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Uta was never fond of weapons, nor had he found them necessary. It is more satisfying to bring enemies to their feet by bare limbs — as that makes the achievements more raw and genuine — than to wield those heavy, bothersome swords, or even throwing a knife whose path is out of his control. They say weapons are really vital for demon battles, and even make it easier to slash Downworlders' vulnerable fleshes, but for him they are just useless weights. He hated fighting against the bow's tight string during archery practice, and enduring cuts from the wooden swords when his became just a burden as it kept missing his opponent's head.His failure repeated now as the throwing knives missed their targets as soon as they flew out of his palms.Taking another several in his hand, he flew a flurry of them, trying to summon his strength when there is almost none, recalling the elders' advice, Find your nucleus of control. The knives flew wildly in the air, some flipping, some sailing linearly. He didn't care what his parents would say if they break windows or scratch the floor; he was just practising, and using less strength to stay inside the boundaries does just as nothing as going all out and breaking them.Rains of clack clack clack echoed off the walls as the knives' sails were interrupted either by targets or the ground.Anyway, they had done no damage. Only two hit so close to the bullseyes. The rest lied and scattered on the ground, useless.His stare inspected simply on a few of them. Useless.He joined the silence and its quiet and cruel taunt on his inadequacy, before moving to collect the knives."Hey, need any help?" A small voice started at the doorway behind him.Despite the familiarity of it, Uta stopped and turned around with an irate expression and a preparation of crude snark, but ceased as surprise took over at a slouching Renji at the arch.Renji, the white-haired boy with a smart mouth that entertains him when used against his parents, the pet to his often absent family but another brother to himself and Itori, the lonely boy that had only opened up to him that his only family is his sister, is in any way opposite: so much better at long-ranged weapons, including the knives he had just failed to command (although just as crappy at shorter-ranged ones), while far more terrible on literature and rune tests than him and his sister. His wildness comes from the streets and has lasted too long to bring his true Nephilim self to the surface, not the civilized charm at least. Everyone ignores him until the combat lessons in which his potentials are shown to their fullest. He has never had an eye for the Law and rambled on its flaws until Uta one day pulled him aside and warned him about its consequences. To be honest, it amuses him to see Renji challenging it without giving a fuck, but the boy's disregard is at times irritating.Uta walked across the floor and retrieved the thrown weapons, first plucking those out of their bullseyes. "I got enough credits from everyone else. I don't need more from you."Renji approached nevertheless. "Let me try."Uta turned back to return these two knives into their basket. "They are your specialties, not mine.""It's all about confidence," the other affirmed, picking some on the floor; the blades sing. He walked back to the fair distance away from the targets. Uta turned around to look. Here he is, ready to throw. What a show-off."Once you believe you are the best ..." His voice faded as he shifts one to his right hand, then his eyes fixated back on them, as if they are nothing but rings of circles instead of a series of grueling, dreadful labour.With a sudden turn of his body and thrust of his hand, as if to cut the air, the knife vanished and reappeared, so fast, so brief, its blade buried right in the centre as a certain kill.Uta's eyes widened."... you would be unstoppable."The last words came out easy and quick as breathing, as the way the knife had just flown.And that was the first useful advice Uta had ever heard, way better than the supposedly wise elders.
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Snap, snap, snap, whoosh! Swaying her hips, swinging her hands, her strokes cutting and sure, the flames on the candles whisked out upon contact of her whip.With a final downward flick of her wrist, Itori rose and straightened her back, flipping her head to shake the unruly strands of her hair back into their place, proudly smirking at her finished work, before turning her attention to the footsteps advancing the training room that she realized was aiming toward her. She swung on her heel in its direction to find Uta stopping in his tracks with a hesitant expression, one foot stepped out indecisively.She stared at him and he did not speak. A confused silence later, she asked, "Why aren't you getting ready?""