Welcome to Gaia! ::

Hayashi sighed as he looked around, "I'm sorry. It seems as though you already have a Vice Captain." Hayashi said as he stood and bowed expressing his apology. "I have been told that I am to be transferred to squad 10 if I couldn't find someone to Vice Captain for so I will take my leave now" Hayashi said as he stood and began to walked away.

((Meaning he hasn't left yet. So if Blaze isn't your Vice then you can talk to him XD, but it he is yeah he will have left. Sorry again I was planning on joining anyway but I got transferred XD)

Ryan looked up from his incessant paper-stamping. Just as he thought his "in" tray was empty, more hell butterflies would enter carrying more sheets that needed reading, verification, and stamping. Not to mention, he'd just been signing an entry request, as well as some papers to note promotions. Work was work, though...

Getting up from his desk and stretching, he took a short walk around his desk to wake up his legs (which were on pins and needles) before walking up to the door and sliding it open. "...Hirimi!" He realized that their conversation had been cut short, as he had been called to Nagi's office, when he had been a fifth seat. He was quite surprised that Hirimi had come here, but nontheless, he stood aside, holding the door for her. "Please, come in, Hirimi. I'm sorry that we couldn't finish our conversation before...I assume you're here about that?" There could be no other reason - if Captain Onalim of 4th Squad needed something, she would send him a memo, or come personally - or at least send Vice-Captain Envy if Onalim herself was busy.

Ryan nodded and moved toward the couches, taking a seat on one of the reclining couches and nodding for Hirimi to do the same if she wished. "A bit late, but thank you." Picking up the remote control he'd found for the stereo (he was still unused to using it, and had to remember to point it at the stereo), he turned off the record that was playing - Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band, by the Beatles. "It's a good thing you came now," he added. "I'm making preparations for a quick trip to Earth before I begin my shunpo training, and later my bankai training. Kind of a calm before the storm, you might say...then again," he looked back at his 'in' tray, noticing more papers in it, "I've grown to dislike the sight of butterflies lately."

Sighing, he looked back at Hirimi. "When I got called away, we were talking about the yearly fair where I lived, yes?"

Ryan nodded. "I remember telling you about the races, where one person managed to attempt the race on a buffalo. Needless to say, it was quite funny - the buffalo was startled by the starting pistol and bolted, throwing the rider. The buffalo actually won, and no one ever caught it...so it was decided that the original rider be awarded the prize for first place, even though he also got the ribbon for himself finishing in last." Ryan laughed a bit, trying to stop himself from going hysterical. Everyone had laughed then, and it had earned smiles from others that saw Ryan laughing at the rider's plight - and the rider himself was laughing too. Everyone had laughed. It had been fun, a good time. "It was one of the few happy times we had...but the very next day was the competition everyone took seriously. It was no laughing matter...never a laughing matter."

Ryan shrugged. "To this day, I think everyone in Greenvale wonders that. Sometimes I think..." he shook his head. "...never mind." This was for happier memories, not sad ones.

"The last competition, though, was shooting. Target shooting. Everyone had a gun, and everyone who could enter entered...but not many of them expected to win, I think. The year of the buffalo race...1942. I remember that competition as if it were yesterday."

War rages on in Europe, and a nation has just begun to hear of a disaster on the French coast - Dieppe, a planned invasion. The success will not come for another two years. But that is no matter to the people of Greenvale. It is the final day of the fair - target shooting. Everyone is silent, looking at the ten competitors, and their targets. The competitors are announced, one by one, until...

"...our silver winner from last year, with a Remington .30-.30, Zachary Tellier."

A blond-haired boy of 14 waves calmly to the crowd. His face is knotted with concentration, and one can see his Métis heritage. Not like it matters in Greenvale - the Tellier family has been here since before Riel and his rebellion. But the next announcement...

"And our four-time defending champion, shooting a Lee-Enfield Mark III SMLE with .303 British cartridges...Mr. Ryan Feldric!"

Ryan does not wave or acknowledge the crowd, he simply crouches, focusing on his target. He slides the breech of the Lee-Enfield open, his right hand moving to the box of shells on his right hip. Without hesitation or stumbling, he takes a bullet and deftly places it in the breech, closing the bolt. All is ready for him.

"On your marks...fire!"

Explosions and reports sound as the competition begins. Zachary pumps the action of his Remington, firing it at a constant rate. One of the other competitors seems to be loading an old musket very efficiently, and yet another is thumbing the hammer of a Colt pistol in between firings, stopping after six rounds to chamber more. All eyes, though, are on Ryan.

Ryan fires once, and immediately after pulling the trigger back, releases it, his right hand quickly moving up to the bolt. The breech slides open, the casing is dropped on the ground, and Ryan chambers another, closing the breech with his thumb as he chambers the round. Another report, and reload. Ten shots for each competitor. The man with the Colt finishes first, Zachary second, and Ryan third, but this does not matter. When the man holding the old musket finishes, the announcer holds up his hands. "Cease fire!"

