The group finish walking through the main floor and go inside a room on the second floor. The room is a fairly nondescript but tall room, with two beige blank walls, one beige wall with a door, and a beige wall with everything from two meters up being a series of window panes. The windows are on the right as one enters the room, the light giving everybody a bit of a long shadow. The floor is made of buffed wood, with the beige ceiling six meters above. As the last member of the group enters, the robot exits the room.
"This is it?" Emily asks to Riku.
"Yes," Riku says, turning to face Emily.
"Shouldn't there be training equipment and stuff?" Emily asks, doing another check of the room to make sure she didn't miss anything.
"This is just an introduction," Riku explains, "By the way, since I know you didn't read the book, I need to tell you to not talk back to him. He will be very abrasive and get right in your face, but you need to put up with it."
"Oh, so it's like those war movies?" Emily asks.
"Probably," Riku starts, "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Oh," Emily says, "Nevermind."
"You should take this opportunity to meet people," Riku suggests.
"Okay," Emily responds. She starts looking around the room, sizing up all the people. In one corner of the room, three boys that seem to be brothers are talking with each other. Brown hair, slim builds, boring. Near them are a couple more boring people. Brown hair, blonde hair, boy, girl. She doesn't see a point in trying to meet anybody boring. As she turns her head, her eyes are immediately drawn to a girl of about 4'10". She is of a very slim build, her arms and legs thin and spindly. She's wearing a one piece fuchsia silk dress, sleeveless and shoeless. Her bright pink hair is done in a raised ponytail, draping down to about shoulder length. But it's not all this that draws Emily in, though. She has a pair of purple, twisting antennae of about 20 centimeters long sprouting from her forehead, ending in curls. There's also some type of thin, pink, translucent cape-like structure originating from her back. Two sections are draped over her arms, another two hanging behind her and ending around shin level. Now this is somebody worthy of being Emily's friend. Emily walks up to her, giving her best idea of a friendly appearance.
"Hello," Emily says, smiling and waving.
"...oh, hello," she says, breaking her blank stare and looking to Emily with her pink eyes. She looks a bit intimidated being addressed directly like this.
"I'm Kiko," Emily says.
"Oh... um..." the girl says, looking down and away as she softens her voice quite a bit, "...I'm Chou."
"Nice to meet you, Chou," Emily says, holding her hand out. Chou steps back a bit, hunching and looking away. "What's wrong?" Emily asks.
"What do you want from me?" Chou says, a bit of fear in her voice.
"I just want to be your friend," Emily says, "You seem like an interesting person, unlike all these boring people around us. I'm sorry if I offended you."
"It's not that," Chou says, "I'm just so intimidated. Everybody is so big. And you're bigger than the other girls."
"Yeah," Emily says, "I can't really help that."
"No, you're okay," Chou says, "I'm sorry."
"Don't wor-" Emily starts, getting cut off as the door slams open. A man in his late thirties of about 5'10" wearing a military outfit with a crew cut and a mean expression walks in, batting his hand with a riding crop.
"All right, maggots!" he says, very loudly and in charge, "Line up! Two lines, each side facing center, 20 people each! Move, move, MOVE!" As he said that, the room goes into a bit of chaos as people start arranging themselves in lines. About twenty seconds later, there are two lines of people. Emily, having been caught off-guard, didn't get a chance to move next to Riku like she wanted. She instead has to settle with being one person away from the door, standing to the right of Chou with Riku directly across from her. As the last person gets in place, the man resumes speaking.
"That was pitiful!" he shouts, "Eighteen seconds too slow! What are you maggots doing, frolicking around?"
"Well, si-" one boy starts.
"Did I tell you to speak?!" the man shouts.
"No, si-" the boy starts to reply, getting cut off.
"Now," the drill sergeant says, walking down the line as he lightly smacks people with his crop to get them to straighten their posture, "My name is Drill Sergeant Williams. You pukes may also know me as Master Williams, 4th Dan of the Shadow Fist style. However, my name to you is 'Sir' and every sentence that comes out of those slack jaws of yours' will begin and end with my name. Is that clear?!"
"Sir, yes, sir," a couple people familiar with this style of training say, largely unsynchronized. Everybody else just continues to stand there, staring forward blankly.
"You miserable little leeches are already beyond hope!" he shouts, settling on a position at one end of the lines, facing down the center, "When I ask you a question, you sound off like you've got a pair. Is that clear?"
"Sir, yes, sir!" nearly everybody shouts, a bit more synchronized.
"Not good enough!" the sergeant shouts, "Again!"
"Sir, yes, sir!" everybody shouts, synchronized.
"That's what I'm looking for!" the sergeant responds, "Now, I see some of you came wearing whatever fell out of the closet this morning. I know that the administration promised you an open dress code and despite my protests, that's what they are giving you. You might want to show up in clothing you can fight in and won't mind getting torn to pieces as the Heartless tear you a new one. However, know that I don't care what else the pansy ass administration promised when they recruited you. For all I care, they promised you candy canes and puppies. But guess what? That's not what you're going to get!"
