing?”

Millie’s gaze wandered for a moment. “Better than yesterday,” she said. Her eyes and cheeks were red, and there was a lackadaisical lilt to her voice. Her fingers writhed beneath the weight of the laptop under her arm. “Thank you. For the other day, I mean.”

“Of course.” Karl assumed she meant when he had spoken up for her when she was at a loss for words. He nodded and Millie offered a curt bow before taking her seat behind him. Kuuna appeared not long after, and Karl met Lilibelle’s terrifying gaze one last time.

“Good morning, class,” Kuuna said as he threw a thick wad of documents onto his desk. The class reciprocated with a greeting of their own. “Today, we’re going to expand on your ability in melee combat. Up until now, most of your training has consisted of firearms and the Dynamic Frame. I am here to tell you that there may come a day where neither of those things may be able to help you.” Kuuna pointed at a student somewhere on Karl’s right. “Go ahead, Mister Sareau.”

“If our fight is against other Frames and Fiends, why do we need to learn this?” Ader asked. “Seems like a waste of time.”

“Because there will come a day where you are without your Frame or your weapon,” Kuuna answered darkly. “Humans are unpredictable. If I come face to face with a Fiend, there’s no question what I have to do. I kill it or it kills me. With humans, it’s not so clear.” He formed the shape of a gun with his pointer finger and thumb, then pressed it against Lilibelle’s forehead. Karl’s fingers curled as he leaned forward, the muscles in his feet prompting him to run to her aid.

“Miss Katsun could be a trained spy or an ordinary civilian. If I allow my emotions to take hold, allow my guard to fall for even a moment”—he nodded to Lilibelle and, catching on to his intent, she gently grabbed his wrist and turned it—“she could disarm me in an instant.” Lilibelle released his hand and Kuuna dipped his hands into his coat pockets. “I’m not going to try and convince you to be less understanding. We’re social creatures by nature. We want to understand those around us, empathize with them. What I want to instill in you is the understanding that you will be at a severe disadvantage someday, and that disadvantage may take shape in your disarmament.”

Kalki’s nonchalant face reappeared in Karl’s mind. Despite her small stature, she’d managed to take full control of the situation from the moment she appeared. Every word out of her mouth felt intended to pull him and Sean apart. She had been a woman who excelled in leveraging her position.

I wonder what they’re doing to her? He hadn’t heard a thing since she’d first been taken captive. As far as he was aware, Deadeye hadn’t made any attempt to return her to Stinger, either. Part of him wondered if she was dead.

“We don’t have time to teach you everything there is to know, but we can teach you the basics. Ken Morough will be your instructor today.” He glanced at the clock. “He’ll be expecting you any minute. Report to room 241 down the hall past the elevator. Leave your laptops here.” He sat in his chair and turned the first page of the documents on his desk.

Karl rubbed the back of his neck, then got up from his seat. Someone caught his wrist just as he started to walk. He looked over his shoulder to see Millie.

“Um, do you want to walk there together?” Millie asked, curling a lock of her thick red hair around her finger. 

Heat rushed to Karl’s face. “Uh, s-sure.”

Millie smiled and let go of his wrist, her face a blazing red. “Great,” she said softly.

A screech echoed against the walls, startling Karl. He turned his head to see Lilibelle at the other side of the room, her face twisted into a glower. She spun around, nearly knocking over one of the other students. “Move it, Kevin!” The student sidestepped her much more eloquently than Karl would have. Lilibelle paused in the doorway, her hand on the frame, and gave Karl one last glare before leaving.

“Is everything all right between you two?” Millie asked.

“Oh, don’t worry about her, this is normal for us,” Karl said. “Everything’s fine.”

Millie’s stare veered toward the door then back to Karl. “Okay. If you say so. But you can talk to me if you want.”

Karl swallowed the frown coming on. “I’m fine,” he said, forcing a chuckle. “Come on, we don’t want to be late, do we?”

Millie smiled and crossed her arms under her bust. “No, of course not.”

Karl and Millie were the last students to leave. Millie stepped into the hall first, Karl right behind her. He glanced over his shoulder at Kuuna, whose attention was fastened to his work. As Deadeye’s leading authority in Fiend anatomy, he probably had to work overtime with the new Sovereign threat constantly looming over them.

And we’re the ones who are going to have to fight them. He’d known this, obviously, from the moment the announcement had been made. But it only had begun to land on him this morning. The average conductor had a life expectancy of three years. What would that look like with the Sovereigns? Two years? One? Maybe even less.

