I am so sorry for you
After a swift blow to the stomach, Spike stood on the forest floor, a meter or two from Zecora’s hut, holding his stomach and coughing up some blood.
“Get up, you wuss,” Kirabo told him as he stood above him.
“Uhhh...” Spike groaned in response.
“Get up! Quit wasting my time!” Kirabo shouted at Spike before “gently” kicking him in the back. “Get up!” he shouted again before delivering another kick, this one with a little more force behind it.
“Uhhh...” Spike groaned as he shifted around before finally resting on his behind.
“I don’t have time for this,” Kirabo told himself as he picked Spike up by his neck before letting him fall on his feet.
“Stand straight, kuruthu!” he shouted.
When Spike did not comply to the order, choosing instead to lean forwards and hold his aching stomach, Kirabo punched him in the snout, causing him to fell to his back again.
“Fine. I’ll make an exception and let you stand there. Now...” Spike interrupted him when he started sobbing from the pain.
“You have got to be kidding me. I have to train this? Great,” he muttered to himself.
He kicked Spike again, causing him to roll to his side, leaving his backside exposed. He bent down, grabbing Spike by the back of his neck and squeezing his fingers.
A loud cracking sound came from the place where Kirabo placed his hand. Spike screamed, and Kirabo let go.
“Now that I have moved part of your spinal column by putting pressure on your spinal cord, you should feel no more pain until I pop it back.”
Kirabo spoke the truth; Spike could not feel any pain coming from his stomach or from the places Kirabo kicked him. His nose still hurt, but Spike could feel that something was wrong. As soon as he realised just what that something was, he opened his eyes wide in shock and was about to scream when he found Kirabo’s hand firmly placed on his mouth, preventing him from doing so.
“But...” he told Spike. “It also causes full body paralysis. Just be quiet and listen to what I have to say, and I will pop it back and you will be as good as new. Nod if you agree.”
Spike nodded fiercely.
“Good,” Kirabo said as he removed his hand from the dragon’s mouth. “Now listen. Normally as a Black Sun kuruthu- a recruit- you would spend a week alone in the upper levels of Tartarus doing your best to to get killed by the natives. After that would come a recovery and indoctrination period, lasting between a week and a month, depending on how many times you escape certain death. Only after that would you start your training. But, unfortunately...”
“Unfortunately?” Spike’s mind went into panic mode at the hearing of this word. “I was supposed to spend a week fighting for my life in Tartarus, and now they have something worse planed for me?”
“Unfortunately Zecora asked that we speed thing up, and Imamu agreed,” Kirabo said, seemingly disappointed at the prospect of not watching Spike run for his life while being chased by all manners of abominations for a whole week. “So we are going to cram half a year’s worth of training into a week.”
“But...” Spike tried to object but only got a punch to the face for his trouble.
“I told you to be quiet,” Kirabo said, his fist slightly bloodied from breaking Spike’s nose. “Do not worry your squishy little head. It can be done, and Zecora decided to help with your training.”
“I’m going to tell it to you as it is. I do not envy you, heck, you wouldn’t catch me dead doing something like that when I was like you. So best of luck...” he reached for his neck, “you are going to need it,” Kirabo said as he popped his spine back in place.
A flood of built-up pain rushed to Spike’s brain, causing him to yell and scream as loudly as he could.
“Not one bit,” Kirabo added, but his words were not able to be heard by Spike over the sound of his screaming and crying. Kirabo disappeared into the Everfree, leaving Spike to lay screaming on the floor.
“What have I gotten myself into?” Spike’s mind managed to wonder in the brief moments where the pain seemed to die down, only for it to return greater than ever.
Two hours would pass before he could gather enough strength to pick himself up and walk the small distance that stood between him and Zecora’s home.
When he reached the door, he lifted his hand to knock, but a stray thought popped into his head and stopped him. In front of him, separated by a wooden door, stood only the prospect of a week filled with pain and anguish. The black and white striped harbinger of his misfortune was only a knock and a creaking door away. Spike gulped and reluctantly knocked on the door.