The werewolf pushed through the door, slowly stalking down the hallway.

Was this Vincent’s house? He couldn’t tell. It felt like trying to gather hazy details of a dream. Wait. Was this a dream, or something real?

The beast stopped at another door and stood, towering over it, squinting beady eyes through the opening before moving through.  

.           .           .

Vincent jolted up in a cold sweat, hand against thumping heart.

“It’s close.”

He threw off his boxers and shirt, pulled on his adaptive outfit, then tossed his school uniform in a bag. He grabbed his backpack and other things and headed out.

Was this the day?

He wasn’t sure if that was his house, his hallway, or his bedroom. It felt familiar, but he couldn’t tell, like trying to piece together a dream that felt vivid when it was happening, but too difficult to recall after.

.           .           .

Mr. B had instructed them to face each other on the wet field again, which frustrated Vincent as he wanted to practice the Transformation at Will, not fight Alacard. The air was frigid and parts of the grass that were covered in shade were frozen stiff.

Both boys wore hoodies and sweatpants over their adaptive outfits, Alacard smirking as if he knew something Vincent didn’t.

“Why are we freezing our butts out here again?” Alacard asked.  

It was getting into the thick of fall, with winter not long behind, and the mornings were getting chillier.

“I may have pushed the Transformation at Will on you boys too soon.”

Alacard’s eyes went wide with madness as he had come ready to give his all.

Vincent, while not disagreeing with Alacard, wanted very much to talk with Mr. B. To tell him that the beast had found him, and if he didn’t master it today… what would happen? He clenched his fist because he wasn’t sure if it had found him, as he just couldn’t remember. So, maybe he was okay for now.

“Honestly,” Mr. B continued. “The more training you do when in your human form, the easier it will be to transform back to your human side when in your induced werewolf state. I should have started with this before forcing the harder training on you.”

“So, what are we going to do?” Vincent asked, glancing over at an angry Alacard that looked like he wanted to say something similar, adding insult as usual.

Mr. B folded his arms. “I want you to fight each other.”

“Really?” Vincent said, unsure about that. Was fighting with Alacard necessary to help with the Transformation at Will?

Alacard look elated as he cracked his knuckles and gave a toothy smile. “All right. That I can do, teach.”

“Are you sure we can’t just go and practice the Transformation at Will some more?” Vincent asked, feeling fear at the thought of getting pounded by Alacard.

He remembered his vow to do whatever it took to get strong and how he would master the Transformation at Will before Alacard. He wondered why the thought of fighting Alacard scared him? Even if he lost and took a beating, it was nothing compared to the pain he felt from transforming into a werewolf.

He gathered himself as he no longer wanted to be the scared newbie. He was going to be part of this, better than this, the best. He was going to do whatever it took to make it happen.

He clenched his fists and leaned forward. “Let’s do this.”

“Oh-ho,” Alacard said, leaning back with folded arms and raised eyebrows at Vincent’s change in pace. “Whatever pump-up trick you’re trying won’t work, chump. I’m gonna pound you to a pulp either way.”

Mr. B walked between them, looking from one to the other. “Now I want a good, clean match. The rules are simple: This is a training session, so keep your Beast Mind in check and blood drawing to a minimum. The first one to knock the other to the ground wins.”  

Alacard nodded, cracking his neck and flexing his muscles.

“Ready?” Mr. B raised his hand in the air, looking from one to the other. Then, he stepped back and chopped it forward. “Fight!”

Vincent charged Alacard thinking that a preemptive attack might lend him an advantage as he knew he was less skilled and powerful at this point. But he didn’t care. He was going to get stronger, going to win, going to best Alacard. Going to be the best damn werewolf out there.

When Vincent got close, he threw a few punches, which Alacard easily dodged and blocked. Alacard advanced, throwing his own barrage of punches. Vincent ducked and dodged as best he could.

As Vincent stepped back and leaned to the side, he thought he saw an opening and advanced, throwing all his strength into a punch. Alacard simply stepped forward, lifting his arm to parry the punch, then struck Vincent in the chest, sending him stumbling backward. With an agility that Vincent couldn’t match, Alacard moved on him, uppercutting him in the jaw, and knocking him down.

Alacard stepped on Vincent’s chest and raised his fist triumphantly. “Victory is mine.”

“Get off me,” Vincent said with a heaving shove.

He rolled to his knees and slowly stood, rubbing his chest where Alacard had stomped him, doing his best to hide the pain.

He gritted his teeth, feeling his animal instincts and his anger rise. “Let’s go again.”

Mr. B nodded his agreement.

Alacard shrugged. “Fine with me.” He leaned forward, showing a toothy grin. “Here I come, chump. Now watch close and see if you can keep up.”

Alacard charged.

