Rebirth

Chapter 4: Lang

He woke up as soon as he was able to fall asleep. The morning had sneaked up on him and he groaned when the bright yellow sun showed its happy face. To think, he had almost given his very life just to see such a sun again. Now he just wanted to get rid of it. Lately, the sun had been interrupting his sleep without fail.

"Get up, sleepyhead!" Nancy shouted through his locked door, "It's already getting late as it is."

And then there was Nancy, always so bright and early with her shrill voice.

"Everyday, Nancy, you remind me of the same thing. Don't you think I know what time to get up by now?" Lang shouted back through the door.

"Then get up on time," Nancy yelled back.

Lang heard as she stumped off in the direction of the kitchen and then laid back onto his bed. He just felt so tired and worn out—if only the night could be longer. If only he could sleep for a few more hours. He allowed his eyelids to fall again until he was in his blissful world of half sleep and daydreams. When there was another knock on the door, Lang had no idea how much time had passed, but the sun was a little higher in the sky.

"Hey, Captain, you planning on getting up anytime soon?"

"Dein, tell the others I'll be there in a few."

"Will you?" Dein asked with contempt.

"Well, looks like you'll just have to wait and see."

"Hmph," Dein grumbled and then he left Lang to his own devices.

Lang supposed that he probably should get out of bed. He was supposed to be setting an example for everyone else. What example was he setting now?—A captain that couldn't even get out of bed? Despite his body's protest, he finally stood up determined that he should at least go out and greet his fellow Vigilance Corps members.

Nancy was the first to look up when she heard his footsteps. Hawke was sitting at the table eating some food that Nancy had probably just served him.

"What are we going to do with you?" Nancy said shaking her head, "The boys are outside already."

"Alright then," Lang responded in a voice that belied his complete tiredness.

"Wait, aren't you going to eat something?"

"Haven't I kept them waiting long enough?"

"And skipping breakfast, Lang, you—

"I'll be fine," Lang said followed by a yawn. "I'll be back soon enough."

Nancy watched as he left through the front door and then shook her head. He was acting so different these days. Perhaps it was because he was older now, a full grown man, but Nancy couldn't just leave it at that explanation. His appearance had changed as well. He had grown his hair out somewhat and his eyes, there was something different about them; a red glint in his eyes. But now she noticed something else; he always seemed tired as if he was always low on energy. It wasn't until today that he had slept in long enough to miss breakfast entirely.

"You're worried about him," Hawke stated, though it probably should have been a question.

"Hawke, I'm always worried about him."

/

"Nice of you to join, Captain," Dein said at once upon seeing him.

"Aw, Dein, you always make the mornings especially bright."

"I'm sure, Captain."

"Sorry for my lateness and you guys are probably tired of hearing my excuses so I won't make any. Now let's continue out training."

Lang took out his sword and so did the other three. Dein always looked at Lang's sword in envy. Its blade was dark and glistened with well-polished, expensive metal. The intricate design engraved on the thick, smooth metal made the weapon look more like a ceremonial one. Dein knew first hand that this wasn't the case. The razor sharp edge could make quick business with even the most fearsome beasts in the Hunter's Wood. The tip of the blade was sharp enough to cut beef jerky into a fine dust.

The other two—Marcus and Boerto—loved to see Lang in action and grudgingly so did Dein. His movement was always so crisp and precise—everything he did with his sword better known as Judgment Day, was artful and smooth. Whenever the other two could convince him, he would show them a snippet of his more serious moves. Lang's Devine Bolt was etched permanently in Dein's mind, though he found the move far too powerful for him to emulate.

To be sure, the other members did have quality swords, but in comparison to Lang's "Judgment Day", theirs seemed like play toys.

Lang told them what their training today would entail—a series of swift blade strokes, far more intense than Galvan's training—and then demonstrated exactly what he wanted them to do. Of course, he made the strokes seem deceptively simple, but they weren't and they soon found this out. Lang took a step back and watched from afar.

"Man, this is so stupid!" Dein complained.

"Trust me, you'll thank me in the end. These strokes when done together in succession with both speed and strength create a rather lethal normal art called Battle Flash. It's even more effective than Sandstorm and uses much less energy."

"Is that so?"

"Well if it wasn't then I wouldn't have said it. You're lagging, Dein. Your friends are near finished with their reps."

Dein glared at the other, but Lang seemed completely unaffected. Lang let out another yawn and crossed his arms in a stance that suggested boredom. Not that Lang was actually bored, but he did wish that the day would end and that he'd have some excuse to crawl into bed again. That was too much to ask for.

Lang interrupted their practice midway through and showed them again how to do it, then he set them again on the same exercise except he had instructed them to emphasize on strength.

Today was going to be a long day. He yawned again and resumed his previous stance.