The first morning in training, Four and Eric start the transfers on physical conditioning and hand-to-hand combat techniques. The work is exhausting. Tris was never allowed to run in Abnegation, so her cardio conditioning is weak. The extent of her physical stamina is what she could get from her volunteer work with the factionless. However, Abnegation generally keeps the girls from doing too much of the heavy lifting, and a lifetime of minimal rations hasn't helped either. Tris is small, weak, and struggling.
It doesn't help that both of her trainers avoid her at all costs. As Eric and Four circulate around the room, they give out pointers to each initiate, but barely acknowledge Tris. They hardly even look at her, unless one of them gets close to her, then the other watches intently. They're territorial, yet standoffish, and it makes Tris crazy. She knows she's small and inexperienced in fighting. But she wants this as much, if not more, than anyone in her group. And it would help if her trainers would actually train her.
After lunch, Eric doesn't return to the training room with the group. Four gathers them together and explains the schedule. The first part will be physical training. That lasts the longest, and will include lessons on weapons maintenance, shooting, throwing knives, hand-to-hand combat, and general physical conditioning. At the end of the first phase, the bottom four initiates will be cut and made factionless.
The second part of training is emotional. Four doesn't really describe what that entails, but he calls it "fear training," and explains that they'll be training alongside the Dauntless-born initiates, but still living separately.
The third part of training is mental. It revolves around the final exam, when everything they learn is put to the test in what Four calls their "fear landscape." Tris thinks that sounds like the title of a bad horror movie.
"We believe that preparation eradicates cowardice, which we define as the failure to act in the midst of fear," Four explains. "Therefore each stage of initiation is intended to prepare you in a different way."
With the announcements complete, the initiates go back to work on the punching bags.
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xxxx
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Training day two starts with another run, then Eric gives a brief lecture on weapons, including the types of weapons Dauntless uses and how to maintain them in proper order. He also gives the initiates some basic safety instruction before taking them into the range and passing out handguns.
Tris thinks that Eric sounds like an Erudite the way he goes through each detail of what a gun does and how to take care of it so it will keep working properly. By lunchtime each initiate can disassemble, clean, and reassemble their weapon without help. Eric tells them that they will practice this daily, and with different types of guns, until they can do it in their sleep.
It's a relief to Tris to be taking a break from the punching bags. Her arms are so sore from yesterday's training that they shake when she tries to lift them. Working with the gun is more mental than physical, and she does a reasonably good job keeping up with her classmates.
The Erudite boy, Edward, is a natural. Will tells Tris and Christina that Edward has always wanted to transfer to Dauntless, so he's been studying up on fighting and weapons since they were young.
"What about Myra?" Christina asks, referring to Edward's girlfriend.
"They're soulmates," Will says, unconsciously putting a hand on his ribs where his own soulmark hides beneath his shirt. "They found each other just a few months ago. He was set on Dauntless, so she transferred with him."
"Less talking, more loading!" Four yells, and the friends quiet as they resume loading bullets into magazines.
After lunch, Four brings the initiates back to the firing range, again without Eric. He instructs each student to take a station facing a wall of targets. Tris sets her gun on the table, careful to aim the barrel toward the bullseyes and not into the room of people. At the far end of the line, Peter, the smug, dark-haired former Candor, twirls the gun in his hands. Suddenly, Four grabs it from Peter's hand and flips it around, pressing the barrel to Peter's forehead, and clicks a bullet into place.
"Wake. Up," Four snaps. "You are holding a loaded gun, you idiot. Act like it."
Addressing the entire class, Four says simply, "Watch me."
He faces the wall with the targets on it—one square of plywood with three red circles for each initiate. He stands with his feet apart, holds the gun in both hands, and fires. The bang is so loud and sharp that Tris can feel the concussion in her teeth. It leaves a hole right through the middle circle.
"Take your position," Four barks, and the initiates step up to their stations.
"Weapons ready," he calls. Tris lifts her gun, emulating the stance Four took when he demonstrated. She hears clicking, and it reminds her to switch off the safety. The initiates cock their weapons to load bullets into position, and wait for the next direction.
"Aim!" Four yells. Tris looks down the barrel of her gun, lining up the front and back sites with one another and with the target.
"Fire!" Four yells, and the room is filled with the explosive sound of nine handguns firing simultaneously.
Tris is knocked back by the gun's recoil, but manages not to fall over. She looks at her target and sees no bullet hole.
"Again!" Four yells. "Weapons ready!" Tris takes her stance again, not needing to prepare the gun as the safety is still off and the gun cocks itself after the first shot.
"Aim," Four calls. Tris can feel her arms shaking in anticipation as the adjusts her sites and braces herself for the recoil.
"Fire!" Tris pulls the trigger, keeping her body tighter this time. The bullet hits the target, but low and to the right.
"You're squeezing the gun too tight," says a firm voice behind Tris. She startles, but manages to not do anything stupid like turning around with the gun or squeezing the trigger.
"Do it again," Four says. Tris obeys, focusing on relaxing her grip a little. The next shot is also to the right, but this time it's high, too.
"You're anticipating the recoil too much," Four says blandly.
"What?" Tris asks. "How do I… not?"
"Practice," Four says. "You'll get used to it."
"Fire at will," the instructor calls, and the sounds of gunfire fill the room.
By the time dinner rolls around, Tris and the other initiates have improved. Some of them are hitting the bullseye pretty consistently, while others are more scattered. All of them are tired, and their ears are ringing.
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xxxx
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On the third morning, the initiates work at the punching bags after going for a run. Both instructors are with them again, and they're back to completely ignoring Tris and glaring at one another.