Vincent thought back on his lessons and leaned his weight back on one foot, keeping his eyes on Alacard’s upper torso as Chikaze had instructed.  He brought his hands up and readied himself for the oncoming barrage

Alacard snarled forward and threw a punch. One, two, three came his punches, and Vincent stepped back, dodging two and parrying the last. He then shifted his weight, just like Mr. B had taught them. He twisted his torso as he snapped his arm forward and punched.

Alacard caught it with an open palm, stopping it in its forward momentum, holding it in place, and even pushing it back with his might, playfully smirking.

“Is that it, chump?” Alacard chuckled, pushing his weight and strength into Vincent.

“No, it isn’t,” Vincent said with a smile before making a quick move where he wrapped his trapped fist around Alacard’s forearm, gripping it tightly. He ducked and leaned into Alacard as he transitioned his weight into a throwing position, using his other hand as leverage to pull Alacard over his shoulder and into a throw. He slammed Alacard into the ground with a hard thud.

Alacard’s eyes went wide as he hit the ground. With a growl, he spun and kicked himself back up, his eyes maddened with rage as he stared down Vincent.

“That was a cheap trick,” he snarled.

“Just a little payback,” Vincent said, smirking.  

“All right,” Alacard said, his voice low. “Time to get serious.”

“Oh, you weren’t serious before?” Vincent said, poking playfully at Alacard, which part of him was enjoying while another part told him to stop.

“You’re dead, chump,” Alacard said as he burst forward. “Dead!”

Alacard was on him, punching forward. It was much too fast for Vincent to react to, and he was struck in the face. It dazed him and he stumbled back from the hit, trying to shake it off. Alacard stepped forward again, smashing another fist into Vincent’s nose. A crunching noise emitted from the strike, and then Vincent was down, dazed and dizzy.

He lay there for a moment, Alacard’s voice like a distant echo as he stood over Vincent. All Vincent could see was a blur of movement as Alacard raised his arm and pointed at him.

“That’s the difference between me and you, chump,” Alacard said, standing triumphant. “Now stay down and admit your defeat.”

Vincent shook his head, grunting as he pushed himself to a shaky knee. His vision moving from blurry to clear as he lifted his eyes to meet Alacard’s, speaking in a low, intense voice. “Again.”

And again, they fought. Alacard pounded Vincent into the ground, not caring that he was out of energy, dazed, or dealing with a broken nose. Alacard was unrelenting in his strikes, punches, and even a scratch here and there.

Mr. B watched with arms folded.

Every time Alacard knocked Vincent down, Vincent slammed his fist into the ground, one time clawing a piece of dirt and tossing it to the side as he growled, “again!”

Whatever angle he attacked at, maneuver he tried, he couldn’t get one over on Alacard, and ended up getting smacked down every time. It was infuriating.

Still, through it all, Vincent pushed with all he had to get back up, smiling and staggering to his feet. Beaten and battered with a bloodied and bruised eye, and swollen cheek, and even a missing tooth, until finally Mr. B raised his arm and declared them to stop.

Alacard slid to a stop as he was in mid-charge to demolish Vincent.  

Vincent, at his wit’s end, teetering on edge, was fine with this outcome. While he had been beaten utterly, he had gotten one over on Alacard, and so that was good enough for him. Plus, he assumed he would heal, minus the tooth, which he hoped his werewolf abilities would help regrow back. He was also going to best Alacard even if he was outmatched, outpowered, out everything-ed. At least for now. He had shown him up once, so he could certainly do it again.

As Vincent stood there doing his best to hold off from falling over and passing out, one thought kept him grounded: the idea, the desire the drive, and knowing that he was going to show Alacard up by mastering the Transformation at Will before him. He was gonna be the best, strongest, most unmatched werewolf around. And with that, he gave a weak thumbs-up, smiled stupidly, then fell forward and blacked out as he could hold on no longer.

.           .           .

Vincent opened his eyes, propping himself up on an elbow as he groaned something incoherent.

“I think that’s it for today, boys,” Mr. B said, kneeling over Vincent to check on his state.

“Seriously?” Alacard said, incredulous. “I haven’t even broken a sweat on this chump. I need a real challenge, like working on the Transformation at Will.”

Mr. B patted Vincent on his shoulder, giving him a little nod, then pushed himself to his feet. “You’ll get another chance, son. And if you’re lucky, and you listen to what I tell you, maybe you’ll get another chance at the end of the day. Now off to your classes, you two.” 

Alacard snarled and waved his hand dismissively, scoffing. “This is such a waste of time.” He sauntered off, mumbling angrily to himself.

Even though Vincent had gotten his butt handed to him, even though his body and head throbbed, he just lay back in the grass, taking in the rising sunrays. He felt a determination build in his heart as he smiled because he knew where he was headed.

.           .           .