Chapter 52: Ugly but Efficient
By second bell the spar hall had stopped pretending to be solemn.
Kori stood on a beam like it had offered her a balcony. "Public practice" she called, wiggling her fingers for quiet. "Unarmed. No themes. No death. Compliments mandatory. If anyone bleeds, I will invoice your ancestors."
Raizen yawned so wide his soul nearly escaped. Hikari elbowed him in the ribs. "If you fall asleep mid-fight, I’m disowning you."
"Try" he said, and yawned again.
Arashi unbuttoned his cuffs like the room was a gala. Keahi tightened her wrap with small neat tugs. Lynea’s braid looked like it had filed paperwork for the day’s agenda. Esen rolled his shoulders with the air of a man stepping onto a stage he’d accidentally rented for a month.
"First up - Esen vs. Four Volunteers Who Won’t Sue" Kori sang.
Four normal students stepped in - a jittery first year who’d been doing pushups while waiting, a tall kid with very careful posture, a girl with fast eyes, and a stocky second year trying hard not to look like he had something to prove.
Esen bowed low. "Welcome to my chaos masterclass!"
They circled. Esen clapped once. "No, closer! Come on, I ain’t gonna bite you!"
He moved with a grin that kept melting into focus, then back again. The careful-posture kid lunged straight - Esen pivoted and patted him on the shoulder like congratulating a door. Fast-eyes feinted high - Esen ducked so the feint had no one to lie to. Pushup kid charged, got escorted past on a gentle redirect and ended up blinking at air like it had betrayed him personally.
"Great entry" Esen said cheerfully, still moving. "Next time, put your heel down or I’ll steal it."
"Steal what?" the second year grunted.
"Your heel, of course."
Second year cut a tight angle and trapped Esen’s wrist. Esen beamed. "Good!" Then he sat down fast and rolled, which made the trap into a hug and deposited second year on the floor in a way that looked accidental and wasn’t.
The crowd made a pleased noise.
Fast-eyes came in again, smarter now. Esen let her tag him in the ribs, winced theatrically, then lifted her elbow with two fingers and showed her the path she’d just opened on herself. He didn’t take it. "See it?" he asked.
She nodded, flushed but smiling.
They reset. He counted footwork out loud like a coach - "one, two, small three, not heroic three" - then went still enough that all four opponents had to think at the same time. When they moved, he moved first, simple as a shrug. Two steps, one sweep, a polite shoulder check. Everyone ended up on their feet again, a little winded, nobody humiliated.
Kori clapped once. "Average" she said, which from Kori meant pure gold. "Hydrate."
Esen bowed in four directions, winked at the mirrors, and jogged out of the ring. The benches buzzed. Someone whispered, "Last year’s Scholars would have destroyed us" and someone else answered, "Last year’s Scholars wouldn’t have smiled."
Kori dropped lightly into the circle. "Professor Lynea, if you would..."
Lynea stepped in with the serenity of a librarian entering a library he knew book by book. Four new volunteers lined up. She examined their stances the way some people examine bad spelling.
"Feet under you" she said, pointing. "You - lower. You - stop apologizing with your shoulders. You - if you’re tall, at least try to be tall."
They rushed.
Lynea did not rush. She let the first two show her the exact mistakes she’d already predicted, then corrected them by demonstrating what the correction felt like. She took a wrist - not mean, just certain - led an elbow where it actually wanted to go, and set a palm down so gently the owner sat because the floor had obviously asked them to.
"Stop turning your hips away from your own spine" she told the tall one. He blinked. She nudged his hip with the side of her foot. "There. Again."
They went again. He didn’t turn away this time. She smiled a small, sharp approval and stole his balance with two fingers. The small crowd ooh’d like they were at a magic show. Lynea ignored them.
Fast-eyes version two tried a low sweep. Lynea stepped over it by a hair, then froze the whole ring with: "Pause." Everyone paused because she said it like gravity.
Lynea knelt, tapped the exact place fast-eyes had started the sweep. "This line is too long. Make it ugly." She drew a shorter path with her finger. "Ugly is ugly, but sometimes efficient."
"Got it" she said, and did.
Lynea let herself get cornered once, on purpose, then showed them what "cornered" actually means if your hips and shoulders are friends. She turned a square of floor into a triangle, the triangle into a door, and walked out of it.