Karl licked his lips, stared at the pleated skirt Millie was wearing while he trailed behind her. His mind cleared, at least a little bit, but now it was preoccupied with thoughts of Millie and Lilibelle.

“Do you know how to fight?” Millie asked, slowing down so she and Karl walked side by side.

“Does losing to your older brother in wrestling matches count?”

Millie giggled and pressed three of her fingers to her mouth. The way she carried herself felt regal, as if he were walking beside a princess. “Goodness, I’m sorry. That was just too funny.”

Karl rubbed the back of his neck. He wanted to smile, but despite Deadeye giving their class the go-ahead to fraternize with others outside of their assigned partners, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Nothing memorable or impactful had happened between him and Lilibelle, but even so, he couldn’t put away the feeling that he was betraying her.

“That’s not something I hear often,” Karl said, only realizing how deprecating he sounded after the words came out of his mouth. “I, uh, forget I said that.” That was stupid of him to say.

Millie giggled again, then clasped one hand over the other behind her.

“What about you?”

“Me?” She tilted her head curiously.

Karl nodded.

“Oh.” The chipper tone to her voice was still there, but the eyes told a different story. They grew vacant, began to wander. “I’m decent.”

Karl nodded and allowed time to pass between them. As it did, he continued to sneak glances at her, wondering how he might be able to help her grieve. He recalled how he felt the day he lost his mother and brother. It was a feeling he wouldn’t wish on his worst enemies.

“Hey, I know it’s not my place, but uhh, if it helps,” Karl said, wondering if what he was about to say was crossing any boundaries, “my brother and mother—”

“I think that’s it right there!” Millie pointed to a room the other students were disappearing into. She snatched his wrist and quickened her pace. “Come on!”

“R-Right.”

Millie practically dragged him to the door, catching the door before it closed and positioning him beside her. “Phew! Made it!” She let go of his wrist, then walked inside. She stepped to the right of the door and pushed her back against the wall. Karl stepped in after her and leaned against the wall opposite of Millie, taking care not to step on the blue mats that had taken up most of the floor.

The other students that had filed in had created a line along the walls. At the back of the room was a man seated with his hands on his knees and his back turned. He was dressed in black, baggy clothes with a sash tied around his waist. As soon as the door swung shut, the man’s head turned around.

“Good morning, students,” the man said, rising to his feet with a jump. He ran a hand over his black hair, a portion of it tied into a knot, then turned to face them with his arms folded. “My name is Kennigan Morough, but you can just call me Ken. I will be your martial arts instructor.” A hand went up and Ken flicked his head at the student.

“Mister Morough—” Rean started.

“Ken,” the man corrected.

“Er… Mister Ken,” Rean tried again.

“Just Ken.”

“... Right. Ken.” Rean looked uncomfortable, but Ken’s golden eyes flashed with satisfaction. “This seems a bit over-the-top and not very helpful to what we’ll actually face out there. Mister Kuuna explained that these techniques would be useful if we ever found ourselves disarmed, but the circumstances where these skills will be useful will be extraordinarily few. Besides, I thought we were only learning the basics?”

“You are learning the basics.” Ken affirmed this with a nod. “I’m not going to teach you just how to fight unarmed, but how to use a combat knife as well. It may seem like useless knowledge now, but if you ever come face to face with another person and you don’t have a weapon”—he raised his hands—“then these become your weapons.”

Rean shook his head. “I’m sorry, I just don’t agree with this. Can we opt out?”

“No. Any other questions?” He waited a solid three seconds. Rean sighed. “Very well then. What I’m going to do first is start you off with a few examples. Take off your socks and shoes and step onto the mat.”

While Karl and Millie took off their shoes, Ken stepped off the mats and retreated into a room in the back. The students voiced various grunts and hushed words of disapproval, stepping onto the mats when they were done. Karl stepped onto the mat next, then Millie right after. Ken returned not a minute later and stepped back onto the mat.

“Today, I’m going to have someone help me demonstrate proper grappling technique, as well as what you can do to get out of some common grapples.” He stepped to his side and waved an arm at the door. The door swung open, and out stepped a woman dressed the same as Ken.

“Good morning, students,” the woman said, smiling wide. Her hair was long and black, tied into a long ponytail. Sharp, blue eyes examined each student as if weighing each one’s worth, her face as smooth and clean as alabaster. She intertwined her fingers and steepled them above her sizable bust. “My name is Emiko Ishima. I believe you have already met my sister, Daidari.”

Karl scanned the students for Daidari. He found her on the right side of the U-shaped line they’d created, her mouth agape and the color drained from her face.

