AIN'T WHAT YOU COULD BE — intro/training

[THEM]

[align=center][div style="text-align:justify;width:55%;font-family:verdana;"]There was a thing about war he'd come to understand: it never ended. The fighting stopped, maybe, and there were agreements, metaphorical cease-fires, false displays of mutual understanding between leaders. But the tension, it stayed forever. Hatred bubbled up inside until it boiled, and any declaration of peace would become useless when any minor conflict swayed that careful balance. A mere breath in the wrong direction could cause another crescendo into massacre, making true peace nothing more than a myth to recruit more willing bodies.

Peace. Kazuhira was a name that meant peace.

Ironic, the cards he'd been dealt. Whatever Tanglewood had faced in the past would rear up again and bite them in the ass someday.

The wildcat is unreadable behind the dark tint of his aviators. He's good at his job - his expression is distant and flat, just enough to convey equal parts acknowledgement and a vague sense of eternal disapproval. Kaz was used to the rumors, what he could've possibly done to scare off the rare dropout, how massive or how nonexistent was his body count. Talk was inevitable. He simply didn't care what they thought of him when the session was over, as long as they did what they were told in the meantime and used their head a little in the process. Chit-chat made them breathe easy, and he wasn't here to play nice.

There seemed to be a ripple of apprehension working its way around the small group that had gathered. They were taking the time to awkwardly file up and introduce themselves, and Kaz was almost ready to quip that he didn't give a shit who they were if he was going to have to pair them up himself like kids on a field trip - but he doesn't, only flicking an ear in silent acknowledgement. In spite of the outward persona he didn't look down on his recruits, he hadn't from the very beginning; no matter how vicious his words, he was fighting to make them better than they stood the day before. The worst of his criticisms were withheld for private talk, as was his praise, making him nothing more or less than the rock they should anchor themselves to for guidance, for leverage. How they chose to interpret this was beyond his control.

Speaking low, he breaks his stance to acknowledge the arrival of Aurum. "Miller, Captain. I'll request that you pair with her." Gesturing Aurum towards Snarl, he gives the Captain a firm nod. He'd seen the lion before, politely congratulated his promotion at the meeting, and decided it would be rather inappropriate to treat his superior with as much severity as the others. "You're invited to supervise if you prefer, sir."

Kaz surveys the few that had wandered up behind Aurum, squinting against the morning sunlight to conclude that their blank and helpless faces would require him to put on the training wheels this time around. It seemed they weren't going to take the initiative and work without his explicit instruction - fine by him for this session, but he'd have them taking laps if they tried to play dumb again next time. "Alright! Enough bullshitting. You and you -" he waves a paw in Crowley and Feza's direction, "You. You." and another gesture towards Perseus and Abathur.

"Consider this an exercise in distrust. You're going to learn to fend for yourselves, without assuming that anyone will blow the whistle and stop the match -" He jingles the whistle around his neck, "Or run to your side on the battlefield." There's an air of authority about Kazuhira that doesn't require a rank to back his words. At least, that's the visage he's intended to create, pacing slowly across the span of participants. He doesn't look at them, instead focusing on the horizon line just ahead. They haven't earned eye contact yet. "To clear any confusion, you'll refer to me as Miller from here on out. For this session, I am your instructor - but I expect you all to take some risks and think for yourselves when my word is not enough. If you do something wrong, you'll know it." He ought to get a medic on the scene. Kaz was used to seeing rogues beat each other senseless, taking out their pent anger on each other under the guise of a particularly passionate spar - that didn't mean they got away with it, but he'd seen enough nosebleeds in his time to start a blood bank.

"We're going to keep this introductory match simple, but that doesn't mean I want you to take it easy. Focus on reading your enemy's movements - yes, this is the enemy, not your buddy - and analyzing possible outcomes. Your goal is to neutralize the threat by any means necessary, powers included. Keep in mind that any imbalances between yourself and your enemy can be just as much of an advantage as they are a threat." Their leader, wherever he is, probably isn't going to like this next bit. Kaz is vaguely aware of the rules that govern these clans, but he highly doubts that any serious injuries are going to come out of this routine - he hasn't pinned anyone here to be capable of hurting another without weighty hesitation, not yet. "I expect to see some claws, some teeth, a couple of bruises, because on the field you aren't going to get any pulled punches. You aren't going to win by pinning them and counting to ten, you're going to keep at it until your last move is the killing blow. Then you can break it up and wait for my instruction."

Kazuhira pauses in his place, takes a breath. He hates the spiel, but they're rookies at best, and a few of them - Feza in particular, but he isn't going to say that out loud - look like they'd cry at a paper cut. This will be a slow process, for sure, but he was willing to put forth the effort to shape this place up to par. Just when the tension begins to ease and it appears as though he'd lost his train of thought, Kaz gives a frown, baring his teeth a little before grabbing the whistle to send a shrill screech through the air. "Get moving!"