Page 14 of Foxes of Legend

Killing demons wasn’t the only way to get tails. Killing any powerful supernatural creature would have the same effect.

Seven should have been much too far to hear the accusation, but his eyes shot directly to us, causing the first-years to go deadly still. He looked at me, though, as if I was the one who had said it. His red eyes flashed like he was about to murder me. My heart pattered, just at the very prospect of his attention. When I curbed the instinctual excitement, I groaned inwardly.

As if he doesn’t hate me enough already. And I have to share a dorm with this guy for the next year...

Every tail increased a kitsune’s strength, speed, healing, and hearing abilities. He definitely had more than a few tails if he could hear at that distance.

Seven was dangerous, that didn’t surprise me. Some kitsune went rogue, sometimes even working with demons, like the supposedly terrifying Lord of Nightmares. And how would Seven rack up so many tails the honorable way?

An older man crossed the field from the academy. Mr. Varma wore shorts despite the freezing morning temperatures, his leg hair raised like a porcupine ready to attack. A copper whistle rested between his lips and he blew loudly to silence the chatter.

“Atten-hut!” He yelled, and the first-years all around me scuffled into rough lines as Mr. Varma blew his whistle a second time.

“Welcome to the academy. As you’ve probably noticed, this class is required for all levels. That’s because the best way to learn is by getting beaten. Half of you won’t make it through your first year. For the lucky few who stay committed over the next three years, I will teach you everything you need to know to defend yourself and win against the demons. We’ll start with conditioning. Four laps around the academy. Move!”

The whistle screamed again as my eyes scanned the upperclassmen where Enko and Kairos both watched me. Sevenstood by their side, a scowl on his face and his arms crossed. He snapped his head in my direction, glaring harshly.

After four laps around the school, I was near the back and actually possibly dying. Each step caused a jolt to ripple up my spine, a shot of pain through the numbness of overexertion.

When the whistle blew,thank the goddess, I collapsed on the ground near the other first-years. Because I didn’t have my fox form or any tails, I was slower than basically everyone, and that meant a shorter break. I chugged at my water.

Varma used the whistle again to signal the end of the break. Sit-ups, push-ups, lunges, and half an hour of things I wished didn’t exist. Some first-years emptied the contents of their stomachs on all fours. Foxfire Academy churned out the best demon slayers in the entire country, but no training could have prepared me for how difficult it would be straight out the gate.

“Take it as a lesson, kits! Tomorrow morning, you’ll remember to stretch! Did you think the academy was going to take it easy on you?” Mr. Varma called out, as if stretching would have helped. He had spent the last hour lounging in a folding chair sipping on a steaming thermos. His method of teaching involved shouting orders and seeing how we fared among the skulk.

We moved on to training with weapons. “Pair up, pick a weapon, and fight!”

Caleb approached me, grabbing a spiked mace from a box of weapons and taking a few steps back. I grabbed my own, a sword. The weapon looked metal, but was too light, slightly squishy. Foam. Then the brunet charged at me, roaring like a bear, his morningstar raised above his head.

I sidestepped, still clutching my weapon to my chest, swinging it toward him and missing. It was much heavier than the weapons I was used to. I jumped forward, slashing, but he easily deflected my amateur blows. Even if I made contact,I doubted the squishy foam would bruise his woven muscles. He rushed at me, taking me to the ground, slamming me onto my back. I gasped at the stinging pain rippling over my scars, igniting the old injury. I let out a small cry of pain.

“Seeing stars?” Caleb laughed, not understanding the flareup of burns. Based on some of the other matches, he’d actually gone easy on me. His hand reached down to help me up, but I pushed myself to my feet.

“Good fight,” I commented as I readied myself for another try.

He barely smiled. “You could say that.”

We sparred for the better part of an hour before tossing the weapons back into one of the wooden boxes. He sauntered away as though he hadn’t just beaten me black and blue. I wasn’t the only one. Half the other first-years had taken a beating. This was our first homage to our ancestry, fighting for our rank in the hierarchy.

“You get whooped too?” A sigh came from next to me. She had auburn hair and big glasses with black rims that magnified her eyes. She wore a brown sweater vest over an orange shirt and legwarmers.

“Brynn!”

She bumped her hip against mine, “Got your note. Can’t believe you were going to leave without saying goodbye. How’d you get the Elder to change his mind?”

“Fated,” I said simply, unable to control my grin.

Her smile matched mine, “Lucky. Who?”

I pointed out the guys and she let out a low whistle. “A third-year? Which one?”

“All three—”

“All three?” Brynn repeated, eyeing me as though I lied. When she was satisfied in her evaluation, she crossed her arms and bobbed her head. Everyone headed to the locker room to strip from their sweat-ridden clothes and I steered off course.

“You coming?” Brynn asked as I faltered.

“I forgot my clothes,” I told her. She offered me her spare set, but I merely shook my head, limping my sore body the long way to the dorm to change privately.

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