"My job here is to break you. I will shatter you. I will stick you in a blender and press 'liquefy'! And with the base components I salvage from the stain you leave behind, I will rebuild you. And when I am finished with you, you will be badasses! But until that day, you are worthless! You are stains of dog puke soaking into my carpet! But if anybody wishes to prove otherwise and graduate from my class early, all they have to do is challenge me to an unarmed duel and win! But I already know that you candy ass pieces of excrement would buckle under a gust of wind, so don't even delude yourselves!"
"Some of you might already know how to use a weapon or three, but that is not the reason you are here. My focus with this class will be to train you in the Shadow Fist style of martial arts. You might be wondering 'why do we need to know this?' Well, imagine yourself face to face with an enemy and your sword is nowhere to be found. Are you going to stick your head between your legs and kiss your ass goodbye? Or are you going to get right up to him, stick your hand through his sternum, and PULL HIS STILL BEATING HEART OUT?!"
"Now, I hear we have a celebrity in our class," the drill sergeant says cynically, walking down the line and stopping in front of Riku, "What is your name, boy?!"
"Sir, Riku, sir," Riku replies.
"Riku, huh?" the sergeant says, getting up real close to Riku, "That's a girly name if I ever heard one! Are you a homosexual, boy?"
"Sir, no, sir," Riku says.
"Liar!" the sergeant yells, "You must be the bottom of the relationship. I bet you take it like a girl and ask for seconds! Is that what you want to be?"
"Sir, no, sir," Riku replies.
"Christ, the Heartless must be more pathetic than I realized if some girly man like you sent them packing! Maybe you tired them out from your insatiable desire to be done from behind! Regardless, even if you somehow saved the universe twice, you are still a pathetic piece of tripe! Because of your success, your name in this unit from now on is Fluke. Is that clear, Fluke?"
"Sir, yes, sir," Riku says, a bit of pain in his voice as he submits.
"Good girl," the sergeant says, "You don't need to tell me about how some hobo gave you a 'keyblade' or any of the mystical rainbow powers it gave you. I already read about it in the gay pride newspaper." With that, the sergeant walks to the end of the line, stopping at the brown haired boy to the right of Emily. "What is your name, son?"
"Sir, Christopher Jones, sir," the boy says.
"That's it?!" the sergeant asks, "No fancy name? Do you even have a face, boy? A personality?"
"Sir, yes, sir," the boy responds.
"Lies!" drill sergeant nasty replies, "You're nothing! You are just an easily forgotten name on a page! You won't even get an obituary after the Heartless splatter you across the pavement! Your teammates won't even remember that you were ever with them even as you lie there bleeding! You're even more insignificant than the other people here today, if that were even possible! As such, your name from now on is 'Statistic'. Is that clear?!"
"Sir, yes, sir," Christopher replies.
"What is your excuse for aptitude, Statistic?" sarge asks.
"Sir, I'm good with a gun, sir," Christopher replies.
"Oh, Statistic here is 'good with a gun'," sarge says, an especially cynical tone with the last four words, "Any bottom feeding pond scum can pick up a gun and kill somebody! Do you have any skills that can actually be useful?"
"...Sir, no, sir," Christopher replies after thinking for a minute.
"Useless!" the sergeant yells, "I won't even dignify you with any more attention!" The sergeant walks up to Emily, giving a look of disdain.
"Holy hell, a man with massive tits!" sarge shouts.
"Sir, I'm a girl, sir," Emily says.
"Did I allow you to talk?!" the sergeant replies.
"Sir, no, sir," Emily replies.
"What is your name, boy?" the sergeant asks.
"Sir, Kiko, sir," Emily replies, softly.
"Kiko, huh? Did you regurgitate that name after your sexual reassignment surgery?"
"Sir, I'm a REAL girl, sir," Emily says in defiance, sick of the bullying attitude.
"Like hell you are!" sarge says, getting within a few centimeters of Emily's face, "Look, I know that when you were a boy, you were so whipped that you assumed huge silicon airbags on your chest will get you far. But in here, they will get you nowhere! Do you understand me?"
"Sir, yes, sir," Emily replies, swallowing her pride at Riku's bequest.
"Your new name is Butch," sarge starts, backing up a little, "Is that clear?"
"Sir, yes, sir," Emily replies.
"What are your skills, Butch?" sarge asks.
"Sir, I'm decent with knives, dual handguns, and sniper rifles, sir," Emily replies, recycling her form's wording.
"So you're only slightly less useless than Statistic, huh? Anything else on your impressive resume of worthlessness?"
"Sir, no, sir," Emily replies, not really caring to elaborate on her uncontrollable precognition.
"Thought so," sarge says, moving up to Chou and looking down on her, "What the hell is this?! I'm getting diabetes just by looking at you!"
