The S.H.A.N.E. Game (editing)

Chapter 4: Iron Fists

 Chapter dedication to @lalaland- for making me this amazing banner! It was so worth the wait, thank you so much for it!

|| Hana || 

Glass? Who cares about it being four inches—no offense, but this is child’s play. I don’t get why Sara—the leader of the Jackets, I think—is staring at me like I just did something awesome. The two iron blocks that were supporting the glass sink back into the ground, where panels close over them, hiding them from sight. If anything, this should be impressive, but to the Jackets, it’s probably an everyday thing.

“Level two,” Erin says, motioning to the next set of materials behind her, “Is three inches of wood. You think you can handle that?”

“I guess so,” I murmur, although inside, I’m thinking: ‘Um, duh!’ Back home in Japan, Sensei Akai had me slice through solid iron before I finally graduated from his mentoring. Well, yeah, it was only an inch thick, but I’m only human, you know.

 Again, I break the wood, this time a few blisters sticking to my fists. Alicia is looking at my hands, concerned. “Are your hands okay? We can take a break if you want.”

“No, no thank you,” I say. The iron blocks sink into the floor again and we move on to the next level. I easily slash through five layers of wood, three and then four layers of solid clay, four and then five inches of plastic, and many other materials which I didn’t know the names of (but it doesn’t matter since I passed each level). Finally, we were at Level Twelve. 

“This is the final level of the test that makes up fifty percent of your requirements. If you make this, you have a huge chance of getting recruited. This level, however, is where many people before you failed. But I’m sure you can handle it,” Nikki says. She moves away to reveal the last level: solid iron. But that’s not what makes me swallow down doubt—I just told you why a few paragraphs above—it’s that it’s three inches. Three inches! And last time, I barely passed my graduation exam. Even then, I had a sprained fist for six months.

“Am I allowed to use my legs?” I ask the Jackets. 

“Well, yes, you can, but I don’t know if it’ll be much easier,” Nikki says, shrugging. 

“Well, I’ll try,” I decide. “Am I allowed to position the board in my own way?” 

“Yes.”

 I lift the iron board off its support and place it against the wall of the Training Room. I take deep breaths, exhaling and inhaling slowly. And then I do a running start and perform a quick roundhouse kick to the iron. When nothing happens, I stare at my feet, cursing my own stupidity. Only a complete idiot would think that a roundhouse kick would break through three inches of iron. It could dislodge a jaw, but iron? 

“I failed. I’m sorry,” I mutter, giving each of the Jackets a sad smile. “I don’t want to waste any of your time. Bye, I guess.” 

“Wait, Hana. Look,” Erin tells me, pointing to the iron board. “It’s cracking!” 

And cracking it was. Not only the board, but also the wall behind it. Then the iron finally gives in and breaks into two, collapsing in a heap. Alicia practically screams and gives me a hug which crushes my lungs. “Woo hoo! You made it! OMG, this is amazing!” 

“Note that this doesn’t give you an immediate pass to being a Jacket,” says Nikki ever so seriously, but I can see a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“Great work, Hana. Erin will forward your results to the President, and we’ll let you know the results in a day or so, depending if the system’s blocked or not, because the interns are taking their government tests.” 

Out of all the things she said, I probably only understood one-third, but I don’t care. I have a chance of getting work. And not just any work—work that I was born to do. 

“If I were you, I’d use that one day to pack up your stuff because your new home is here with us now,” Nikki suggests. Alicia gives her a weird look. “But Nikki, we aren’t even sure yet if the President approves of her!” 

“Well,” the brunette says, crossing her slim arms and fixing her dark brown eyes on me, “I think she does. And when it comes to stuff like this, I’m rarely wrong.” 

**

Sure enough, at 3 am the next day, I receive an email from Nikki saying: 

You’re in, Hana. The President wants us to meet at Mission Control at exactly 10 am today. Told you. I’m rarely wrong.

X NIKKI 

Thankfully, I have only a few personal belongings: books from my otousan, the picture of my family and my clothes. I basically throw them into my duffel bag, zip it up, and dash out of the apartment. Of course, I had to take a shower and sign some documents for the landlord, so by the time I’m walking on the street, waving to random passersby, it’s already around 6 am.

 I drop by the local café a block or so away from my apartment. When I open the door to La Pain Café, my favorite server a plump, middle-aged brunette with small dimples on her cheeks, smiles at me. “Hi, Hana. What can I get you?” 

“Good morning, Melissa. Three cheese rolls and a mug of hot chocolate, please,” I answer. I find an empty table near the window and sit down by it, absentmindedly tapping the thick glass as I wait for my order. Suddenly, at the corner of my eye, I see a girl with pin-straight, red hair and dark brown eyes staring at me from her table by the door. When I turn around, I find her looking intently at the menu. Weird. 

When the waitress arrives with my food, I thank her and tuck in, stuffing myself with the soft, sugary and cheese-filled bread, and sipping my hot chocolate contentedly. It pays off to have a warm breakfast in the autumn, when the air is about to become chilly and people start to wear fur jackets.

I relax, leaning back on my seat whilst stirring my drink. I’m busy slurping some more of my hot chocolate when I hear a chair being pulled back and I open my eyes to see a guy with pitch-black hair and icy blue eyes in front of me. I clear my throat. “Um… excuse me?”

“You must be Hana Minami, right?” he asks, leaning forward slightly. I would’ve been slightly freaked out if he weren’t sort of cute. I nod slowly. “Yes.”

 "I'm Jason Moore, although I bet you don't know me."

"I sure don't."

He grins at my statement and asks for a glass of frosted latte before replying, "Yep, you don't. But I know you. Aren't you the girl who used to live in Oakin Apartment 3B?"

"Yes."

"Well, my cousin Lucas and his brother are renting that room. I'm here to ask how much you want as rent," Jason says. "Is $500 a month okay?"

"Look; I think you should call the landlord or something. I don't think I'm of legal age to handle stuff like this," I reason lamely, suddenly feeling awkward.

Suddenly, Jason's phone starts ringing and he gives me an apologetic look before answering it. "Oh, hey, Lucas! What's up? You what? Wait, hold on a second, I'll call you back."

"So that was Lucas?" I ask, sipping the rest of my drink. Jason nods and locks his phone. "Yep. Something important came up. I'll phone the landlord and give you a call in a day or so, okay?"

"Yeah, I guess," I say, nodding. He waves goodbye, dials Lucas's number and is out the door in a flash. Melissa is arriving with his latte, which she just places in front of me and looks around. "Where's the boy you were talking to, Hana?"

"He up and left. Should I pay for that drink?" I ask, sighing. Such a waste of a hot latte. And of my money.

"No, surprisingly, as if he knew he'd get that call, Mr. Moore paid for the drink at the counter," Melissa says in bewilderment. I glance at my watch. 7 am. Three more hours until I have to meet the Jackets at their HQ.

"I have to go, Melissa. I have an appointment with a few friends," I tell the waitress, pulling out a twenty-dollar bill. "Keep the change as tip, as always."

"As always, Hana."