Chapter 31 : Tempus Fugit - Stone-Cold

I sit with my eyes closed, my breath regular and even, my hands spread apart in front of me, as a single ball bearing does a simple figure eight between them.

In my mind's eye, it's flight is a little wobbly, slow-ish, and far from perfect.

Compared to one month and half ago?

This is a tremendous amount of progress.

Especially when you consider that I'm essentially multi-tasking while doing this: one part of my mind keeps The Voices at bay as much as I can, while the other focuses on my growing prowess with my telekinesis.

And it's definitely getting easier and easier, the ultimate proof being that it both becomes easier to put The Whispers under a lid and it becomes less necessary as I progress.

Which is very good news, because I was afraid to have to do that kind of mental gymnastics in combat.

Under those parameters, though?

Training my TK just became my best way to train my focus, period.

After all, who never fantasized about going all Jedi on someone?

Hell, I even already had a sword to go with it!

…Well, considering my propensity to use negative emotions to throw bio-lightning around , I'd be more of a Sith, if we keep going down that particular rabbit hole, but still!

Honestly, I'd trade the Warp for the Force in a heartbeat, even with all the similarities shared between those two in this local uni/multiverse.

Alas, I'll have to make do with what I have and game the shit out of my ressources until I'm basically untouchable and everybody shits their pants at the mere idea of fighting me.

I take a deep breath, my focus sharpening a tiny little bit further-

-next to me, another ball bearing, slowly, wobblily, rises up under the influence of my mind on the Materium.

I exhale deeply, as it slowly, oh so slowly, comes ever closer to my spread out hands-

-until something clicks, for lack of a better word, and it joins the first in its pattern.

I relax slightly, a little victorious smirk on my face-

-only to jerk away and with a yelp as a sharp knock on the door wrenches me out of my focus, the two ball bearings falling with a muted thump on the bed's cover.

"Hanako-san?" A voice calls aloud, slightly muffled by the still closed door, "Are you in here? Koryu-Buchou is calling for us to assemble."

"I'm coming!" I answer back, a little forcefully as I gather the ball bearings back before dropping them in my travel back, "I'll be there soon."

"Take your time." The voice chuckles, "There's no rush."

I huff a little, even as I feel them leave.

Even as I put on my shoes, I can't help but remark that I probably didn't think things through with my plan to become a member of the Kendo Club.

Well, I should've seen the writing on the wall when Sakura started talking about our objectives for the year on the very first -official- day of the year.

As it turns out? Participating in the National Japanese Kendo Championship means a shit-ton of little tournaments here and there in minor leagues beforehand.

And today was my very first participation in one of those tournaments, instead of, you know, having a week-end for myself.

Giving a last cursory glance to my hotel room, I flick the lights off, before making my way to the first floor.

I lazily dodge an overhead blow with a little sidestep, my own shinai getting a 'hit' on my opponent's upper-arm without fanfare.

"Point! Kuoh High School!" The referee exclaims.

I relax, giving my opponent a little courteous nod from behind my helmet.

The poor girl, who looks two seconds away from fainting for some reason -probably the nerves, if the Anxiety coiling around her is anything to go by- answer in kind, before the both of us go back to our starting position.

"You got this in the bag, Hanako-san!" Kirigura-senpai yells from the side, quite enthusiastically I might add, shaking a balled fist in the air, her encouragement getting echoed by my fellow teammates.

I quietly huff behind my faceplate.

I mean, I appreciate the sentiment, but the poor girl in front of me -whose name I don't even remember- only tenses even more at that.

Man, someone really can't handle a little bit of pressure.

That's actually what differentiates me from the other girls in the club, I found.

I'm not particularly talented, and only a little above average in focus when practicing my katas.

But I do have an advantage.

"Hajime!" The referee yells -they do that a lot, as I came to know-, cutting the air in front of him with a downward chop of his hand.

My opponent and I instantly dash toward each other, me to cut this farce short, her because all she's apparently able to handle right now is going for the aggression.

A wordless scream of exertion and determination both escapes her lips, as she goes for an overhead downward strike once more-

-yet the weak of her blade meet my strong, and I smoothly roll my wrists to guide the blade out of the way-

-she overextends, badly, even as I pull back my shinai closer to my own body, my eyes locked on her shoulders in case she manages to course-correct at the last second-

-and her own inertia ends up making her 'impale' herself on its tip, bamboo meeting breastplate with a soft 'clack', the sound echoing in the venue.

"Point! Kuoh High School!" The referee bellows to the crowd's benefits -mainly families and friends of our opponents from what I've gathered-, "Match! Kuoh High School!"

For a beat, you could hear a pin drop in the venue-

-before all of my teammates, Sakura excepted, explode in cheers.

I don't begrudge her, though: my match was the last of the day and my teammates already got us enough victories to guarantee our advancement to the next tournament.

I was only in the arena to see how I behaved under pressure and if my performance would drop in an official match.

It did not.

Because, comparatively speaking, fending off a lone opponent with a glorified bamboo stick has nothing in comparison to the weird ass memories-instinct I have of hacking through droves of crazed Nurgle cultists.

