Homecoming
It was the 6th of September and Violet Vanderson was already late for her first day of second year.
Upon hearing her alarm blaring and shrieking at her to get up and get a shift on, she’d groaned and batted the wailing phone away, telling herself just “5 more minutes.”
It was now 9:02 and she was furiously pumping her legs up to the great oak doors slowly becoming larger and larger as she approached. Praying that the door to her Mathematics class was still unlocked when she’d arrived, Vi took one last look at the grand lettering adorning the doors before pushing her way through:
“PILTOVER MILITARY ACADEMY”
As she entered, the familiar warm scent of the hallways filled her nostrils: Earthy, woody, homely, slightly tinged with the fresh smell of ammonia from the Summer’s cleaning team still clinging to the air.
Identical lockers lined the hall as she sprinted in what she hoped was the direction of the Mathematics block. Rows of doors, filled with bright-eyed, bushy-tailed students zipped past her periodically. As long as no teachers (or teacher’s pets) caught her running while in uniform, the worst Vi would come out with would be a mark for tardiness. A small dent in her otherwise spotless record that probably wouldn’t kick up too much of a fuss in her bi-yearly progress review with her mentor.
The Piltover Military Academy was regarded as one of the most prestigious educational institutes across the entire of Piltover, if not the whole of Runeterra. Applications flooded with hopeful prospects each year with an approximate application-to-place ratio of 17. Originally established as a pipeline for the best and the brightest to be educated to the highest standards possible before being streamlined into Piltover’s military, it was still a beacon of intellect even within peacetime, however still upheld the same rigorous rules and codes of conduct that the military had.
As much as PMA tried to re-brand itself as just another regular university, its curriculum still heavily circled around military teachings: whether it be learning about famous Piltover battles in History, or the trajectory angles of missiles within Mathematics, or keeping operationally fit in Physical Education, each class and lesson wound back to battlefield tactics one way or another. It was never directly addressed in board meetings, or school assemblies, but each cadet knew exactly what they were being prepared for, no matter how peaceful council summits or international treaties seemed to be:
They were being grown for war, and could be harvested at any time.
That was something that the PMA liked to hide in the fine print of their acceptance letters, knowing it would be overlooked by successful applicants caught up in the whirlwind of emotion that was being accepted into the oldest and most distinguished university in the country. Every academy cadet could be called up into the draft if the council deemed it necessary, their names entered as soon as letters were sent out, a random ballot in which their fates were sealed depending entirely on the date in which they were born.
Vi knew this way before she’d even accepted her sporting scholarship to the university. One of the many lessons she’d learnt the hard way while growing up in Zaun was to always read the fine-print, back to front, before ever touching pen to paper. And the idea of being conscripted was something she’d grown to just live with.
Not necessarily accept, but to just live with.
Brown combat boots skidded to a halt outside of MA-G06. The screech of rubber echoed along the empty corridors. Vi gulped down saliva forming in her mouth, took a deep breath, and pushed open the door.
“-polynomials, however, are used lots in modern applications. They’re used to optimise values, create modelling systems, and most importantly-“
Professor Silco stopped mid-sentence, his mouth agape, and slowly turned his attention to the camouflage-clad cadet now standing in his doorway. Vi panted quietly, still struggling to catch her breath.
“-predict outcomes, such as how likely it would have been that at least one of my students would turn up late on their first day,” Silco continued before drawing in a sharp breath. He spoke the last words with a hint of venom on his tongue. “Cadet Vanderson.”
“Professor Silco,” Vi huffed. She played with the straps of her backpack awkwardly before continuing, “Sorry. Traffic was crazy.”
“You live on campus?” a voice retorted, sounding more like a question than an accusation. Vi glared out into the sea of uniformed cadets to meet Claggor’s eyes, who simply shrugged at the remark he’d just made. Mylo sat next to him, squashed into the side of his desk by the sheer size of the boy next to him, and smirked.
Silco sighed and waved his hand. “We haven’t the time for this. There’s an empty seat at the back. I don’t want to hear a peep out of you until this lecture is over.”
Vi nodded, adjusted the cap perched atop her head, and headed towards the back of the classroom. She spotted Jayce’s face quickly as she went past the rows, dapping him up briefly with a smile.
“Without the theatrics, if possible, Cadet Vanderson!” Silco called after her. She rolled her eyes before finally settling her stare to the last empty seat, tucked away in the corner of the class.
As she thought about who she’d be sitting next to for the rest of the semester, Vi’s classmate looked up from her workbook.
Their eyes finally met. Ocean on storm.
Vi was staring at Caitlyn Kiramman, and Caitlyn Kiramman was staring right fucking back.
***
Caitlyn always made extra effort on her first days, regardless of what first day it may be.
First day shooting in a new range? She was polishing her rifle off before the date was even confirmed.
First day meeting her academic advisor? Each of her in-class tests were laminated and embossed with her signature the week before, ready to present.
First lesson with a new teacher? Surprise, surprise, there was a ruby red apple perched on the desk before the academic could even walk in.
