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A few months later... (Age: 9 Mentality: Teenager ) I spar effortlessly with Five in the gymnasium. After about 3 months of training, the sharp movements flow through me.
He aims a punch at my stomach but I dodge and stomp my foot as a distraction. Five's head whips in that direction and I quickly attempt to kick him.
Somehow, he catches my leg and twists me onto the ground. "Agh!", I exclaim as he leans over me. Five's hair is slicked back with sweat and his ragged breath comes in quick pants.
"If I remember correctly, you're ticklish, aren't you?", Five growls. "Oh no. No, no, no, no!", I scream as he begins tickling me. "Please stop! I can't," I beg him, tears of mirth trickling down my cheeks. "Only if you-"
"Hey guys! Whatcha doing?", Klaus bursts in through the door, filing his nails and looking like a million dollars. He catches sight of Five pinning me to the ground and gasps dramatically.
"Uh oh. Am I interrupting something?", he mocks in a sly tone. Realising what we must look like, Five and I speedily stand up, dusting imaginary dust off each other.
"Nope, not at all," I deny.
"Definitely not! What could we be doing?", Five gulps awkwardly.
"Mhmm. Anyway, Daddy Hargreeves wants us in the hall ASAP. Like right now. If you're not too busy, of course," Klaus winks at us. Five and I blush red before following him out of the training area.
• ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ •
Sir Reginald stands proudly in the hall. A bald man with way more piercings than necessary and a tattoo snaking up his shoulder slouches beside him.
"Students of the Umbrella Academy, today marks an epoch in your lives. You will all be receiving a tattoo, a permanent marking that will brand you a hero." Vanya's eyes light up. Reginald's usage of the phrase "you will all" has sparked her hopes that she would finally be included. "With the exception of Number Seven, all of you line up here. You will go in accordance to what this 'artist' wishes."
Her face falls. She walks slowly up the stairs silently, but we could all hear the plinking of her tears hitting the ground. The bald man uncrosses his arms and grunts for us to line up.
He arrangs us without a pattern; Klaus, Allison, Diego, Luther, Ben, Five and I. His order certainly did not correspond to the numbers Mr Hargreeves gave us. It gives me hope, that one day we could live in a world free of the eccentric billionaire's clutches.
Klaus sits in a black chair placed securely in the center of the hall. The man takes out a needle from his bag and begins inking the tattoo. Klaus is alright for a minute, but the buzzing of the needle finally gets to him as he suddenly starts crying halfway through.