And that was precisely my advantage: since I had resolved my issues from earlier in the school year -with a healthy helping of having my ass beat by my, at times, not-yet lover-, keeping my head in the game and my focus stone cold had been startlingly easy.

That simple fact, combined with the not so distant possibility of eventually being able to ferret the intent of my opponents, made me pretty confident in my skills, presents and futures, with a blade in hand.

Hell, if I really wanted to throw somebody off in an official match, I could always blast them with a raw, undiluted Fear aura burst and make them flinch.

…It could even be a viable tactic in live battle, now that I think about it.

Food for thought, food for thought.

I give a respectful bow to my opponent, my shinai held to the side, before smoothly pulling off my helmet with my non-dominant hand.

Huffing my bangs away from my eyes, my hair damp with sweat, I trap the helmet between my arm and my torso, before switching my shinai from one hand to the other, extending a hand to my opponent.

"Good match." I politely reassure her, my expression neutral.

I have to bite back a laugh as, even with her helmet still on, I have the very distinct expression that she's giving me a deer in the headlights look for a long, agonizing second-

-before yelping, and only then scrambling to imitate me, almost dropping her helmet in the process,-

-and the whole thing takes her enough time that I can't totally stop my lips from curling up in amusement before the girl, a -rather pretty- redhead with jade-green eyes, finally locks eyes with me, her cheeks red from embarrassment, and shakes my hand.

"Y-You too!" She sputters a bit, "S-Sorry, it's a first for me…"

She trails off awkwardly, but I chuckle good-humoredly.

"Same here," I answer easily, with a little wink, "Was kinda anxious I'd underperform for a second."

"Really?" She blinks.

No, but that's clearly what you need to hear so that you don't take losing against what is arguably an ex-soldier too badly.

"Yup." I answer, popping the p, "That's why our Buchou wanted me to go last, so as to be free to take my spot in case we didn't qualify."

She does a little surprised 'Oh' of understanding.

Our hands drops.

"See you next year?" I not quite asks.

"O-Of course!" She quickly bobs her head, making me chuckle, before about-facing and going back to my team's corner.

I've barely taken two steps into our corner before my teammates are all looking at me like I'm a prized pony or some shit.

"Ah! I knew you could do it!" Kirigura-senpai, as boisterous while simultaneously prim and proper as always, is instantly in my face, a finger pointing right at me, "You didn't even flinch once, like, stone-cold girl!"

As the others nods emphatically, I can only quietly sigh as I put down my helmet and shinai both.

"I only did as practiced," I answer demurely, feeling a tad awkward at being praised for something so minor, "If anything, I should thank you all for teaching me well."

As they all 'awww' at my praise, a cursory glance informs me that Sakura and the captain of the other team are quietly discussing the match's results to the side.

Feeling nothing untoward or potentially drama-inducing in the Immaterium from this direction, I turn my focus back to the discussion-

"-were stone-cold, not a quip, not a word. Just you, her, and your blades!" The pinkett with an odd love for sharp and pointy objects mimics, making a blank face and her hands clasped in an approximation of a guard in front of her, before blinking, "Oh! I know! This could be your nickname!"

I blink back, even as a few of the girls seem, to my horror, to really think about it.

"I'm sorry, what?" I ask, a tad more sweetly than usual, but apparently nobody catches on.

"Oh! I like it!" A blonde with honest-to-god Ojou-sama drills -Kamonechi-san, as I got to know her- exclaims peppilly, while clapping her hands in delight, "Hanako 'Stone-cold' Prima, this has a nice ring to it!"

"No!" I blurt out, weirded out as all hell-

-only to get promptly outvoted, if the enthusiastic exclamation of validation of the majority of the club are anything to go by.

My cheeks darken and I cringe internally.

"It sounds like something you'd call a boxer, not a kendoka." I mutter sullenly, even as the girls keep arguing to each other-

-and I yelp a little as a hand lands on my shoulder, my head instantly looking over my shoulder-

-only for my eyes to lock in Sakura's own, a mischievous glint in them, and a smirk on her lips.

I give her a pleading look.

Her lips quirk a little higher as she squeezes my shoulder.

I mouth out 'please'.

Alas-

"I concur, this has a nice ring to it." She adds her own piece of mind, and I die a little inside as everyone starts congratulating me on earning a 'battle name' this soon.

I pout, still looking at Sakura.

She chuckles, before inching herself closer to my ear-

"You know, I quite like the idea of being the only one to melt that 'stone-cold' look of yours." The gorgeous brunette whispers huskily, her words getting lost in the excited chatter around us, "How about I do just that tonight in your hotel room?"

-before pulling back, leaving me with an atomic blush and gaping dumbly at her.

My only answer to that is to give her a little, shaky nod.

Needless to say, I was thoroughly motivated to win my future matches afterward.

[AN: So, we're officially closing June with this chapter, and are getting closer to summer break.

We get an insider's look into the going ons of the Kendo Club under Sakura's management, and some juicy details about Prima's training.

Hope you enjoy, xoxo]