The blue soldier trembled. The breeze was becoming too much. The wind was never something he could control. It would gently blow, chilling all in its path. Even he felt cold. The warm rays of the blond sun were no longer strong enough to pull through the relentless breeze. The blue eyed boy wanted to look up towards the sky, and ignore the inevitability. But he saw the green eyed girl quiver in the gust, like the gentle red rose petals that held desperately onto their green stem. The chilled soldier knew he could not let anything else fly away.
Jon drove his fist into Adam's stomach, pushing his body weight forward. The grey-haired Jon stood like a rock wall, his feet planted firmly. Adam pushed back, gritting his teeth, and raised his arm to strike Jon. The blow met square in Jon's face, breaking his guard. He fell backwards, but maintained his balance. Jon smiled.
The smiling combatant lunged forward, driving his knee into Adam's chest. Adam balance was lost, and his weight fell back onto his right leg. Pain shot like broken glass, and Adam fell to the ground.
"Now that was a dirty trick," exclaimed Clara, who was watching the sparring match from the sidelines. Clara had been there to cry out every time one of them took a particularly nasty blow. She seemed exhausted from the day's exercises, but was still intent on finding the result of the match between Jon and Adam.
"Well, I suppose there are no real rules against it," Leon mentioned as he then jumped to the side as a recruit was beaten into the ground by his teammate, "though, there aren't really any rules at all."
Jon grinned and put his arms up in triumph. He seemed to gloat after every match, his physical fighting skills did seem to be superior to anyone who matched him.
"Guess I win again! Don't worry though. You're really not bad for a cripple, and I don't go easy," Jon said with a grin. He then extended his arm towards Adam, and pulled him to his feet.
"I wouldn't have it any other way," Adam said as he smiled through his immense pain. Leon seemed to notice the discomfort hidden in Adam's face, and went to get Adam some water before he could deny the help. John and clara followed Leon to the sidelines to avoid the few remaining fighters.
The training exercises were getting more and more intense. This morning, the instructor simply brought them to the training field and told them to spar with each other. When asked the rules by a recruit, he seemed to hold back a grin as he simply walked away with his arms tucked tightly behind his back.
But, with these intensive exercises, they were all getting stronger. They had been working day after day, week after week, preparing for the day they would be called to defend mankind. Those who could not keep up had been lost to the stresses of the training, and were ordered to return to the pitiful state they had been in before enlisting. Many trainees had even died, falling from great heights or succumbing to the constant exhaustion. More had even been removed from the military, wounds both mental and physical had kept them from being a viable soldier.
Adam had kept careful care to not show the pain of his leg. In truth, it still posed an obstacle, but he had become more accustomed to it. The pain only truly happened when it was under great stress, so Adam had worked to keeping his weight off it in dangerous circumstances. It was supposed to heal even further with time, although there would always be a certain degree of damage.
Adam's leg did not stand in the way of his physical abilities. He was able to keep up with the others, and had even that day bested both Leon and Clara, as well as some recruits from the other groups. Points were not being recorded, but many still seemed to have something to prove. Those types often challenged Adam, because many knew of his previous injury and felt that this would be a significant enough advantage. Any amount of victory was often thought to be enough to garner at least some sort of respect from the fellow trainees. Those who saw Adam as an easy way to this status were most often wrong, and they wouldn't realize so until they met the dirt with a great amount of force.
Those who didn't challenge Adam went after Jon, at least early in the day. He wasn't the largest soldier-in-training there, in fact, he seemed thin and scrawny. His appearance gave many the courage and bravado needed to brawl. But, it turned out his massive appetite all went to his muscle, which was concealed beneath his uniform. Jon was fast as he was strong, and sent every single challenger flying away, both on their feet and through the air. He was like a stone wall, and stood up to every competitor that challenged him with great enthusiasm. By the end of the day, no one seemed to have any sort of false courage when Jon stood in front of them.
"Hah! Nobody in our entire unit, no -all of mankind- can knock me down!" Jon laughed as he stood in the middle of the field, his feet planted firmly. He taunted all the other recruits on the field, who kept a cautious distance from him. It seemed to Adam that he truly couldn't be knocked down by any human.
"C'mon! Someone has to be strong enough here! What happened to all the challengers? You all tired alr-"
Jon was knocked sideways as a red-haired combatant flew in from his flank. He maintained his balance, standing on his feet, but before he could even register the need for a defensive stance he was met with a second strike, and then a third. Jonathan Stein was knocked back again and again, by his lightning fast opponent. He threw his own fist outward in response, but met nothing but air. This retaliation was a mistake. The missed attack left him even more open, and the only thing he could think of after his realization that he had hit nothing but air was that the dirt smelled of sweat.
Jon had been crumbled to the ground by the red haired girl. She was the same one that had demonstrated the maneuvering gear the day Adam received his injury. This girl was truly talented, and had brought down the long standing Jonathan Stein in a matter of seconds. She didn't even break a sweat, and after dropping poor Jon, she walked away without a word.
Clara and Leon ran over to Jon, and Adam followed as best he could, still in a bit of pain. Jon was facedown on the ground, and covered in it. He had hit the floor so hard that it was kicked up, and he was covered in the gritty training field dirt.
