A/N: This is a fairly short and boring chapter, many apologies, but know that I am working up to something . . . I think. . . Anyways, later in the chapter they talk about a "kiyai". For those of you who have never studied martial arts (at least not in Japan) a kiyai is what you yell when you punch or kick. Each person has their own kiyai, for example, my friend, Scott, and I all yell "Ya!", while another person may yell "Sa!" or whatever. Enjoy!

"blah blah" is talking 'blah blah' is thinking *blah blah* is thought-speak

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Buzzing silence filled Scott's ears as he stood, prepared in stance, ready to fight. The room, it was filled with a deadly silence, and it was wearing Scott's patience thin. 'C'mon, c'mon!' he chanted rhythmically in his head, bouncing on the balls of his feet - the feet that were standing, bare, on the cold metal ground. Just as Scott was about to scream with annoyed apprehension, he heard it. The soft whir of the cushioned sandbag as it sped forward. 'Patience, patience, Scott,' he spoke to himself, preventing himself from leaving the ground too early. As the dim whir progressed into a muffled roar that only the most trained ears could detect, Scott pushed himself off the ground, accelerating into the air, spinning his foot with a deadly kick. "Ya!" he yelled as he smacked the bag with tremendous force, sending it spiraling backwards.

"Yes!" he pumped his fist in the air then dropped his body to the ground, the swinging sandbag narrowly missing his unprotected head. Jumping deftly to his feet, Scott sent a roundhouse kick to the face of the bag, followed by a series of furious punches.

*All right, Scott, that's enough for today,* the Professor projected into his mind, allowing the boy to sink to the Danger Room floor in exhaustion. Ever since he'd come to the Institute, Scott had been put through a series of rough, physical training in order to help enable him to fight without using sight. The Professor had been unable to create a way to contain Scott's optic blasts so far, though he was not without hope. But until then, the Professor was adamant that Scott learn to fight without using his vision.

Scott was grateful for the man's obstinacy, but even more so for his generous hospitality. When Scott first arrived, Xavier had led him to a bedroom, bigger than any he could ever remember having, and had directed Scott to the bathroom where he was allowed to take his first shower since living on the streets. After he had felt the indescribable bliss of being clean, Ororo had peeled the grimy bandage off his eyes, gently scrubbed his face clean, and had replaced it with a new, uncontaminated bandage. They had then had Scott measured for some "typical teenage guy clothes" and afterwards he was allowed supper and to retire to his room. Scott couldn't remember a time when he had felt such treatment! Throughout dinner the Professor had explained the intense training he would undergo and had revealed to Scott his plans on filling the Institute with more "gifted children."

Since that first night at the mansion, Scott had grown accustomed to its occupants and their many ways. He knew never to sneak up on Logan, never to disturb Ororo when she was tending her garden, and never to bother the Professor while working on Cerebro. In short, Scott was beginning to feel more and more at home at the Institute. Though he still never let his guard down, let he be taken by surprise, he was discovering it harder and harder to find reasons to keep his guard up. Ororo was nothing but kind to him and though Professor Xavier pushed him, he was never anything but supportive of Scott and his accomplishment. Logan was the only one who was ever short or gruff with Scott, but that was just the man's nature. At times, Scott even preferred Logan's coolness to the others' bubbling benevolence.

Dragging himself to his bedroom, Scott collapsed exhaustedly on his bed. The bandage was heavy against his closed eyes. How he wished he could take it off, just for a minute! To be allowed to see for a few brief moments! But Scott was uncertain if he would ever be given that luxury again. Forcing his mind away from his hopefully temporary blindness, Scott went over what Logan had taught him that morning. "Don't forget you're kiyai when you punch or kick," Logan had said, "it may seem silly, but it helps to push you harder, to put more of an emphasis on the impact." And then he had demonstrated a kick with and without the kiyai and insisted Scott do the same. Lazily recalling the afternoon's training, Scott drifted off thinking about how much he would love to kiyai while sending a particularly strong blow to Logan's face . . .

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