I'll admit, this one was pretty fun to write. Well, so far, who are your What If ships? Best fights or rivalries? Leave it in a review or PM - I'm feeling curious! Anyway, I hope you enjoy the chapter!

Tuvia:

"Tuvia and Shmuel." Tris announces the final pair for our Hand-To-Hand Combat face-offs of the day, making my heart thud with a sickening excitement.

When I stand for my turn to fight, I fail to suppress the urge to cast Shmuel a sadistic, bloodthirsty, menacing grin. Of all people - my enemy! And he can't even beat me! I think, stepping up to the mat. Because he's injured. The smile melts from my face. Because I nearly killed him. What's wrong with m-

My guilty thoughts are interrupted by a fist lunging into my stomach. Shmuel's face is constantly contorted into a look of pain, whether mild or excruciating, but he seems to have healed enough to throw a punch hard enough to knock the wind out of me. I glare at him as I drive a swift roundhouse kick to his left shoulder. He briefly rubs his shoulder and, in that moment, I see an opportunity to strike a winning hit.

I throw myself forward, grabbing his shoulders. A murderous sound escapes my throat as we go down, but Shmuel twists slightly before our scuffle hits the ground, so he has control of the fight. He plants his feet on the ground to the right of my body, jabs his elbow into my stomach, presses all of his weight into the area, and holds the position. I feel like every organ in my body is being reshaped, compressed, and rearranged.

"Why do you bother, Gutman?" Shmuel murmurs. I try to answer I don't have to - outranking you is effortless, but my pained stomach prevents my almost witty reply from being spoken. Instead, with a pained grunt, I swing my knee up into his bicep.

When I hit his arm, I knock his elbow out from under him. Shmuel falls onto my stomach, giving me a chance to regain control. In a single fluid motion, I sit up, then fall forward, so I have the upper hand, and he is laying on the ground, his lower legs forced underneath his thighs. His hands rest by his sides, underneath my knees. Channeling everything in my past - the times he embarrassed me, angered me, teased me, took away my best friend, Ioni, and turned him into a total jerk - I bring back my left fist and punch him in his ugly, stupid mug. Shmuel yells in pain, his hand automatically reaching up to his chin. Blood leaks from the corner of his mouth.

I really hope I don't kill him, I think for a moment. Not that I care, of course. This jerk deserves everything I'm giving him, and more - so much so that I strongly consider swiping my finger across the growing line of blood, then licking my finger, just for the violent effect.

I smirk at him, ready to give another punch, but he just sneers at me. "Not today, Tutu." He lunges upward and slams his head into my stomach. The wind is knocked out of me, giving him a moment's window to turn the tables. He sits up on his knees, so we are both sitting, but I grab a handful of his hair and twist. He groans in pain, grasping my neck.

I release his head and take hold of his shoulders. Rising slightly, I hit his stomach with my knee as hard as I can, right where his not-quite-healed wound is. Retching, he doubles over, weakly leaning on all fours. "You...Idiot..." He growls. "Your two girlfriends - the crazy one, and the weakling - are going to break up with you now."

Adrenaline surges through my veins, along with the painful feeling of fury, so familiar the rush gives me pleasure. "They're not...my...girlfriends!" I whisper. Then, letting out a savage shriek, I leap forward, onto his back. With my weight putting strain on his back, his arms and legs give out beneath him. He lies on his stomach on the sweaty, smelly mat, struggling to upright himself. After a few seconds, his pushing grows weaker, so I stand up. I plant one foot on his back, holding him down, until Four marks down my victory.

When I see my success - and Shmuel's failure - documented, I release the boy reluctantly and return to the small mass of Initiates, my chest heaving from heavy, exhausted breathing, and from pure anger. In line, Sivan puts a gloved hand on my shoulder. "Good job, Tuvia!" She gives me a goofy smile, then whispers, "Now calm down, you look psychotic."

I hold my breath for a few seconds in an attempt to bring my face back to non-killer mode, but I'm not sure if that completely worked. When I finally resume breathing, I grin. "That fight felt...so good."

"QUIET!" Eric's voice rings out. We silence ourselves as he opens his mouth. "In a few days, you might be revealed as the weak link in Dauntless Initiation," He flashes a dark smile. "And we only take strong chains. Now, if you ask me, you're all wimps who deserve to be thrown into a burning pit full of live-"

Tris interrupts Eric's potentially - most likely - gruesome speech. "What Eric means is, now it's time for lunch."

*Pagebreakpagebreakpagebreakpleasepretendthisisali ne*

In the crowded cafeteria, Lele, Sivan, and I stand, trays in hand, looking for an empty table. The Dauntless Born kids who were on my Capture the Flag team glare at me as they walk past, turn up their noses, or mutter obscenities at me.

"Well," Lele huffs. "You'd think people could get over a little game."

Sivan nods. "Don't worry, Tuvia. They're going to find out how awesome you are, soon."

I shrug, leading my friends over to a table. Sivan wolfs down her taco, but Lele just stares down at her tray. When Sivan is halfway through the taco, she sets it down, wipes a bit of taco sauce from the corner of her mouth, and notices Lele. With a concerned look on her face, she asks, "Le', are you feeling alright?"

Lele sighs quietly. "I'm...I'm okay..."

Sivan doesn't buy into that, and neither do I. "Le', I know when something's wrong," Sivan leans her chin on her hand, resting her elbow on the table. "Now, penny for your thoughts?"

Lele gives her a sad smile. "Is that penny promised? I'll quote you on that."

Sivan lifts an eyebrow. "You're not answering my question."

"It's just...I, well, I think I'm not going to be ranked high enough in Initiation," Lele says quickly.

I tousle her blond hair gently. "Hey, it'll be okay. You'll get through - and, if not, I'm sure you'll be okay." I take a deep breath, and continue. "I'm not sure if I'll automatically go down in ranking for stabbing Shmuel."

Sivan's eyes widen which, honestly, makes her look adorable. "Why would they do that to you?"

"Lack of control?" I guess.

Sivan thinks for a moment, then comes up with an idea. "Tuvia - what if they took that as a sign of ferocity, which they just need to teach you to channel into places where it's welcomed?"

I let out a burst of air from between my lips, sounding like a helicopter. "I don't know, guys. We'll have to find out in a few days."

Lele looks concerned. "Sivan? Tuvia?"

We look at her, curious. "We're best friends, right?" She asks.

Sivan and I nod vigorously. "You can bet your Dauntless cake on that, Lele," Sivan assures her.

Lele smiles a bit. "Even if one of us ends up Factionless, and we never see each other again?"

This question is tough to answer. Not because of any doubt that we'll be friends, but because I don't want to think about that right now. With a bit of effort, I tell her, "Even then. We'll always be connected."

"Three Musketeers!" Sivan laughs, raising her hand to high-five me.

"Yeah," I murmur as I hear my hand slap against the latex. My heart does backflips in my sternum. "Forever."

Thanks for reading! Ta-Ta for now, my fellow Divergent fans!