"Wh… wha the hell jus happen' to me," Jon groaned as Leon pulled him up.
"You just got your ass handed to you by that instructor girl," Adam laughed.
Jon looked at him in confusion for a moment, then the events of the last 20 seconds finally registered.
"I thought you were the strongest person here," Clara teased.
"Well… I am," Jon grumbled.
"Alright, I think it's time we all head back to camp, and get some rest for today," Leon said.
Most of the recruits, primarily those that had been frustrated with fighting their fellow military trainees, had already left for dinner about a half an hour ago. The four trainees seemed to miss dinner more often than not, so they hurried back to camp.
Their injured friend had already recovered enough of his pride to begin digging into what was left for them back in the dining hall. He sat at the end of the table, a strategy the others had come up with to avoid the projectiles generated by his violent eating habits. They still sat at the same open table, with a clear view of the outside through the open window.
"Taste better than the dirt I assume," Leon laughed as Jon dug in. They all had received their daily rations, but Jon was definitely the most energetic about his eating habits, even as beaten and battered as he was. It wasn't that the others were not hungry, but bread and beet soup could only be enjoyed so many times consecutively. The next food shipment would not arrive for a few more days.
"You bet," Jon said between bites, "can't believe I lost to her."
"You really can't?" Adam asked.
"Well… I guess she's one of those elite people that stay away from most of the group. I didn't even see her when she hit me."
"I didn't see her at all that day," Clara said.
"I don't remember her sparring with anyone else, I didn't even see her until she made that first strike against you, Jon," Leon said as a breeze from the open window swept by him. As he closed the buttons on his military jacket, he knocked over his own bowl of soup. It left a bright red mark on his tan jacket, and he took out his handkerchief a vain attempt to remove the stain.
Adam had noticed the same thing about the red haired girl. She often wasn't there for the duration of the entire drill or exercise, but when she showed up, she certainly made an impact. It was clear she was cut out for Military Police, and was being groomed for it. Adam wasn't even sure if she was assigned to a training group, or even slept in the barracks with the rest of them.
"Hey, maybe she's off training by herself or something while the rest of us mess around with those stupid drills," Jon said.
"Must be sad being by yourself all the time," Clara said, glancing over at Adam.
"I think she chooses to be alone. She doesn't seem bothered by it at least," he replied.
"Maybe next time she'll stick around after stomping on me and show me a move or two if I ask her."
"She won't even want to touch you again if you've still got all that food on your face," Leon joked as he handed Jon a handkerchief. Adam and Clara laughed, as their food covered companion gave an embarrassed smile.
It was strange. Adam realized he hadn't laughed in a long time. It felt alien and unfamiliar, and almost irreverent. He felt guilty in a way, like he didn't have the right. But the smiles of his companions swept this feeling away, and he felt the warm rays of the setting sun pour through the window. He allowed the smile to remain on his face.
Leon had seated himself in front of the window, and the light seemed radiate from him. Leon always seemed to cheer the group up, and was almost always a positive voice in the forest of despondency they faced. He was there to hold them up when they fell down. Over the weeks Adam came to appreciate and even admire him in many ways. He could do what Adam could not.
They laughed and joked through the remainder of the meal. They talked of training, the food, the other groups of recruits. They talked of points and the Military Police, of the the branches they might join. They talked more of the red-haired girl, although Jon seemed soured to the topic. They talked until their food was cold and nearly gone, and the sun was almost completely gone behind the seemingly tiny wall on the horizon.
As they finished their meal, a recruit that served as the Officer's assistant walked in. He had a look of concern on his face, and addressed the entirety of the mess hall.
"Strange. We aren't due to report to the barracks until sundown," Clara whispered.
"It seems like something else. Like some sort of announcement," replied Adam.
"ATTENTION! We are all to report to the training field at once! Any who are not in attendance will face the harshest disciplinary consequence. You have 15 minutes to report."
Murmurs of concern traveled through the dining hall. The military thrived on discipline. The harshest punishment was not removal from the unit, but something even more dire. It could even mean execution in some cases. The friendly mood of the dining hall changed as the shouting recruit fidgeted nervously, moving toward the door.
"What could this be about?" Leon said, looking at Adam.
The beams of light that had enveloped him were dimming. Through the window, above the jade trees and the dark grey wall on the horizon, the sun was setting. The cool blue shade of sky that had become warmer with the sunset was darkening, and night was approaching fast. The last few rays of light left their warm touch on Adam and the group, and they were left in the dark. The breeze pushed through the window as a replacement. They all felt chilled by the relentless wind. It was beginning to pick up, and it would be a harsh night. Leon shivered through his jacket, his blond hair darkening in the shadows. The red mark on his jacket appeared crimson in the new shadows of the night.
"Hey-do you have any other info on what's going on?" Jon shouted at the trembling recruit who was rushing out the door. He turned around, and delivered a final message to all those in the mess hall.
"The Trost district is under attack. We are to report immediately to reinforce the vanguard, who have suffered heavy casualties."
The wind began to howl, no longer a breeze.