entrancelogs | Chihiro's Training Montage

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Chihiro's Training Montage

Who: Chihiro Fujisaki, seperately with Dean Winchester, D'Artagnan, and Shannon Beiste - possibly others; I'm open to other characters dropping in the threads, so long as everyone else is!
Where: Various locations
When: At various points within the week
Rating: PG, PG-13 at most.
Summary: Through the course of her personal mission to become stronger, Chihiro seeks the help of various residents who had offered to help her.

They're probably busy. I don't want to be a bother. Maybe it's hopeless, I shouldn't waste their time.

These thoughts and more had often swirled in Chihiro Fujisaki's head whenever she thought back to all of the people who offered to train her to defend herself and strengthen her body. Weighing in at less than 100 pounds and standing less than five feet tall didn't leave Chihiro with a lot of room to grow, and it was often easier to simply look at herself for a few good seconds and give up.

As the mansion's cruel tricks chipped away at her, however, her behavior began to change. Rather than being discouraged, Chihiro found her resolve. She could either give up, or bite the bullet and strengthen herself - and she had too many good friends counting on her to stand up for herself to take the easy way out any longer.

"...Alter Ego... if anyone asks for me for the next few hours... tell them I'm not available. I'll be back, all right?"

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By the time she shuffles in, he manages to swallow and grab a swig of his bottled water to clear his mouth. "No, no, not a chance. You're right on time."

The food gets put on a plate, shoved aside on the table. He rubs his hands together to clear them of crumbs, and finally takes in her jogging suit.

Frowns.

"Right, first thing's first- thinking the kinda training I'm gonna be able to give you's not gonna come out of that bag. The kinda fighting I do and the kinda fighting you'd do are totally different."

Not that he knows a hell of a lot about martial arts or anything, but he does know the bar-brawl hand to hand marine-style combat training he got from Dad just ain't gonna cut it for someone of her height and build.

"On the bright side, thinking I know exactly who you need to talk to for that. Gotta set it up with her. In the meantime, I think we're gonna focus on something a little more short term solution."

He reaches behind him, tugs a flash of metal from his waistband and holds it out to her. His gun, pearl handled grip and all. It's not the one she's gonna use, but he'd like to see her reaction. See how she feels about it by the look on her face rather than the words out of her mouth- always a lot more accurate when it comes to reading people- and the way she takes it from him'll tell him a hell of a lot about her skill level.

She blinks a few times, as if her eyes were adjusting to what Dean had just presented to her. After a second, once she realizes what he's shown her, her eyes widen. "Is that... is that a real handgun...?"

Once the surprise wears off, she can't help but feel her heart sink just a little. "Oh, that's right... I remember last time we talked about this, you mentioned firearms training..." Lowering her head, she flushes with embarrassment, not-so-subtly shuffling in front of the bag of training equipment she had hauled with her in order to conceal it from view.

She extends a hand cautiously toward Dean's gun, but then withdraws it briefly to make eye contact with Dean, to silently affirm that he was indeed offering it to her. After a moment, she reaches forward again, with both hands - small hands, Dean may note, even for her size - and very carefully picks it up in a way that keeps her fingers far away from the trigger, the gun's barrel pointed away from both of them, and her hands off any moving parts. The way she carries it, like it could go off at any second, is more indicative of nervousness than any sort of training.

"I... this is the first time I've ever held a gun before... In, in Japan, it's illegal to even touch a live firearm..."

She bites her lip, looking down at the weapon she held so cautiously in her hands. It could be her own lack of confidence and experience, her anxiety about holding something so dangerous, or even differing attitudes between American and Japanese cultures on the nature of firearms, but holding the gun in her hands doesn't make her feel stronger at all.

His eyebrows creep up a little at her question, and he doesn't answer. Just stoically holds out the gun- it's real enough, she'll find out when she takes it. He doesn't blame her for thinking they'd be doing something a little more physical, and if it were plausible, they might. The fact of the matter is, Dean's never been a jogger. Or an exerciser. He doesn't do weight lifting or bicycling or whatever it is olympic athletes and karate instructors do. He gets better by being hands-on, by straight up hand to hand combat, and that's just not gonna work with Chi. He wouldn't even begin to know how to teach her to fight, they've got such a different build that it'd likely do more harm than good.

He'll leave that to Jo, she'll do Chi right. He knows it.

Back in the real world, Chi takes the gun. If nothing else, he can say she treats it with the proper amount of respect and concern. Keeps the barrel away from where it could do the most harm and her fingers away from the place that could make it, but that's about all he can say. The rest is just nerves, complete and utter lack of form or familiarity, not even really any natural ability that he can see.

