Chapter 16

Peter liked the lesson, which was both painful and refreshing—but he liked it nevertheless.

Micah on the other hand, didn't have it so good. He tried and failed miserably, receiving an award of a bunch of smacks to the back.

His back now throbbed of pain, and he was certain he was going to find little bruises on his back.

It was now the end of the day, which was at three, where everyone then flocked to the playground.

Peter sat down on the bench, staring at all the other people around.

Although without notice, the red-haired girl that he met some time ago was coming towards him, which he didn't even know.

That explained his sudden shock and fear when she sat.

"Hi, Peter," she greeted with a smile, which seemed to expose her buttchin.

"Hi."

"I found you looking a bit troubled today, what happened?"

Peter, stammering at the sudden question, replied, "Things that happened before I was here, makes me scared a bit, but I get over it easily."

He now started to think he shouldn't have said anything, but there was nothing he could change now.

"Oh, well I hope you get better," she said, returning with a smile that seemed to calm Peter's fears.

"Thank you," he said, actually meaning it this time.

She smiled—but suddenly, she gave a warm hug to Peter, which was worrying towards him.

"Have fun," she said, walking away.

It was a certain sigh of relief, particularly from the hug. But, he had another encounter with someone this time he knew.

"I'm so embarrassed," Micah complained, plumping shamefully down on the bench.

Peter was quite surprised by his reaction, being that he was being trained by one of the best fighters in the world.

"Well, what happened?"

"He was trying to teach me how to do the wind stance against spears, and I kept getting smacked in the back."

Micah sighed, which really made Peter feel bad for him, until he remembered something.

"Maybe your mind isn't calm."

Micah suddenly seemed troubled by that. "Calm, Calm?! I'm perfectly calm!!!!!!!"

Peter immediately assumed he was nowhere close to calm, being that he could almost see the smoke coming out of his nose.

But, he could teach him how to.

"Follow me."

From student to teacher, Peter ordered Micah down to the floor criss-cross applesauce. He was quite hesitant about it but decided to do it anyway.

"Now, close your eyes and think about the bad things that have happened."

"Okay."

Micah did so, somehow feeling weird inside, as if something was hitting—Yes!—something was hitting inside.

It was making him feel dizzy, as if the world was upside down and he was right-side up.

He started to feel light, as if he was a feather as the memories flashed through his brain.

It hurt, and this time Micah couldn't bare it any more.

Seconds from opening his eyes, Peter said, "Now think of the good memories."

Micah eagerly switched to the good memories, starting to feel power.

Then, he started to feel a bit light, as if a series of memories were being wiped away.

Like he was being brainwashed.

He started to feel scared, and quite skeptical of this before Peter said, "Now, open your eyes."

He did so, and felt a bit empty—with only courage and peace in his mind.

Micah smiled in relief, then started to feel a bit cocky.

I'm going to redeem myself, he said in mind, with clenched fists.

He got up in a rush, confusing Peter of his certain bustle.

"Where are you—"

"Not now!"

Peter cared less about him running, but cared more about why.

While then, Micah was sprinting towards the base, going through walls, and muscling through the door, surprising Asiris in an instant.

"Well, what brings you here?" he asked, pouring slowly his cup of tea.

"I wanna try again."

Asiris was definitely surprised, but he was also impressed by the eagerness to learn.

"Oh well, then—let's try again," he said, picking up his staff and rolling it into position.

Micah did the same, except it was more confident this time.

Circling around, they faced eye to eye, looking at the stances that they reached.

Once they finally decided, the cycle stopped abruptly.

It was the wind stance.

Micah rushed in, hoping to land a little offensive hit to Asiris back, which he did.

He stumbled a bit, which allowed Micah another hit—which he did.

But this time, Asiris was aware of what he was trying to do.

I see, he's trying to rush me, Asiris reasoned, finally giving space between them.

First attempt was successful, but Asiris was going to make sure it was the last.

The charge happened once again, except this time it was a bit harder which came to Micah like levels.

He tried to back away from the alacritous strikes that were performed by Asiris.

He soon realized that this wasn't going to last before he got hit in the back again. So, he waited for the attack to come, then swept under the swing. Now, he was behind the enemy's—trainer's—line, in which he used the opportunity smartly, kicking him in the back. Asiris legs tangled into each other, making him gravitate on the floor, while as Micah pointed the stick at him.

"Well—" Asiris smiled fakely, "I see you've practiced." Micah nodded, feeling a sense of respect.

He had done it.

He laid back his stick, which there and then, he found himself falling on his back, feeling Asiris's staff sweeping him off the ground.

"Ow," he complained, as he slowly got up to see Asiris's smirk.

As a lesson he counseled, "Never take your weapon away from the enemy."

As he retreated his staff, he looked at Micah while he was rubbing his head in pain.

"How did you suddenly do so well?"

Micah looked up, almost confused at what he was saying.

"So well in what?"

"When you first tried, you failed; but now you seem to master it."

"Well, I learned from Peter about peace in your mind."

"Peace."

"Yeah, you reflect on the bad and the good. It helps you clear your mind."

Asiris—which seemed to show the opposite emotion—responded, "I've been doing the wrong things."

"What things?" Micah asked curiously. "I should've told you about the peace through the body instead of mastering the sword."

"Oh, why?"

"Because, I was afraid. I was told to train you, and I don't want to hold the responsibility of losing the war."

"So, you don't trust me?"

"Well, it seems that way," he said, grabbing his staff. "Go back into the castle; I need to meditate with myself."

Disconsolately, he walked slowly towards the door, leaving Micah behind.

Was it true?

Was it true that nobody trusted him in winning the war?

To save the earth?

He wasn't sure, but he still felt disappointed. How can he gain the trust of the people?