Kori, from the sides again: "Teaching while sparring is illegal unless you’re good at it."
"I’m good at it" Lynea said, and planted the last student with a soft thump that sounded exactly like a lesson landing.
They bowed out. The normal students looked... Not defeated, but thoughtful. A first year near the bench whispered, "I feel like I just got caught cheating by someone who also gave me the answer key."
Hikari took a turn next - two quick drills, no weapons, all economy. She moved like the rods in the ceiling had taught her manners and she’d decided to be top of the class. She pinned a guy with a single line of weight and apologized while doing it. He said "thank you" from the floor, mortified and delighted.
Keahi followed with a quiet intensity that made people hush without knowing why. She wasn’t smooth like Hikari yet. She was stubborn in a way the floor respected. When someone slipped her guard, she nodded - agreed - and fixed that hole three seconds later like patching a roof during rain. The crowd warmed to her the way crowds warm to anyone visibly improving in real time.
Arashi refused to perform and therefore performed constantly. He made simple things look inevitable. When a second year tried a flashy spin, Arashi stepped an inch and let the spin orbit him like he was a planet. He offered an elegant hand to help the kid up. "You have style" he said. "Learn timing. Style will still be there later."
The bench laughter turned into easy chatter. The room’s temperature shifted from wary to curious to "yeah, alright, maybe I’ll ask them something after". A cluster lined up to tug Hikari’s sleeve with questions about footwork. Keahi had acquired three people asking about breath. Esen was holding court about falling correctly and also incorrectly. Lynea had four students standing straighter just because she looked at them.
Kori drifted down and broke the circle with a clap. "Good. You made them barely sweat without taking their souls. Bare minimum achieved. Scholars are examples, not exhibits. Remember."
Someone in the crowd called, "You’re not like last year’s lot" and then looked like they regretted it. Kori grinned. "Compliment accepted on their behalf. I know those little devils, they’re honestly nothing too good to be true."
Raizen yawned again - catastrophic, jaw-cracking. He’d done one lazy warmup round and then spent the rest of the hour pretending the floor was a mattress. Hikari handed him water. "You alright?"
"Midnight is a social construct" he said. "I reject it."
"Don’t tell Kori you said that" Arashi murmured. "She’ll schedule midnight laps."
Kori had apparently heard anyway. "Midnight laps noted" she said without looking at them.
The hall began to empty. The buzz of conversation trailed out into the corridor where banners made long red shadows. A pair of second years leaned against the door, talking under their breath. One of them glanced back into the room, measuring. On the ring, Esen and fast-eyes ran through one last exchange - laughter, a clean counter, a fist-bump. "You’re weird" she told him, breathless.
"Thank you" he said. "I strive for it."
"Royal Scholars" someone said near the benches. This time it didn’t sound like a complaint or a prayer. It sounded like a spreadsheet getting a new column.
Kori slid her hands into her coat pockets and tilted her chin up at the high windows. "Wrap it" she said to the eight. "Classes. Eat something with protein. If anyone asks for help, try yes before you try no."
They collected bags and stray compliments. Hikari took a last question and sent a girl off with a scribbled footwork drill. Keahi stacked stray mats because leaving them messy felt illegal. Arashi returned a water bottle he had not borrowed.
As the last voices thinned, a hush drifted in that wasn’t about quiet so much as attention shifting elsewhere. Raizen, halfway through a yawn, glanced up because the hairs on his arm decided to be dramatic.
High above the mirrors, in a narrow pane that looked out from the corridor of the upper classrooms, a figure stood - still, unbothered by the glare. Not a first-year - the shape carried a confidence that had survived last year. They didn’t move. It didn’t make a show of watching. It just watched.
Raizen blinked and the silhouette was still there. Hikari followed his gaze, frowned, and then the reflection ate the window and there was nothing to point at without sounding like a conspiracy theorist.
"Something?" she asked.
"Nothing" he said, and didn’t believe himself.
The eight drifted into the hall, normal students peeling off with quick bows and faster smiles. Above, somewhere in the lattice of corridors and windows, someone kept watching a few breaths longer, then turned away. The mirrors went on reflecting the empty ring like they were waiting for the next story to start.