Cait’s first day of second year was no different to any of these. She’d showered, applied her regular skincare routine conservatively, ironed and pressed her uniform which now hung proudly on the handle of her wardrobe (now sporting a double chevron on her rankslide to indicate she was a second year cadet), and slid into bed way earlier than usual to get her eight hours in.
First impressions, as well as first days, were just as important to Caitlyn. And her first impression of Vi had been witnessing her chug a pint of mystery drink at one of the PMA rugby match’s afterparties as her teammates circled her and jeered her on. And as Vi slid into the vacant seat next to her, the sight of the lumpy alcoholic liquid bobbing down the girl’s throat was all she could think about.
“Vanderson,” Caitlyn greeted. She didn’t shift her eyes away from Silco, who was rattling on in the distance about turning points.
“Kiramman,” Vi responded, shuffling through her backpack to find a workbook to write in. “Good holiday?”
Caitlyn didn’t answer her question and kept her gaze on the Mathematics professor.
“Silent treatment, wow,” Vi grumbled. Finally locating her Mathematics book, she slapped it down on the table in front of her.
Even with Caitlyn locked in on the teacher, she still couldn’t shake her mind away from this morning, how peaceful and stress-free it was to finally live off campus and, more importantly, live with her best friends.
For all first year cadets at the academy, it was compulsory that they boarded on-campus for the duration of the year, restricted to twin rooms to be shared by two cadets of the same gender. There were very few circumstances were first years were permitted to stay off-campus, and Cait had tried to no avail to move away or at least swap rooms, after her original roommate spent the entire first two weeks loudly crying herself to sleep each night. The roommate didn’t last long after that.
Caitlyn had practically jumped at the opportunity to finally move off-campus in second year. Choosing her roommates was a privilege that she thought she’d never see again, and had quickly contacted Jayce to check his rooming plans for the next year too.
Her other two roommates, Mel and Viktor, were easy pickings as well. Cait had known Mel since she was a toddler, both their mothers briefly introducing the girls to each other outside of the Council meeting room before rushing inside to discuss whatever filler topic was on the agenda for the day. After spending half your childhood sitting outside in a cold waiting room counting down the minutes before the Councillors emerge, you got to know someone quickly.
Viktor was someone that Caitlyn had met whilst studying at Piltover Grammar School. He was on an academic scholarship, something that most other students looked down their noses at him for, and with a gammy leg and dodgy walk, he was easy pickings for bullying and teasing.
However, Cait had looked past that, and saw the brilliant, friendly, downright sweet boy that Vik was. They became academic rivals swiftly in almost all classes, keeping the competition friendly, which resulted in both of them receiving Valedictorian when the graduation ceremony rolled around.
Out of the entire house, it was only Caitlyn and Jayce who actually attended Piltover Military Academy; both Mel and Viktor were going into their second year at the University of Piltover, and the group had settled on a place that was equal distance from both institutes, with the intention to carpool within each pair to their opposite universities.
The dynamics for them all had worked out flawlessly.
“Hey, Sprout,” Jayce had greeted over his bowl of porridge, mouth full of food, as Caitlyn made her way downstairs in the morning.
Cait’s nose wrinkled with disgust as she saw the contents of his mouth. “Gross, Jayce,” she had quipped, opening the fridge to produce her container of overnight oats.
“Sorry.” Jayce set his spoon down, wiped his mouth, and looked up at Caitlyn. “Excited for today?”
“You bet.” Cait settled down opposite him and popped the lid off of her breakfast. “Have you given any thought to what you’d like to major in?”
“Engineering,” Jayce said casually. He took another shovel of food into his mouth. “What about you?”
Cait shrugged. “I was thinking Criminology, maybe. Or Forensics.”
“Hmm.” Jayce continued eating, pulling out his phone to check his messages. “I’ll drive us today.”
“Thanks.” Caitlyn smiled thinly and tucked into her oats.
It was easy for Jayce to pick what he wanted to do for the next four years at PMA. He’d always been a tinkerer, as long as Cait had known him, building stuff then blowing it up and building it a bit more again. It was hardwired into his brain, a natural and easy choice regardless of where he studied.
For Caitlyn, her parents had pressured the decision into being a lot, lot harder. Her mother was insisting that the young lady majored in Law or Medicine, to keep the family legacy alive and going. And as a doctor himself, Cait’s father had agreed with her mother blindly.
But Cait knew where her passion lied and had known for a very long time that her 5-year plan was to go into law enforcement after graduating. She knew she could make a difference as a doctor or lawyer, sure, but the change she wanted laid on the streets of Piltover. Putting criminals behind bars. Cracking cases deemed unsolvable by everyone else. Looking out for the little guy. That’s where her loyalties lied, not constantly serving the elite.
“Morning, campers!” Mel’s cheerful voice rung out across the kitchen. She swooped down and gave both a kiss on the cheek, shortly followed by Viktor, who hobbled in on his crutch. “Can’t talk long, Viktor has some meeting to go to before classes start.” She reached into the fridge and pulled out her lunch, prepped the night before, and went to grab her car keys.
