Spirit Over Skill

The final obstacle waits: A rope bridge stretching over a rushing waterfall. White water thunders below, crashing against jagged rocks as the spray rises in a misty veil. The current churns and foams, loud enough to drown out Halo’s nervous thoughts. The bridge sways dangerously, the ropes frayed, the planks uneven. 
          The team rushes forward, boots pounding against the swaying planks. The bridge groans under the sudden weight, tilting and jerking with every step. Halo grips the ropes and forces herself onward. One by one, the others reach the far side. Their weight lifts, and the bridge steadies slightly. All that remain are Halo and Norio. 
          She risks a glance back. Norio lingers a few steps behind her, his dark skin slick with sweat, his white hair plastered to his forehead. His gaze drifts downward, to the chaos of the river below. 
          “Hey.” Halo’s voice cuts through the roar of the falls. She steadies herself and meets his eyes. “We’ve got this. Just don’t look down.” 
          For a moment, Norio breathes raggedly, caught in fear. Then, slowly, he nods. He fixes his gaze on her instead of the water, forcing his legs to move. Halo leads him plank by plank, keeping her steps measured so he can follow. She hears a sharp crack and watches as a plank splits in half underneath Norio. His leg plunges through the gap, the bridge jerking violently under his weight. 
          Halo staggers, arms flailing, barely catching the rope rail. The ropes groan in protest, fibers snapping with a sharp twang. Behind them, a line of ropes gives way, and the entire bridge twists sharply onto its side. Both Halo and Norio cry out as they’re flung toward the edge, toppling sideways. Instinct drives them to clutch the opposite rope railing. 
          For a breathless moment they dangle, the world reduced to the roar of the waterfall and the spray of mist against their damp leather boots. The bridge shudders, swinging like a pendulum, then gradually slows. The fraying ropes creak ominously with each sway, but they hold, for now. Halo’s heart hammers in her ears. She risks a glance at Norio, who is breathing hard, eyes wide with terror. 
          “It’s okay,” she shouts over the roar, her voice fierce despite her own fear. 
          Together, they cling tight, waiting for the trembling to ease, suspended above the raging water that wants to swallow them whole. 
          The team at the far end of the bridge are shouting encouragement, their arms outstretched, hands ready to catch hold the moment Halo and Norio draw close enough. 
          Halo takes a steadying breath, then shifts her weight. Hand over hand, she swings along the horizontal rope line. The rope is slick, but she forces herself to keep moving. 
          Norio grits his teeth and follows her lead. They inch their way toward safety. 
          At last, Halo is within reach. The others lean forward, gripping her arms, then Norio’s, hauling them both up onto solid ground. The moment their boots hit the dirt, the team erupts into cheers. Even Cinder’s ever-present smirk softens, her sharp eyes narrowing in something close to acknowledgment. 
          Thorn steps forward, surveying them with a commander’s cool detachment. His gaze lingers on Halo longer than the rest. 
          “You’ve got spirit,” he says at last. His tone carries weight, not warmth, but it’s more than she expected. “That’s worth more than skill. You’ll do.” 
          Relief crashes through her like a tide, stronger than any ache in her muscles. For the first time since arriving in Ossamaris, Halo feels it deep in her bones: she could belong here. 
          The sun is low on the horizon by the time they drag themselves back to the barracks. Some rush for the bathhouse, others collapse onto the long tattered L-shaped couch in the common room. 
          The door creaks and Benji strolls in with a wide grin, something suspiciously tucked under his jacket. 
          “Look what I found outside,” he announces proudly. “Lil’ fella was shiverin’ in the water. Thought we could use a mascot.”
          Every head turns. Something furry wriggles beneath the fold of his coat. Halo tilts her head. Yumi leans forward with sparkling curiosity. Norio folds his arms, already bracing himself. 
          “I found us a puppy!” Benji declares, throwing his jacket wide open. 
          Nestled against his shirt is… a giant rat. Its whiskers twitch. Its beady eyes glint with mischief. 
