"Okay, Passerotta, just remember. If you start to not feel well, you need to tell me. Okay?" My father and I were standing in the middle of a small room inside of the studio, facing each other. His hands were on my shoulders, as he tried to get me to pay attention.

"Yeah, yeah." I looked up at him. "You don't have to worry about me, dad. I'm going to be perfectly fine." In truth, there probably wasn't a lot of truth to that, but I had to try and get him to believe me, for both of our sakes.

"It's my job to worry." My dad ruffled my hair, before gently grabbing my wrists and looking at my hands. "Just one question, does it hurt?"

"You grabbing my wris—oh, you mean when I use the knifey-shield stuff. No, just feels, well, funky." I pulled my hands away from my dad, almost as if it was an instinct. "But trust me, dad. I will be fine."

"Okay, I get it. Now, can you should me how your powers work?"

I held my arms out, hoping that my dad would not realize that I've never really summoned it on command before. After a few seconds of me focusing, though, I began to feel the all-too familiar tingle in my hands. The aura started to form around my hands, thankfully with no knives to start. My dad watched silently, which kind of freaked me out a little bit. I tried to keep it without the knives, since I liked that so much better than with the knives.

"So it's not really a shield," my dad muttered, keeping his eyes on my hands. "More like armor."

"Huh?" I lost my concentration for a split second, as I tried to figure out what my dad was talking about, and the slick aura around my hands turned into the jagged casts that they normally were. Of course, I freaked out, backing up and trying to shake the thing off.

"Hey, calm down, you're fine." My dad rushed to me, but I had somehow gotten it to disappear by then, putting my hands behind my back and giving my dad a smile so fake it would've put the whole plastic surgery market out of business.

"Yup, just a little scare." I could feel my dad see right through me as I played pretend, but I tried not to let it phase me. "Now what?"

"Well," my dad fidgeted for a moment, "try it out on that punching bag there. Start with it not sharp, if at all possible."

I was kind of confused about that, but it wasn't like I was going to argue with him about it. I walked over to the punching bag, looking at it for a moment. It was entirely still, and as cold as a corpse.

I raised my hands, and began to bring the aura back around them. I kept my concentration as best as I could, forcing the aura to stay down. After a while of it staying slick, I brought my hand up, punching awkwardly into the bag. I still had no clue how to actually punch, which was probably not the best thing for me when attempting to train.

As I hit the bag, though, something strange happened. Even though I thought I had stayed concentrated as I threw the punch, as soon as my fist hit the punching bag, the aura automatically became sharp, slashing through the fabric. I pulled my hand away quickly, looking sheepishly at my dad as a bit of filling fell out of the bag and onto the floor.

"Sorry, I didn't know—"

"There's no need to say sorry. That's an old punching bag, and I had you punch that one, since I had a feeling that would happen." He walked over, putting his hand on my shoulder. "Since that does happen, though, I think I know what must be done first, before you start the punches and all that."

"But, that's what is going to save me if I get attacked, so, I need to punch stuff. Just, maybe not with the sharp stuff." I looked back over at the punching bag, my thoughts jumping to what that would look like if it had been flesh. "I, I can do that."

"No, what you need to work on first, is healthily focusing your energy with your powers, so it only fires off when you consciously want it to. It's hard, and it'll take a long time, but it will help you more than flashy punches." My dad patted my head, before taking out his phone and typing something. "How are you with horror games?"

"Huh?" I watched my father walk out of the room. He was going crazy, I was sure of it. I turned my attention back to the punching bag. "Okay Giovanna, you got this. Just punch the bag, without any sharp stuff. You can do this. Just focus."

In hindsight, I was probably the one actually going insane, since I was talking to myself.

I forced myself to bring the aura forward again, forcing myself to keep it slick, despite the strain. Then, I brought my hand forward again, slowly this time, keeping my whole concentration on keeping it from spiking as it hit the punching bag.

Newsflash: it still spiked. I made another set of tears through the thick cloth, sending more filling onto the floor.

Out of anger, I punched the stupid thing one more time, just for good measure. After all, it would've been pretty dead already, had it been a human being. Then, I flopped on the padded floor, raising my hands up and squinting at them.

"Can you work with me here?" I muttered, summoning the aura again. That part was getting easier, at the very least, since I now knew what to look for. If only the sharp stuff would work as well.

I put my arms down by my side, groaning as I thought of what I could do to make it work faster.

Of course, as my arms hit the floor, the sharp stuff came back, sticking me into the floor for a few seconds.

I hadn't seen many movies in my life, but in them, the training always seemed fun. Always seemed to never stop, always progressing. Sitting around, playing horror games? That wasn't training. That was just my dad trying to convince me that I was training.

Wait, wasn't he the one that wanted me to train in the first place?

I sat up, feeling myself get angry for no apparent reason.

If he didn't think I could actually train, then I'd show him.

I got back up, focusing on the aura in my arms and forcing it to stay down, even though the strain was beginning to turn into more of a headache. I then punched the bag again,and even though the fact that I was staring at my arm and envisioning the aura staying down, it spiked again. So, I tried again.

And again.

And again.

Though it still wasn't working, I was too stupid to stop. Even as I heard my dad calling for me, saying a friend was there to see me. Even as everything started to swirl around me. Even as my dad's voice became distorted, and even as my vision started to grow black.

Obviously, though, I stopped as I fell to the floor, and went unconscious.