When Four stops in front of Tris just before lunchtime, her insides twist like someone's stirring them with a fork. "You don't have much muscle," he says flatly, "which means you're better off using your knees and elbows. You can put more power behind them." Suddenly he presses a hand to Tris' stomach. "Don't forget to keep tension here," he says before he walks away.
Tris glances up and catches Eric glaring at the other trainer.
After lunch, Eric returns with Four and the initiates. This surprises Tris as he has left them to Four on the other days they've been training. As Four teaches the class about knife throwing, Eric hovers in the background. Tris feels his eyes on her, and she's confused by the way it makes her feel hot all over. She simultaneously craves and fears the young leader's attention.
Making things even more confusing, she feels the same way about Four. When he put his hands on her in training earlier, her stomach did flips. She feels an inexplicable comfort in his presence, even though he has been far from warm toward her. She schools herself to pay attention to Four's instruction.
"Today, you'll be learning how to aim," the trainer says. "Everyone pick up three knives, and pay attention"
At first no one moves. "Now!" Eric yells.
The initiates scramble for daggers. They aren't as heavy as guns, but they still feel strange. Tris watches Four's arm as he throws a knife. The next time he throws, she watches his stance. He hits the target each time, exhaling as he releases the knife.
"Line up!" Eric orders.
Tris spends the first few minutes practicing without a knife, finding the right stance, learning the right arm motion.
"Hey, Stiff!" Peter jeers a few stations from Tris. "Remember what a knife is?"
Ignoring him, she practices the throw again with a knife. When she throws the knife. It spins end over end, slamming into the board. The blade doesn't stick, but she's the first person to hit the target. Peter misses again, and Tris can't help herself. "Hey, Peter," she says. "Remember what a target is?"
A half hour later, Al is the only one who hasn't yet hit the target. His knives clatter to the floor. The next time he tries and misses, Eric marches toward him and demands, "How slow are you, Candor? Do you need glasses? Should I move the target closer to you?"
Al's face turns red. He throws another knife, and it spins and hits the wall. "What was that, initiate?" says Eric quietly, leaning closer to Al.
"It—it slipped," says Al.
"Well, I think you should go get it," Eric says. He scans the other initiates' faces—everyone has stopped throwing again—and yells, "Did I tell you to stop?" Knives start to hit the boards.
"Go get it?" Al's eyes are wide. "But everyone's still throwing."
"And?" Eric snarls. "I think you can trust your fellow initiates to aim better than you. Go get your knife."
"No," Al says, defending himself for possibly the first time in his life.
"Why not?" Eric's grey eyes fix on Al's face. "Are you afraid?"
"Of getting stabbed by an airborne knife?" says Al. "Yes, I am!" Honesty is his mistake. It makes him look like a coward, and that's the one thing Dauntless can't stand.
"Everyone stop!" Eric shouts. "Clear out of the ring." Eric looks at Al. "All except you. You stand in front of the target." Al's hands shake as he walks back to the target.
"Hey, Four." Eric looks over his shoulder. "Give me a hand here, huh?" Four scratches one of his eyebrows with a knife point and approaches Eric.
"You're going to stand there as he throws those knives," Eric says to Al, "until you learn not to flinch."
"Is this really necessary?" says Four. He sounds bored, but he doesn't look bored. For a moment Eric and Four just stare at each other in tense silence.
"Stop it." Tris yells, unable to stop the words that burst from her mouth. Four turns the knife in his hand, and gives her a disapproving look. "Any idiot can stand in front of a target," she says. "It doesn't prove anything except that you're bullying us. Which, as I recall, is a sign of cowardice."
"Then it should be easy for you," Eric says, "if you're willing to take his place."
Tris knows she can't back down now. She walks toward Al, and he nods at her, his eyes full of pitiful gratitude.
"If you flinch," Four says pointedly, "Al takes your place. Understand?" Tris nods, her gaze steely and determined.
Four pulls his elbow back, and throws the knife, burying it in the board near Tris' cheek. "Are you done, Stiff?" he asks. Tris grits her teeth and shakes her head. "Eyes open, then." He taps the spot between his eyebrows.
He passes a knife from his left hand to his right hand, and suddenly whips it Toward Tris, planting the blade just above her scalp.
"Come on, Stiff," he says. "Let someone else stand there and take it."
"Shut up, Four!" Tris says through gritted teeth.
He pulls his arm back and lets the knife fly. It comes straight at Tris, whose body goes rigid. This time, when it hits the board, her hand flies up to touch her ear. Her fingers come away bloody.
Eric glares at Four, then at Tris. As his gaze bounces back and forth he looks both angry and concerned. "I would love to stay and see if the rest of you are as daring as she is," says Eric, "but I think that's enough for today."
With that he spins on his heel and abruptly leaves the training room.
"Al, put the knives away," Four barks. "The rest of you get out of here."
The initiates bolt from the training room, eager to escape the tension-filled room. Tris leaves too, but more slowly. She's in no hurry to rehash the incident or listen to Christina's overly dramatic opinion about it.
"How's the ear?" rumbles a deep voice.
Tris jolts out of her reverie and stares at Eric, who appears to have been waiting for her in a hallway alcove. "It's fine," she says shortly, feigning bravery and nonchalance she doesn't feel.
The intimidating leader steps close, and Tris freezes as he examines the small cut. His hand slides from her ear down her cheek and the side of her neck before stopping on her shoulder. Tris shivers at the intimate contact.
"You're right," Eric growls. "It's fine."
Just as suddenly as Eric had appeared, he's gone.