The leather was tight around your skin—almost suffocating, but you tolerated it. This was who you were now, this was what you had. Faction came before blood, and you had made your decision. You were Dauntless now, but the constant rush of adrenaline, the endless tests of bravery—it all made your head spin.

Damn it, you should’ve chosen Amity.

Eric had already briefed the transfers about the new rule: the cuts. Maybe if you had known, you wouldn’t have chosen Dauntless. But anything, anything to get away. You shake your head, banishing the thought as you tug at the collar of your black jacket, the heavy fabric scraping against your neck. There’s no turning back now.

The training room is filled with transfers, most of them from Candor, unsurprisingly. You had always thought that to be honest was to be brave, and it seems like a few people had the same idea. Two Erudite, and one Abnegation—they’re calling her a stiff. None of them look too friendly, though, but at least they’re nicer looking than your instructor.

He introduced himself as Four, which, to you, didn’t sound like a name that would be on Baby Names 101, but who were you to judge? It was more important that you made sure to not get on his bad side, because he looked like he could snap you in half like a twig.

“That move won’t work on someone stronger than you.” He’s decided to make his presence known by appearing behind you, and for some reason, he’s decided to finally help you with your form. His face is stern, and for some reason, it just feels like you’re back to where you came from.