Viktor turned his head to face Mel. “Thanks again, Mel, you really didn’t have to-“
“Hush now.” Mel pointed at him, keys in hand. “Let’s get going. Don’t want to be late on our first day back now, do we?”
“Have a good day, guys!” Jayce called after them as they swept out of the door. Cait waved sheepishly and watched as Mel’s SUV peeled off of the drive.
Before moving in together, the three had drawn up an agreement unbeknownst to Viktor that they’d share the workload of driving him places for nothing in return. While he’d been secretive and dismissive of the nature of his condition, they all knew it meant he probably would never be able to drive, and they all came to the conclusion that they would pick up the slack of running him around and dropping him places. Mel was on university runs, which made sense as they both attended the same college, Jayce had doctor’s appointments, and Cait had the odd jobs such as grocery shopping and the occasional airport drop-off. While they never directly addressed it in front of him, they all knew that Viktor knew there had been some discussion beforehand, and thanked them in any way he physically could, normally picking up their chores or doing a surprise deep clean of the house when they were all out.
It was an effective system, the house working as one body, and Caitlyn liked it.
“You got a pen?”
Vi’s voice suddenly broke her out of her distant daydream. Silco continued rambling with his lecture.
Without looking over, Caitlyn slipped her pencil case across the table, and Vi dug around in there for a second before producing a plain black Biro.
“Thanks, Cupcake,” she teased, handing the pencil case back.
Caitlyn huffed at the nickname before finally putting her full attention back into the class at play.
After what seemed like a lifetime of Silco droning on about X’es and Y values, the bell finally rang out, and Vi leapt out of her seat. She beelined straight for Mylo and Claggor, wrapping both her arms around them in a tight squeeze. “T’sup, boys?”
“Hey, Vi,” Claggor said, squeezing her back twice as hard. Vi winced as Claggor’s hands dug into her ribs.
“You gonna be able to fit a lift in with us, Miss VC?” Mylo teased. “Or is your schedule too jam-packed for your brothers?”
Vi lightly jabbed him in the arm. News travelled fast. “Training’s at five. Meet you at the gym at half six?”
“Deal,” Mylo confirmed. “And don’t be late!”
“Not again!” Claggor added.
Vi laughed and waved them goodbye before joining the sea of green uniforms now packing the hallways, double-pacing her steps to ensure that she actually got to her next class on time.
***
The news of being awarded vice-captain of the Piltover Military Academy’s Women’s Rugby Union team came as a slap of shock to Vi. She’d been eagerly waiting for the squad line-up for this season to be announced, refreshing their team’s Hextagram page again and again for the update, chewing nervously at her thumbnail – a habit Vander had tried and failed to get her to quit.
The lineup was finally posted after what felt like hours of suspense, and Vi had felt the surge of adrenaline as she scoured the list for her name:
6. VANDERSON, V. (VC)
One of the fifth years had been awarded the title of captain, which was expected by the whole team, however for a second year to get the VC badge? Unheard of.
But now, as she undressed out of her muddy training clothes and slipped into clean gym gear, she understood why the captain and coach had chosen her to lead.
For the first couple weeks of the season, it was the vice-captain’s job to ease the rookies into the way that PMA played, and Vi had hit the ground running, taking to the group of first-year players like a duck to water. The first half of the session had been spent going over the team’s signature moves and plays, running demonstrations where possible with the senior players, and the second half was a simple game of reduced contact rugby – mainly for Vi to scope out who were the hitters and who were the runners. Or the forwards and the backs, they were more professionally known as.
“How’d they do?” a voice above her asked. Vi looked up from tying up her trainers to see Coach Sevika stood over her, arms folded, a blank expression on her face.
“Good,” Vi answered honestly. Simply put, they were good: they wouldn’t be on the team with a scholarship otherwise. “Seemed to absorb the plays well, just depends how they take it onto the pitch.”
“Hmph.” Sevika rubbed her chin. “Anyone to look out for?”
Vi laughed airily. “They’re all good, Coach. Some of them might be better than who we’ve got on the starting lineup at the moment, even. I think we need to re-evaluate the whole ‘no fresher starters until November’ thing.”
Sevika quickly shook her head to this suggestion. “Not until they learn all the plays, no, Vanderson. We run a tight ship here, we can’t have a first year ruining-“
Vi interrupted the coach mid-sentence. “The plays are good for making space. But how many times have we actually scored off the back of one? Just look at last season, coach.” Vi waved her arms around. “We got points because our girls saw gaps in the defence and they took it, not because they ran some stupid-“
“That’s enough, Vanderson.” Sevika raised a hand into the air and breathed through her nose. “We’ll discuss this further on Wednesday, with your captain present. See you then.”
Vi opened her mouth to protest, but slowly closed it, running her tongue along the inside of her mouth. “Yeah, alright. See you then, Coach.”
Without another word, she swung her duffel bag over her shoulder and headed off to meet her brothers at the gym.