"The safety's on." He nods towards the gun, feels the compulsive need to put her at ease. In all honesty, it's good that holding a weapon doesn't give her a since of power. The only thing worse than a gun in the wrong hands is a gun in the hands of someone who thinks it makes them stronger. That's not it at all- it's the knowledge of how to use it and when that's going to keep her safe.

"C'mon. We're going down to the shooting range, and we're gonna do a little target practice."

A beat.

"You, uh, you can leave the gym equipment here 'til we get back."

"Oh, of course... I'm sorry that I forgot about what we discussed last time we talked about this..." She's clearly still mentally kicking herself over preparing herself for the wrong sort of training. "I'll take it all back to my room once we're done, of course..."

She hands the gun back to Dean the moment it feels appropriate to do so, then follows along behind him as they make their way to the shooting range. As they walk together, she quietly contemplates the benefits of learning how to use a gun properly - Wonderland's events are often dangerous, even to people who can fight hand-to-hand, so being able to protect herself is a necessity, after all.

"...Do you think I'm a lost cause, Dean? I mean, I know how small I am... I'm not going to get any bigger, either... I'm sixteen years old, so a growth spurt this late is out of the question..."

"Don't worry about it. Seriously." The gun gets tucked away, and he grabs his own bag from beside his bed. It's not something he put together especially for her, he didn't even know she was coming, but old habits die hard and keeping an action bag ready at all times is just something he learned from dad that never quite went away. Saved his ass more than once.

The shooting range isn't exactly an official place, so much as an abandoned room a ways off from the general population for the sake of noise control. It's got everything they need, though, made to be a replica of the one he's used to back home.

He selects a booth near the middle, sets the bag up on the counter and digs through it. Two sets of noise-muffling earpieces get set on the table, along with a small, de-clipped baretta. It's the smallest practical handgun he's got. The bag gets set aside, and he holds it up.

"Alright. First and foremost, guns aren't toys. They aren't the solution to your problems. They're weapons, and they're not something you should fuck around with lightly, understand?"

"I understand..." Dean's firmness sets her slightly on edge - she's not quite used to seeing that side of him directed her way, but she understands the gravity of the situation warrants it. Guns are tools designed to kill, with no other purpose - to treat them without proper respect and care is to invite disaster.

Her eyes drift over to the earmuffs Dean had set aside. "Are... are they really that loud...?"

It's true that he's kept the firmness toned down around her, but this? This is a serious matter, and she's gotta know just exactly how serious. She's a smart girl, though, so it doesn't take much before he's convinced that she's treating it with the right amount of levity.

He glances down at the earmuff and nods.

"You get used to it, but the acoustics in here? Tend to make it a little worse. Not to mention I don't want you scaring yourself into a bad shot."

They'll shove 'em on just as soon as he gets done being a walking, talking instructional video. He holds up a recangle, hollow but for the bullets carefully lined into it. "This is your magazine. It holds the bullets. What you're gonna wanna do is slide it into the chamber until it locks into place- like so."

He slides it in smoothly, there's a soft click as it sets.

He titls the gun to one side so she can see the top. "Holds one in the chamber, too, so always pull back and check to see if there's a live round before you pull the trigger. Just in case."

The top slides back to reveal the shiny, golden glint of metal. "And this? Is the safety. Gun doesn't fire when the safety's on. Safety's off, you're good to go. Any questions so far?"

Chihiro watches attentively as Dean goes through the motions, explaining how the gun works. She seems to absorb the information fairly well, despite her nervousness - she may not be very physical, but systemic things like the mechanical workings of the pistol and the safety precautions needed when using it are easy for her to make sense of.

"Hm... well... I've never fired a gun before, so... what's the recoil like? My arms aren't very strong, and I don't weigh very much... so I want to know what to expect..."

She's a smart girl, he figured she'd pick up the theoretical side with relative ease. The actual physical application, though? That's another matter entirely.

"Good question." He nods approvingly, shifts to show her a padded grip along the stock of the gun. "I'm not gonna lie to you, there is gonna be some, but it's not gonna be harsh. It's less than a nine millimeter pistol, and this grip's made of a gel that reduces it as much as possible, but you gotta make sure you're ready for the abrupt jerk. Keep your grip firm and your shoulders pointed. It's one of the smallest practical guns on the market, so someone your size ought to be able to handle it."

A beat.

"...Usually. We'll see how it goes, and if you can't take it, we'll try adjusting your stance a couple different ways, alright?"

One of the smallest practical guns on the market; perfect for one of the smallest people in Wonderland, to be sure.

"All right. My stance... I'm not really sure what the proper way to fire a gun is... you have to hold it with both hands, right?" It seems like an obvious question, but for someone who's seen guns used primarily in movies, where they are often dual-wielded or even held sideways, it might not be so clear.

