Her first week in SOLDIER almost killed her.
Lightning was used to physical exercise. But this was beyond her.
Getting up at the break of dawn to receive her daily SOLDIER basics training consisting of the most damanding drills Claire Farron had ever heard of, countless rounds on the running track and infinite lenghts in the natatorium as well as basic combat techniques and strenght training, she barely made it through the day alive and tumbled to her bed late, passing out the second her body hit the sheets, just to wake up from the morning trumpets seemingly seconds after, feeling worse even than the night before.
It was a vicious circle, swallowing her whole.
And if that wasn't enough there were also the taunts. The disapproving stares of her comrades, her instructors. The catcalls. The whistles. The laughter. The rude messages on her locker in the training room telling her to go home, to work in the kitchens, or well... Worse.
Being the only female in SOLDIER, so far it hadn't worked out to her advantage.
Her fellow third classes made fun of her. Looked down on her. Singled her out. And so did her superiors. Noone seemed to be happy to welcome a woman in their ranks.
It tore at her. Ate away at her. Was killing her. In a slow and painful way.
She would have quit right then. She really wanted to. But she couldn´t. She was there for a reason after all and that reason was not herself. She wasn´t responsible for herself alone anymore. She was there on a mission. She was there for Serah. And for Serah she needed to be strong, for Serah she needed to carry on.
It was strange how from just being her annoying little sister, Serah had graduated to her reason to live.
Without her Lightning would have just given up.
Just like that.
So, yes. The first week was bad. There was no denying that. But then Sunday arrived. And Sunday was different. Sunday was worse.
There was no SOLDIER basics training on Sunday. It was the third class SOLDIER´s day off. Was their opportuity to get to rest their strained muscles and mend their cuts and bruises.
Every third class SOLDIER except her, that was.
While all the others lounged around the recreation area or the commons, Lightning had the privilege to finally take her first private lesson with her new sensei Sephiroth.
It wasn't something she looked forward to. Not at all. In her state, everything, just the tiniest bit of exercise, just the tiniest movement of her arms really, of every single one of her toes was exhausting and painful, put short: torture, and she somehow had the nauseating feeling that the General wasn´t going to go easy on her.
No, it wasn´t in his nature to go easy on anyone.
She wasn´t sure how she did it, but somehow she managed to heave herself out of bed.
Her tormented muscles complaining painfully, for a few minutes Lightning just sat on the edge of her small bunk, staring at the opposite wall, waiting for Etro to send her the strenght she needed to keep going, waited for the pain in every cell of her body to just miraculously pass.
None of those things seemed to happen.
Oh, what had she gotten hersef into? What had she been thinking? She had been delusional to think that she could make this.
Thoughts of regret and of worry and fear cursing through her mind and her muscles aching with every tiny movement, Lightning felt hot tears stinging her eyes for what felt like the millionth time since she had moved into the spacy sterile room.
Giving a defeated sigh she finally managed to pull herself together, managed to finally get up and dress. She made it to the bathroom next, her eyes immediately darting to the tiny photograph she had pinned to the mirror the night after her arrival and it was pensively that her eyes took in Serah´s kind and cheery face smiling back at her.
I can do this, Serah.
Serah...
Her reason to carry on.
Her reason to live.
'Attack me.' The General´s voice was serious, commanding.
'Huh?!'
'Take a weapon of your choice and attack me.'
They were in the SOLDIER training room. The silver haired legend was standing just a few meters away from her, clad in his black leather uniform as usual, his posture as intimidating as ever as he towered over her, mako green eyes burning into her own and somehow Lightning found it hard to concentrate.
Something about that man´s presence was just unnerving, was somehow keeping her tortured mind from thinking straight.
The man in question, he kept staring at her expectantly, demanding even, and she couldn´t help but feel like a child, being pushed around by an abusive superior.
Well.
He was her superior, that much was for sure.
But still she couldn´t help but think she didn´t like the way he treated her or seemed to treat peope in general. Like he truly were a superior being. The others only insects, crawling at his feet. Not even worth the honour of being crushed by him.
At least that was what she felt like, looking up into those haughty features.
Her mind still rebellious, it was as if on it´s own, that her body obediently carried her over to the right wall where a large number of weapons lay displayed, waiting to be used.
Take a weapon of your choice, he had said.
Lightning took her time, studying them carefully, while trying to figure out which one might give her an advantage in the upcoming challenge.
After a few minutes she decided on a plain simple training katana.
It´s black grip was already worn from use, but it´s blade was still sharp, deadly, ready to cut it´s opponent into halves without effort should the need arise.
She thought it was a good choice. She really did. She had used similar weapons before back at home where she had used to spar with her friends from the neighbourhood watch.
She knew how to use it. Or at least so she thought.
And it was with her mind traveling back to the place she'd used to call home for all her life, back to her people, back to Serah and her parents and their old beach house in Bodhum, that her fingers absentmindedly traced the edge of her chosen weapon´s blade.
It was briefly that she wondered what Serah was doing at that very moment, but she swiftly brushed those thoughts away and turned back to face her sensei presenting the katana, her eyes shily asking his opinion.
An arrogant smirk instantly formed there on those superior features and Lightning wanted nothing but to cut it off with the blade of her new aquired sword.
'Show me what you can do then.' her instructor said, his voice smug and the pink haired third class couldn´t help but feel a bubbling hate errupting somewhere in the pit of her stomach.
Oh yes, she hated him.
She couldn´t tell why.
But in this moment she hated him.
Hated everything about him.
Despite the generous chance he´d given her by taking her on as his apprentice.
Or maybe because.
Maybe because she knew she was stuck with him now for good, with this conceited prick of a man.