          There’s a beat of collective silence. 
          “…That’s not a puppy,” Dosei says flatly. 
          Benji blinks. “Sure it is. Just a scrawny one.” 
          “That is clearly a rat,” Norio deadpans. 
          “No, no,” Benji insists, stroking the creature under its chin. “See? He likes me. Bet he’ll grow out of the tail.” 
          Halo muffles a laugh behind her hand. 
          “You might want to get your eyes checked, cowboy,” Norio mutters, shaking his head. 
          “I do not need glasses!” Benji snaps, indignant. 
          At that exact moment, the rat wriggles free. It launches out of Benji’s arms. 
          Yumi clamps her eyes shut and screams bloody murder. Dosei scrambles onto the top bunk like a panicked cat. Halo jumps onto the cluttered table just as the rat scurries beneath it, sending cans of soup clattering and drinks spilling across the floor. 
          Benji lunges after it, slips on the puddle, and crashes into a bed. A blanket flies over his head, turning him into a flailing ghost. Norio makes a grab, misses, and barrels straight into Thorn, who staggers back swearing. 
          The rat darts through the chaos like a furry bullet and vanishes out the open door Thorn had just entered through. The room freezes, panting, wreckage all around them. 
          Benji straightens, dusting off his hat. “…Yeah, he’s quick. Puppies are like that.” 
          Thorn’s glare could kill. “Get. Glasses.” 
          Without another word, he storms back out, forgetting entirely whatever he had come to announce. 
          Dosei and Norio trail behind Benji who is cleaning the disaster with a mop, pointing out every puddle and sticky patch he’s missing. Benji grumbles under his breath, swiping half-heartedly at the mess. 
          Meanwhile, Halo and Yumi stack a fortress of mismatched pillows between their beds and the boys’ bunks. It’s a feeble attempt to keep the stupidity from spreading to their side of the barracks. 
          “How’s your hand?” Halo asks, nodding toward Yumi’s bandages. 
          “It’s fine. I’m more hurt that Cinder shoved me during a team-building exercise,” Yumi says with a dramatic eye-roll. 
          “Is she always like that?” 
          “Yeah.” 
          As if summoned by the negative thoughts, Cinder strides in from the bathhouse, towel wrapped around her hair. 
          “You missed it, Cinder,” Benji calls, leaning on the mop handle. “I brought us a puppy. It ran away, though,” he sighs. 
          “It must have seen your face.” Cinder doesn’t even slow her stride as she shoots him a withering glance. 
          “Cold.” Benji clutches his chest and staggers back like he’s been shot. 
          “Okay, guys,” Yumi says, raising her hands. “I’m really tired. Let’s go to bed.” 
          “Goodnight, geeks,” Benji yawns before collapsing onto his bunk. 
          Yumi blows out the lanterns, and the room settles. 
          As soon as the first snores echo through the barracks, Halo slips from her bunk. She eases the door open and steps into the cool night air, the yellow backpack slung over her shoulder. It feels a little heavier than she remembers. 
          She ducks into the shadow of a building, crouching low as the night hums with the distant sound of water lapping against the canals. Lanterns reflect faintly in the distance, their glow fractured across the waves. 
          Halo unzips the bag just enough to peek inside. “How are you holding up?” she whispers. 
          “I’m getting a little tired of the color yellow,” Rubble mutters, his tone dry. The faint light glints off his face, which already looks more intricate than before, the mechanical lines of his features sharper, cleaner. His other shoulder has begun to rebuild itself, though the metal still looks raw and uneven. 
          “Woah,” Halo breathes. “You weren’t kidding about self-regenerating.” She brushes a lock of orange hair out of her eyes. “Do you still want to get that arm and chest piece we saw in the field?” 
          “Oh yes,” Rubble says with uncharacteristic eagerness. “It will save me weeks of healing time.” 
          Halo glances around the empty cobble street, nerves prickling at her skin. “Alright,” she says quietly. “Let’s go get it.”