The Transfers of Dauntless | Newt x Reader

19 | Three Fights, A Bruised Face, and a Request

The training room is cool the next morning. I can imagine the sky above, cloudy and dreary, as opposed to the bright sunlight of yesterday's trip. We arrived back home last night with the sun feeling as if it were still beating down upon us, despite the fact that it was dark outside. Tired, I managed to wash most of my dirty clothes, as well as buy some new ones with Teresa and Brenda. The three of us are growing closer, and I would hate to see either of them leave Dauntless. I would hate to see any of us leave, but I am afraid that they will have to see me go, with my current ranking.

We have only a few fights left, to secure a place in the top 16 out of 20 initiates, both the Dauntless born and transfers combined. I know nothing about the Dauntless borns, but I assume that the large majority are stronger than we are, than I am, because many have been training for this from birth. It is likely that no more than two or three of them, at best, make up the four cut in the first stage, despite the fact that they outnumber us by almost twice fold. So far, the odds are not in my favour.

As the blackboard dictates, today I am fighting Brenda, with the second and third fights coming after ours;

(y/n) - Brenda
Minho - Teresa
Newt - Thomas
Frypan

Although she is not as physically strong as Minho or Newt or Thomas, Brenda is intelligent and fast, and stronger than I am. Ranked higher than me, I have few doubts that she will win - but I must try, I must, or I risk becoming factionless.

Jorge calls us up what feels like only a heartbeat later, and she shoots me a smile. I mouth "good luck" at her, and she winks back. I am not as afraid of being seriously hurt as I have been in the past. Perhaps I am getting stronger, more determined. I hope so.

And on that note, a whistle blows, and I am the first to move - a knee to her stomach. She and I both wince. I do not want to hurt her, and I know she doesn't truly want to hurt me, either, I try to remember as she punches me right in the jaw. A shot of pain wrenches through my face, into my mouth and deep into my bones. As I blink, her full force crashes down onto me, hands propelling into my shoulders and pushing me down as I stumble back. My knees buckle, but I do not fall. Instead, still leaning over, I twist my ankle around hers and pull .

As if in slow motion, her back hits the ground, and for a second, I am afraid, so afraid, that I have broken her spine or neck or leg. I'm so worried that I'm almost relieved when her leg kicks back up into my already sore chest. Her feet slap against the ground as she jumps up, so flexible that I gasp, and not just because of the pain.

I try to do the same, push myself up, and although I succeed, I am too slow. Brenda kicks up, higher than before, and kicks at my stomach with the sole of her foot. I wheeze, and aim a loose punch back at her, which hits her - hard - in the nose. Her vision appears to be obscured for a brief moment, but again, she pushes back against my shoulders, as hard as she can. I try to get her off, to push back against her forearms, her chest, her own shoulders and elbows. I try to kick out at her with my legs, but she does not stop, just wheeze. Again, I kick around her ankle with my own, but it is too late.

She has pushed me out of the white chalk circle on the floor, and as I collapse, she lets go of my arms. My head falls back, and I take in deep breaths, allowing air to fill my lungs. I think Brenda does the same, but I am too focused on keeping my eyes open and breathing slow and steady to notice fully.

What could be seconds or minutes later, I feel a pressure on my palm as Brenda pulls me up and into an embrace. My body tenses, but soon relaxes. I have not hugged anyone apart from my brother and father for years, and even then it's rare. Brenda, too, does not usually seem to be a big fan of it, on account of her Candor background and somewhat teasing, independent attitude.