Oh yeah, he probably thought she was no good with a sword. Probably thought that being a girl she had wasted her days with cooking and sewing. Oh, she couldn´t wait to show him what she could do. Couldn´t wait to see his face once he found out what she was capable of!
It was without hesitation that Claire Farron let her anger take control of her actions. Without hesitation or a second thought that she charged at him, ready to hurt him, ready to kill.
The silver haired General didn´t even bother to take out his weapon.
Instead of blocking her with some kind of sword hidden by the layers of his coat as she had expected him to try, he chose to just sidestep her. And he did so easily. Like it were child´s play.
It drove the pink haired third class furious.
Again and again she attempted to attack him, but no matter how hard she tried, no matter how fast, how fierce her strokes, she got nowhere even remotely close to even scratching the hem of his coat.
It took several futile attempts before finally she stopped in frustration.
She hadn´t gotten even close to landing a single hit.
Impossible...
'Is that the best you can do?' The General asked in a low but mocking tone.
It made Lightning's anger flare up anew.
She couldn´t control her temper. Didn't even think to try.
In this moment she just hated that arrogant bastard.
And channelling all her frustration, the exasperation and the pain of the past week, she projected it onto the annoying First Class right infront of her.
It happened fast.
Before she even knew what she was doing she had tossed the katana to the floor.
Opting to attack him with her bare hands instead she threw herself at him, her fingers ready to claw at that pale marble skin, nails ready to scratch out those mean green mako eyes, fists lashing out everywhere.
The man in the black uniform just dodged her as if she were moving in slow motion. His hands folded behind his back, he didn't even bother to bring them up in case he needed to defend himself.
It took Claire Farron several minutes to exhaust herself. But in the end, again, she hadn´t landed a single hit.
The silver haired first class did not seem impressed in the slightest.
He even had the audacity to laugh at her.
Well... To an outsider it must have looked hilarious.
The way he'd managed to evade her every move...
But for Lightning it was just humiliating, it was torture.
The pink haired female panting heavily, her already overwrought muscles complaining painfully, she finally stopped to sink to her knees.
She couldn´t go on any longer.
She just couldn´t.
There was nothing left in her. No anger and no strenght.
'Look at you. I´ve brought you to your knees without even using my hands.' the General taunted.
Lightning barely heard him.
She was too occupied with her attempts at catching her breath.
'Get up.' the deep intimidating voice commanded.
But no matter how much she might have wanted to follow his order, the pink haired third class, she couldn´t find the strenght inside her to comply. Instead she just sat there, all heaving chests and trembling limbs, her gaze fixed on the cold grey tiled floor as she fought hard to regain her composure.
'I said get up!' His voice again, deadly calm.
It was only a second later that he stood right next to her.
His leather gloved hand closing around her upper arm like a vice, he roughly pulled her up to her feet.
Claire Farron couldn´t keep a painful gasp from escaping her pink chapped lips.
The silver haired General clasping her arm so tightly that it would no doubt leave a terrible bruise, it was as suddenly as he had grabbed her that he let go of her again. The poor pink haired female stumbled, almost crashed back to the floor.
Looking up into her sensei´s features, she found his expression calm and calculated.
It were his mako eyes that she caught laughing at her.
'You are pathetic.' her sensei teased.
Somewhere inside of her, Lightning felt the urge to cry. But never in a thousand years would she have allowed that bastard to see how much he got to her. Never would she have given him the satisfaction of witnessing her tears. Even if her life depended on it.
It was unfair. True. He was being unfair.
She couldn´t have stood a chance against him even if she had attacked with all the training weapons simultaneously.
And she needed a break.
She so desperately needed a break.
A break to rest and to heal. Physically as well as mentally.
But she knew she wouldn´t be granted any.
It was gritting her teeth and without saying a single word that as if in a daze she staggered over to the display of weapons again.
With her back shielding her actions from her sensei´s view, Claire Farron collected an already loaded gun and made to unlock the safety.
She didn´t stop to think about the consequences.
She actually didn´t think at all.
It was as if the rational part of her brain was set out of action and a cold cruel power of vengefulness had taken control.
Claire Farron didn´t hesitate a single moment before swiftly turning around and aiming directly at her brand new sensei, she repeatedly pulled the trigger until no bullets remained.
She hadn´t seen how he had done it.
And she definitely could not explain.
General Sephiroth Crescent should have been a dead man.
His neat and shiny leather coat should have been shredded and the man himself should have been writhing on the ground drowning in a puddle of his own blood.
But somehow, none of it had happened.
In what had to have been the tiniest fraction of a second, the silver haired first class had conjured a huge katana of immense lenght out of thin air and as fast as lightning (pun intended) he had deflected the projectiles with it´s shiny blade, not even one of them singeing his black leather coat.
Claire Farron couldn´t help but stare.
What the fuck had just happened?
Where had that katana come from?
Where had he been carrying it?
She could have sworn she´d seen no sword on him.
And that thing... Well it wasn´t exactly easy to hide.
And then...
Those bullets...
Wow...
Completely lost for words, her brain not even remotely able to process what she had just witnessed, she only watched completely perplexed as her sensei stood there, slowly lowering his extremely long katana, one silver eyebrow arched at her.
His mako green eyes never leaving her own, the pink haired female found a scary predatory glint in them.
'We´ve got a lot of work to do.' the silver haired man stated nonchalantly before turning around on the spot, he left without wasting a word of goodbye, his enormous sword vanishing with just a swift motion of his gloved left hand.
Abandoned in the vast emptiness of the training room, Claire Farron bent down to pick up the useless projectiles, which, upon closer inspection she realized, were all neatly cut in halves.