“Are you not going to say anything, my dear sister?” Emiko asked.

“Your visit comes as a surprise,” Daidari said after a pause. “It is good to see you again.”

Emiko’s smile widened. “Please forgive her. She has always been a timid little kitten. Thank you for taking care of her during this turbulent time.”

Daidari’s gaze fell to the floor, her lips forming a hard line. Even from where Karl stood, he could see the muscles in her jaw tightening.

“Miss Ishima,” Ken started. “Hm. Actually, if you could, please refer to my assistant as Miss Emiko. I’d like to avoid any confusion.”

“May I make a suggestion?” Emiko asked, raising one smooth hand. Ken nodded his assent. “In the interest of rank and file, I believe it would be more appropriate to refer to my dear sister by her given name rather than myself.”

“Ah. I suppose you’re right,” Ken said.

Emiko nodded the same way a hospitable maid would. “I do not wish to make anyone in this room uncomfortable by requesting they refer to me by my given name. That would be inappropriate. Don’t you agree?”

Ken sighed. “Very well. Class, please refer to her as Miss Ishima.”

“Thank you so very, very much.”

“Of course. All right, class, pay close attention now. Miss Ishima, will you turn around and stand there?” Ken asked, pointing to a spot a couple feet to his left. Emiko nodded her head and took the assigned spot. “Now, I’m going to come up from behind here like this.” He strode up to Emiko and wrapped his arms around her. “See where my arms are? I have my right arm above her chest and my left arm around her waist. Miss Ishima is going to break free.”

Emiko stepped to her right and swung her left arm toward Ken’s groin, stopping inches from striking it.

“By doing this,” Ken said, “she’ll have broken free.”

“What if our opponent is a woman?” Millie asked, raising her hand.

“A good question. You can still use this same technique with a minor adjustment.” Ken stepped away and he and Emiko resumed their prior stances.

Ken did as he had before and caught her in a hold. Emiko repeated the same maneuver she had before, sliding to her right to make room. Only this time she threw her left leg behind Ken’s right foot, then slammed her palm against his chest, throwing him over her knee, his back slamming the mats.

“Damn!” Lars said, gawking.

Ken wheezed and sat up, pointing to his chest.

“As you can see,” Emiko said, “it is quite effective for driving the air out of a person’s lungs. If not for the mats, he would have struggled to get back up.” Ken cocked a brow, draped one arm over his elevated knee. Was that respect? Or contempt? Emiko seemed oblivious to Ken’s expression—or she simply didn’t care—and offered him her hand. Ken took it and she helped him to his feet.

Karl raised his hand next.

“Go ahead,” Ken said.

“As useful as that looks, I feel like all that does is even the playing field. Brings us back to a neutral state.” He shook his head. “If we’re fighting on softer ground, or if my attack isn’t enough to knock the wind out of them, what then?”

“Miss Ishima, would you please resume the same position you took before you struck me?” Ken asked.

“Gladly,” Emiko said.

Ken repeated the technique one more time. “Let’s take this one a little slower so everyone can see better.”

“As you say.” Emiko moved slower this time, positioning her leg behind him just as she did before. Then she stopped and waited for Ken’s instruction.

“This is your opportunity,” Ken said. “My chest is not the only option, but it is one of the easier places to hit. However, if you want to deal some considerable damage”—he grabbed Emiko’s wrist and bent it back slightly, guiding it to his nose—“you strike the nose like this. If you’re not confident enough to use your palm, a good old fashioned punch to the face also works well.”

“Yes,” Emiko said, gently slipping her hand free of Ken’s grasp. The sharp blue sapphires that were her eyes observed him in a way that sent chills down Karl’s spine. “However, if you are able to strike your opponent with your palm, you will deal considerably more damage.”

Ken nodded. “As she says. Thank you, Miss Ishima.”

“The pleasure is mine.”

The two instructors parted ways and resumed their spots beside one another. “Now that you’ve seen how it’s done, let’s put it into practice. You have one minute to find a partner.”

Lilibelle stepped out of line and waved to Karl. Karl’s first instinct was to jog up to her, but he was stopped when Millie snared the crook of his arm with hers. He looked down at their connected arms, then back up at Lilibelle. Her eyes widened a fraction, her lower lip hanging in mild disbelief. Then she narrowed her brow, shut her mouth, and grabbed some other helpless guy by the scruff of his shirt.

“D-Do you mind?” Millie asked, her cheeks pinking.

“No,” Karl stammered, his gaze darting between her and Lilibelle. “Not at all.”