It was a few weeks since my first day of training.

Jimin had written up an accelerated training plan and given it to Yoongi. Between the two of them, they pushed my body to the limit almost every day to build up my endurance. The first week had probably been the most brutal and at times I'd borderline resented the two Outworlder trainers for making my body feel worse than day 1 of period cramps.

I was slowly progressing nevertheless. I was a fast learner as Yoongi put it and even he was impressed at how quickly I was catching on to his instructions. He still ensured to keep me humble by candidly reminding me I was still nowhere close to engaging in actual combat.

For the most part, it was focusing on building my muscles and self-defense. There were a few days that either Yoongi or Jimin taught me more offensive moves. Yoongi even took me to the training center's shooting range to practice with a gun for a couple days. I wasn't too bad of a shot but it made my skin prickle to imagine in a real-life scenario, a wooden target wouldn't be what I would shoot at.

At the end of the third week, Yoongi had relented and admitted that if someone tried picking a fight on me I'd definitely give them more hell than it was worth. I was still debating if that was an insult or a compliment.

Meanwhile, as the weeks passed, the outside world sank into turmoil. More and more cases of Outworlders were found dead in the streets, covered in blood and the lethal corrosive substance that people were starting to call Moonsbane.

While technically the Infinity Council had declared the Pure Reformists criminalized with the penalty of minimum 30 years in prison for anyone caught being part of the group, more and more humans were siding with the Reformists.

It was becoming too dangerous for Outworlders to be outside without jeers or possibly violence. In fact, Jimin and the other Outworlders had begun morphing into something small and inconspicuous whenever they went somewhere to avoid being the next victim of the Reformists.

When I walked along the streets of the city now, there was hardly an Outworlder in sight. Humans became bold and openly cursed the extraterrestrials in public. It was all I could do to keep my head down and walk.

One day had been especially terrible when a man began yelling and stirring a crowd of pedestrians along the street.

"Is it not relieving with none of those marked fiends scuttling around our city?" He'd yelled. A growing crowd of people had circled him, listening with bright eager eyes. "I missed this. This, this, is how it used to be, do you remember? Just us humans. The city belonged to us. The country belonged to us. The world belonged to us. I say we all join the Reformists and chase out these alien invaders once and for all!"

The crowd had begun cheering. As I edged around the people to get to the other side, I'd caught sight of a policeman. According the Infinity Council's order, anyone who openly supported the Reformists was supposed to be fined. But the police officer had been cheering along with the crowds, a hateful grin twisted on his face.

I'd arrived at the training center in a sour mood.

Today Jimin was the one training me. His head snapped up from where he was sitting on the floor the moment I literally kicked the door open rather viciously.

"Uh-oh," he muttered as I stormed in. "What happened this time partner?"

When I explained about the man and the crowd jeering Jimin's mouth thinned a little, but as usual he remained calm. "What else can you expect in the tense times we're living in?"

I shook my head. "It's so unfair! Why are so many humans against having you here? You guys have literally done nothing wrong except... except..."

"Invade your world," Jimin finished.

"But it's not your fault. You guys are just trying to save your race. You told me a while ago how Outworlders have nowhere else to go."

He shrugged. "The humans don't care. They don't care what the cost might be for their happiness as long as they're happy in the end."

I realized he had a clipboard in his lap where he'd scribbling something down. Jimin trained me during his breaks and guilt dug into me knowing that instead of relaxing and unwinding between training classes, he was using this time to help me. And even then sometimes he'd make me run laps while he finished recruit paperwork and training plans.

He already had enough on his plate with both his classes as well as my private lessons. Now I was just dumping all my problems and anger on him too.

"Do you want to punch out some of your rage?" The question might've been taken humorously, but he was dead serious. "You're getting pretty good at packing some power and aim behind your strikes."

"Thanks." I hugged myself. "But I can tell you're busy. I'll run some suicides and get out my anger that way while you finish your paperwork."

Jimin's expression softened and he patted the ground beside him. "Here. Just sit with me for a bit, yeah? You've been training pretty hard for the past few days. You can afford sitting for ten minutes of your training time."

I hesitated.

His eyes sparkled. "Unless of course you'd love to run suicides. I wouldn't mind watching you gasping for breath either."

I exhaled and crossed over the floor. He winced but remained amused as I plopped down beside him, shoving him roughly in the process. "You're impossible," I muttered.

Then I curled into his side, resting my head on his shoulder. Already I could feel some of my dark rage dissipating in his light presence. For a little bit I just closed my eyes and listened the scratch of pencil against paper as he worked away. It was a surprisingly comforting sound.

Finally I opened my eyes. "Jimin?"

He hummed in response.

"What does it mean that you're classified as exclusive?"

He paused.

I pressed on. "Are all of you— Namjoon, Jin, Yoongi, everyone— classified as exclusive?"

Jimin slowly nodded. "That's right." He set down the clipboard and ran a hand through his hair. "It's a bit complicated." It took him a few moments to find his words. "We're... like a subspecies of Outworlders."

I lifted my head at that and gazed in wonder as he continued.

"For Outworlders, you're either an Outworlder, or an Exclusive Outworlder. As an Exclusive, people often like to say that we have "warrior blood" coursing through our veins. We're stronger than an average Outworlder, both physically and in our morphing capabilities."

"Is that why you guys have to morph more on Earth?" I could feel a soft clicking in my head as I slowly began connecting the dots. "Is that why your training is more tedious than the average Outworlder?"

He nodded. "That's right. Our training is more intense because we have a much higher potential to fulfill with our skillset. The moment you're identified as an Exclusive, you're basically shipped off to the military without further ado."

So that's why he'd been so young when he began training.

"Exclusives are often viewed as expendable in other Outworlders' eyes," said Jimin, a shadow draping across his face. "We're like the stronger but expendable character to use in a video game."

I ran my fingers across his back soothingly. "You're not expendable, Jimin."

The corners of his mouth twitched a little and the shadow that had crossed his face disappeared.

"That's how I met those guys," he murmured, referring to the six Outworlder companions who I'd been slowly getting to know over the weeks. "We're all Exclusives. But we all want to be more than just our 'classification'. That's why Namjoon studies science instead of being a 'ruthless Exclusive soldier'. That's why Hoseok is such a kind soul, because he wants to prove that Exclusives doesn't mean merciless. We all want to prove ourselves beyond the stereotypes and labels that have been put on us."

I smiled. "I'm glad you have each other."

He nodded, looking down at his hands. "I don't know what I'd do without a single one of them."

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