A Little Tournament

Peter snuggled into the comforting embrace of his bed, enveloped by the warm comforters that towered over his body.

Finally, he opened his eyes, feeling a sense of optimism as if the day held promise.

Except, today was different.

He noticed a figure at the door, clad in a sharp blue suit adorned with an array of fussy medals.

Commander Just, a figure unfamiliar to him but about to play a significant role in his day.

He initially thought it might be Micah preparing for training, but Micah wasn’t present.

And yet, it was Asiris who had woken him up, though it might have been a mistake.

No.

Commander Just firmly stated, “It’s time for your training. Please dress up and get ready.”

“Isn’t a butler supposed to handle that?” Peter questioned.

“Yes, for less important matters.”

“Alright,” he muttered, dragging himself out of bed reluctantly. Commander Just paid no heed to his reluctance, promptly closing the door.

Soon enough, he was in the next room, donning a robe tied with a rope and covered with a black-gray comforter.

“Hopefully, you like it,” she said, her voice mirroring Micah’s, a detail Peter was unaware of.

“I do.” When she finished, she smiled, her gaze sharp as the prince left the room. Commander Just stood by the door, and without further ado, they proceeded. “Wait—hold up!” Peter called, running sluggishly behind him, still feeling low on energy.

“You must hurry up, my friend,” Commander Just encouraged with a teasing smile.

“Yeah, I got that,” Peter responded frustratingly. “But why the rush?”

“Because we can’t keep the class waiting.”

“So, I’m going to be fashionably late?”

“You could say that.”

They reached the elevator room, its ambiance now shaded in blue, a contrast to the previous times. They entered, and Commander Just remained silent, a fact that didn’t annoy Peter in the slightest.

Finally, they arrived at the training area, where Micah was preparing.

They opened the door, and Micah turned, a delighted expression on his face. “Hi, Peter!”

In response, Peter playfully smacked him on the back, disrupting his wave. It brought Peter a sense of amusement, but they both proceeded with the training, heading to a much larger training center.

It was bustling with activity, but Micah, having spent time in an orphanage a month ago, felt comfortable amid the crowd.

As he approached the training base, about twenty feet wide and stationed three feet away, Commander Just’s guiding hand suddenly vanished from his back.

“Huh?” Micah muttered, feeling a pang of confusion. It struck him as odd, but he brushed off the thought.

Ahead was their instructor, a woman with a distinctive haircut, one side shaved and the other covering an eye. She wore a polished black one-piece suit.

“Over here,” she commanded, swiftly pointing to the base.

Peter, without hesitation, closed the three-foot gap.

The other students were mostly new faces, except for a few familiar ones. He recognized the red-haired girl from the playground and a man he had a disagreement with, who was now glaring at him.

“Xavier!” the teacher called out, causing him to turn his attention. Peter sighed in relief as he made his way to the base.

Once everyone was in position, the teacher introduced herself. “I am Master Caville, and I will be your trainer today,” she said, her gaze sharp as she addressed Peter.

“You will undergo rigorous training here, and I won’t tolerate complaints. I have the authority to discipline you, and it won’t be pleasant.” Peter detected an accent in her speech, adding to the sternness of her tone, though he couldn’t quite identify it.

“Now, sit cross-legged,” she instructed, demonstrating.

Everyone followed suit, though some struggled with the posture.

“Close your eyes and think of something that troubles you.”

Peter closed his eyes but found himself instantly transported back to the terrifying moment when the muzzle was pointed at his face. He stifled a cry, noticing some eyes on him, including the teacher, who wore a satisfied smile.

“Yes, it will hurt, but it challenges your fears and helps you overcome them. It’s a way to confront your fears.”

Peter felt a surge of determination, trying again. However, the pain was sharp, causing irritation in his stomach. Tears welled up, and he struggled to hold them back, not wanting to appear weak.

He tried to shift his focus from the memories to the tears, intentionally concentrating more on the physical sensation.

“Now, focus on the good times, the peaceful times,” the teacher instructed.

He shifted his thoughts to the joyful moments he had shared with Micah, the swings, laughter, and conversations. Their friendship was a beacon of happiness in his life, a source of strength and comfort.

The feeling overwhelmed him, and he smiled genuinely, experiencing a happiness that went beyond anything he could force or pretend.

For once, he was proud of himself.

For once, he was genuinely happy.

He recollected all the adventures they had shared, from their first meeting to the present.

They were more than just friends.

They were close brothers, bound by an unbreakable bond.

Peter meditated on these thoughts, smiling until his cheeks ached.

“Next, open your eyes,” the teacher directed.

He did so, smiling, feeling a certain blankness in his mind.

A blankness that brought a peaceful serenity to his thoughts.

“If you feel a blankness in your mind, that means you have achieved peace. But it’s not that easy, so let’s try again.”