"And... should I stand a certain way, maybe...?"

"Both hands, yeah. Just... ignore everything you ever saw on TV. Here- lemme show you." He presses the gun into her hands, adjusts the grip gently but professionally until she's holding it correctly. "Finger off the trigger until you're planning on shooting. Accidents happen, and accidents are never just accidents with a weapon."

He pulls back a second to look at her from a bit more distance.

"Alright, strengthen your stance. Try and put your feet about shoulder length apart, and raise your arms so that your writing hand's predominant. Lemme see what we got."

Chihiro nervously bites her lip as Dean's hands briefly overtake hers - they were strong hands, clearly at home grasped around a handgun, or clenched in a fist whilst speeding on its way toward the unwary jaw of some foe - a stark comparison to her own hands, with slender fingers more suited to the home row of a keyboard. That is, a small keyboard.

By the time Dean steps back, Chihiro's settled into something resembling a stance - her feet apart at shoulder-length, as they should be, but with the knees buckled inward slightly. She holds the gun out in front of her, not pointing it at anything in particular - her aim trends downward, as if she were actually struggling with the weight of it. Her finger, as instructed, is off the trigger.

"I'll try to be careful... is... is this good enough?"

He doesn't worry much, her hands may be small but her heart and brain are huge. He's got a best friend back home named Charlie, she's a hacker and a nerd and she's all things awesome in the world. She can shoot a gun better than half the damn population, and it's got nothing to do with the size of her hands.

He presses his lips together to hide a grimace at her stance. It's not... terrible, but it's definitely a beginner's stance. Not a lot of natural skill there, but that's alright. He's got faith in her, she'll pick it up. A hand passes over his mouth.

"It's... close." Is about the best he can say, and he reaches forward again to lift the gun higher. "Keep it pointed at the target, even if you're not shooting just yet. You don't want that thing going off anywhere but where you're pointing."

He steps back to circle her, shakes his head a little. "Bend your knees a little. Not a lot, just enough that when you pull the trigger, you ain't gonna be thrown backwards by any little recoil."

"Oh! Right..." She does what she's told, bending her knees and adjusting her aim. "If... if I'm too stiff, I won't be able to absorb the impact, right...? That makes sense..."

She raises her arms, trying to focus more on where the gun is pointed - and quickly spots the sights built into the handgun. Closing one eye, she lowers her head, trying to figure out how they align with little success. She clearly loses focus on maintaining her stance, hunched over in concentration, her mouth widening into her cheek.

His lips twitch in amusement and he nods. "Bingo."

He's got to shake his head a little at her concentration, at the way it takes over her posture. He's been a dad before, twice if you count the way he half-raised Sam, and it's not surprising that something about this whole exercise is tugging those protective feelings up something fierce.

After a second of watching her struggle, he ducks down to adjust her grip again. He raises it up more eye-level, until her shoulders are pointed out straight and long and sturdy. "Getting closer, keep your stance strong while you aim, try and keep it in focus."

The earmuffs get plucked up from the table. "On my signal, I want you to fire three rounds back to back into the target's chest, okay?"

And with those last words of advice, he settles the earmuffs on her head.

Chihiro lets out a little gasp when Dean's instructions snap her out of her brief fascination with the sights of the handgun. "Ah! I-I'm sorry..." She responds to his instructions, tightening up her stance, bringing the gun back up to eye level, and holding the position once Dean steps away. "On... on your signal... three rounds... in... into th-the target's..." When the earmuffs slide over her ears, she can't help but let out a small noise of surprise, but she quickly regains her focus.

She swallows nervously. "Into the chest..."

Her focus drifts away from the firearm in her hands and comes to rest on the human-shaped target some yards away, the concentric ovals clearly guiding one's aim toward the target's 'vital areas'.

"Three rounds," she says again, almost a whisper. The sound of her own heartbeat throbs in her ears as she awaits Dean's signal.

He shifts back to give her room, shoves his own set of earmuffs on his head. He's used to the sound of gunfire, but he's not used to the acoustics of this room, not familiar with how strong they are just yet, and to blow out an eardrum with sheer stupidity? Not exactly how he wants to spend his night.

He gives her a long moment to get herself together, to take in the sight of the target, to contemplate her shot, and after a long, tense beat of focus and heartbeats and stalling, he finally, gives her the go-ahead wave.

The first shot is at least in the vicinity of the chest area, hitting the target somewhere around the shoulder - the second shot is off the target completely, a few feet to the side of it.

The third shot doesn't come; by the time Chihiro should be firing the third round, countless shots are already going off in her mind, each one accompanied by the sickening, dull cracking sound of a bone breaking. Once she sees the first hole appear in the target, dozens more appear, countless wounds opening up as thin spears emerge from the target's body.