"I'm sorr-" Chou starts, shrinking down as she cranes her neck to look up to sarge.
"Did I give you permission to speak, insect girl?" sarge asks.
"No, you-"
"Say my name!" sarge shouts.
"...Sir, no, sir..." Chou says, her eyes starting to water.
"What is your name, insect girl?" sarge asks.
"...Ch... Sir, Chou, sir..." Chou says.
"What the hell is wrong with you, maggot?" sarge asks, getting close enough that his head brushes up against her antennae.
"Ano... sir, I'm sorry, sir," Chou says, some tears starting to break.
"What are your useless skills?" sarge asks.
"Well, I'm-"
"Say my name!" sarge asks, getting right in her face with her antennae bending off him.
"...Sir, I'm... I'm a feylinus. I can-"
"Both sides of the sentence!" sarge shouts right into her face.
"...Sir, I have... magic... magical powers to... to... heal... and protect others... sir," Chou says, struggling with the language under the stress of the situation.
"Oh, is that so?" sarge asks, "Are you going to heal the Heartless to death? Huh?! What's your weapon?"
"Sir... I... I can use... wands... to am... amp... amplify my magic... sir..."
"So you're as pathetically weak as you look?" sarge asks.
"...Sir... yes, sir," Chou says.
"Pathetic!" sarge shouts right into her face. Chou turns her head away, but sarge uses his riding crop to force her head back into looking at his face, "You are a miserable little maggot, both figuratively and literally! Therefore, your new name is Squishy!"
"Sir, I'm sorry, sir," Chou apologizes, tears pouring out of her eyes.
"Sorry isn't going to cut it!" sarge shouts, "Who the hell do you think you are? You are wasting this school's time! You come in here wearing a dress I'd shoot my daughter for asking to buy. It hurts my eyes to look at you!"
"I'm sor-" Chou starts to say, trying to look away again. Sarge adjusts her head with the riding crop again.
"I'd get more progress training a literal insect than you," sarge yells, causing Chou to recoil some more, "You think your magical healing powers are going to stop the Heartless? Huh?!"
"I... I... I'm... I..." Chou says, starting to openly sob.
"Stop your sniveling!" sarge says, getting even more in her face. Chou leans back some more, falling right onto her butt. "Get up! On your feet or on your knees!"
"Leave her alone," Emily finally says. Sarge looks back up, giving Emily an icy stare.
"What's this? Somebody challenged me?"
"I just think that you're being a bit hard on Chou," Emily says as sarge gets right in her face.
"Is that so?" sarge asks, "You want to run this class?"
"Sir, no-" Emily starts to say as she realizes that she's in deep crap, getting interrupted.
"Everyone, back to the walls!" sarge shouts, placing his riding crop on Emily's shoulder as she tries to go with everybody else, "Except you. Go stand over there," sarge says, pointing to a spot with his crop. Emily reluctantly walks over there, turning to face sarge. They're about ten meters away from each other.
"Statistic!" sarge shouts, "Count to three!"
"One-" Christopher starts.
"My name, maggot!" sarge shouts.
"...Sir, one, sir! Sir, two, sir! Sir, three..."
A bright flash goes by Emily's eyes.
"...sir!"
The moment the R syllable finishes traveling through the air, sarge makes an attack. He practically teleports to Emily, a trail of sarge's colors being briefly visible on the path he took. He punches into Emily's stomach as he reaches her, sending her flying back. When she hits the wall, she forms a crater and gets embedded in it, stuck there. Another bright flash and Emily's back in the present.
"...sir!"
Emily dodges to the right as fast as she can, just barely evading the punch. She throws a right hook of her own at sarge, hitting his shoulder without him even flinching. They stay in this position for about a second before a huge amount of pain floods Emily. She starts holding back her swears while gasping loudly, grabbing her right hand with her left. She looks to see that she had her thumb inside her fingers, crunching and dislocating it when she connected her punch. Sarge scoffs at her, walking away as she stands there holding her thumb in agony.
"And this is why you maggots need me," sarge says, walking over to Chou and grabbing her arm, "Come on, get up!"
Emily, incensed at sarge grabbing Chou, makes a running dash at him. He effortlessly does an upwards back kick, sending Emily into a flip. He lets Chou go and turns around, punching into Emily's back at the apex. She flies through the room, embedding herself upside down and face first into the wall. She feels a huge amount of pain shoot through her as her shoulders dislocate and her nose breaks. She feels blood go through her eyes and into her hair as she hangs there.
"I like Butch here," Sarge starts, barely audible to Emily, "He has spunk and was willing to stand up for somebody else. However, you maggots should NOT think that this gives you the right to challenge me, lest you end up like him. Now, after only four maggots, I already have zero respect for all of you. Lets see what I think after forty."
Emily eventually slides out of the wall, hitting her head as she falls to the ground. She loses consciousness yet again.