One judge to a target. Each of them goes to their target and announces the score. The first yell, though, comes from Ryan's. "One hole! One out of ten!"

Zachary smiles, as if in victory, but Ryan simply looks up from the sight of his rifle. "Check the target. Pick it up and dump it out."

It has happened before - two or more bullets in the same place. Ryan's grandfather, Stephen, once hit seven in the same place, and after that, he designed a target that could easily be repaired for later use, but would stop bullets inside in case that incident happened. The judge looks at the announcer, who nods - the judge inspecting Ryan's target has never done this before. Slowly, the judge pulls Ryan's target off its mount, shaking the hole over a small container placed below the target.

With a small cascade of plinks, ten bullets fall into the container. The first nine are nearly squished flat, and the tenth has the tip flattened and mushroomed. The judge holds up the plastic container as the crowd stares in awe, and yells "Ten out of ten - perfect score!"

Zachary's judge has already reported - seven out of ten from the Remington. Zachary himself gapes in stunned defeat once again - for the past three years he has been defeated by Ryan Feldric, who appears unbeatable. In fact, this year Zachary has fallen further - the man with the Colt has scored an eight out of ten, placing Zachary in third place. He stands up, pointing at Ryan and yelling: "Cheater! He cheated!"

Ryan is quiet, and his uncle, Timothy, steps forward. "Zachary, you know full well that none in our family would cheat."

Zachary continues to point. "There's no way anyone could have done that!"

Ryan reaches to the ground and picks up the spent shell casings in his right hand. Placing the Lee-Enfield gently on the small bar used to rest heavy rifles, he walks up to Zachary, presenting the shell casings. "Count them, Zachary," comes his eerily emotionless voice. "Ten casings. Ten shots. And immediately before this competition, we all had our cartridges inspected and the targets were inspected. No blank cartridges, no bullets in the targets. There was no opportunity to tamper with the targets or the cartridges."

Zachary looks at Ryan, then punches Ryan hard in the ribs. "Stuck-up little kid. Learn your place...you cheated, and I KNOW IT!"

Ryan's retaliation is cold and ruthless. Before Zachary can land another strike, Ryan's elbow connects just below his breastbone, directly to his solar plexus. Zachary doubles over as Ryan stands in front of him. "You were the one stating that I was cheating, Zachary...I wouldn't be the one calling others stuck-up if I were you. We're all in the same boat here."

Ryan turns and picks up his Lee-Enfield, and walks over to the podium. Zachary's father, meanwhile, picks up the Remington, and then goes to the announcer. "Excuse my son's conduct," he says. "Give his prize to the next in line - he needs to learn to be thankful that he did well before he stands on that podium again."

Zachary is led off, glowering at Ryan until he is out of sight. Ryan doesn't look back, simply letting himself slip back to normal as the medals are awarded, and every competitor is given their container of fired bullets to keep as a memento.

"It was a good competition," Ryan finished. "Everyone took that seriously...but shooting was my life. It was what I was trained to do." He clenches his right hand into a fist, almost raising it. "Really, Hirimi...I miss the feeling of that rifle in my hands. I know that might sound strange, but it was my pride, to be able to hold that rifle and know I deserved it."

(( Long memory, I know...but Ryan's passion was shooting ^^;;; ))

Hirimi listened intently to everything Ryan said, not making a sound to interupt him. Hirimi could tell when he was coming to the end, but she couldn't help but have a small smile on her face. You could just hear the pride in Ryan's voice, the excitement, it was almost like you were there, which made it all the better. When Ryan finally finished the 'flashback', Hirimi blinked, quickly being brought back to the room. "I thought the harmonica was your life, though." She quickly noted jokingly, remembering how he had wanted one in the Healing rooms.

Yuki strode into the squad like she owned the place. A new captain, a new training shedual, and some freash meat. Following the general ammount of new paper work, hell butterflies carrying orders mostly, to the new office building.Opening the door without so much as a hello much less a knock, she found Ryan talking to someone in his office, with paperwork piling up everywhere... Home sweet home. Her office still looked like this, then again, she was one for field work and still needed a VC to play secretary.

"I got your request for Shun-po training, are you ready?"

She asked, her hands on her hips looking impatient as ever.

Yuki raised an eyebrow at the miss, she was never called that. Not even by strangers... Hell Daven didn't even call her miss. The new experience kinda freaked her out, and she debated on several rather rude comments that would respond to it. She went for the more polite of the several that jumped to her lips.

"If you still call me miss, like some delicate flower, obviously I haven't kicked your a** hard enough... To your training grounds then?"

She asked, hardly waiting for an answer before she turned and walked out the door. Typical Yuki, getting to the point more important than kindness.

(( Exit to training grounds))