The episode is over as soon as it begins. Chihiro finds herself on her knees, clutching the handgun with her fingers off the trigger. The cold beads of sweat appearing on her face are broken by silent streams of tears, cascading down her face of their own accord as she draws quick, panicked breaths.

"I-I-I... I'm s-sorry... I... I'll... I'll t-try again..."

The first shot is actually pretty freaking good, and he perks up, proud and pleased and fully expecting that second one to be even closer to target. Accuracy usually increases with each subsequent shot in a three-round section, but that second one veers off to the right and sends mortar dusting out of the wall. It takes him nearly a second to realize the third shot isn't coming, and by that time she's falling to her knees.

"Jeez-" The syllable of surprise is out of his mouth before he can help it and he drops down to try and keep her from cracking her head on the damn floor or something. His headset gets tugged off with one hand, the other firmly supporting her shoulder.

As soon as they hit the floor, he tugs the gun gently from her hand and sets it on the counter above them. No accidental shootings on his watch.

"No, no, hey, hang on, you okay? Take a deep breath."

"I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..." It takes quite a while before she can do anything but repeat these words over and over. She runs a hand through her hair, trying to figure out what just happened. A hallucination? It was more like a memory - a very vivid memory, but only a memory.

Something about the way the shooting range is set up, about the sound of the gunshot, about her overactive imagination placing a real person in the place of the target - the conditions brought the memory of those few days at Hope's Peak Academy back to the front of her mind. She didn't have to imagine what the moment of a person's death is like; it may have been months ago, but that's not the kind of thing that one ever forgets about.

"I'm so sorry, Dean... I'm... I'm s-so weak..." Her breathing begins to slow down, as she regains enough composure to start wiping the tears from her eyes. "Killing someone... taking a life, even in self defense... I don't think I could ever..."

His lips pressed together in muted concern, and he glances between her and the target again. There's a neat hole in the chest of the paper, and it isn't hard to imagine a live person standing in that place. It's not hard to imagine the way blood would ooze from the wound and that look of shock a person always has when they realize they've been shot in the chest. The thing is, though, he's seen it. A hundred times, a thousand. He looks back at her, brow knitting a little.

Because something about the way she's acting makes him think maybe...

Maybe she has, too. He shakes his head slowly. "Nah, come on. We're done. We'll figure out something else. Plan B, huh?"

He pushes upright, tugs her up gently with him by a hand on her arm. As much as he thought she'd benefit from weapons training, maybe that just isn't the right way. No, with a reaction like this...

He'll come up with something better. He will. Just not right now. "Come on. Let's go get something to eat."

Hanging her head, Chihiro stands up, the weight of her shame crushing her from all sides. She was so sure that she'd put her time at Hope's Peak Academy behind her, and yet for such a thing to happen once she finally had an opportunity to get stronger - her disappointment with herself is immeasurable.

Grabbing Dean's sleeve, she sidles up to him, prepared to go wherever he takes her, and begins with a litany of apologies. "I'm so sorry for wasting your time, Dean..." She fights back her tears, avoiding eye contact with him; surely he's disappointed in her, after all, and the last thing she wants to see is the look of disappointment he doubtless wore. "I... I'm just... I'm too weak of a person... I'm weak... fundamentally weak... weak beyond weakness..."

He stops their walk right there at the edge of the doorway, turns to wrap a firm hand around either one of her shoulders. He hunches down a little, dropping so they can be a little more eye-level, and hits her with a serious look.

"Hey, don't say that. You are not weak. Killing a person doesn't make you strong, Chi, it just doesn't, just like not killing a person doesn't make you weak. There's a hell of alot more to power than the ability to take a life."

He turns again, guiding her forward with a gentle hand on her back. "We'll figure something else out. I got a few ideas. In the meantime, I got a cheeseburger recipe that'll knock your socks off."

"Cheeseburger recipe... that sounds nice..." His speech seems to have calmed her down somewhat. She dries her eyes, following behind him, wrapped up in her own thoughts.

"Dean... did I ever tell you about where I came from...?" Chihiro's circumstances before arriving at Wonderland has never been a common topic of conversation - even her conversations with Kirigiri have revolved primarily around their current situation. "I think... what I went through, there... that's what made me..." She trails off, knowing that Dean wouldn't appreciate her finishing that sentence with the word "fail", but finding herself unable to say something different.

He glances down at her as they go, steering her gently through the hallways so she can focus on composing herself. Their gait is slow, more of an amble than a walk.

"What're you talking about? I thought you came from, like, high school?"

Unless high schools are like secret code in her world for the Hunger Games or some shit.

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