After a quite shocking introduction, I summoned the men from their physical conditioning. The morning sun was beginning to bake the hard earth of the Cavite barracks, and sweat glistened on the brows of the veterans and the new transfers alike.
After a while, the eight men sat down on the dirt in a semi-circle as I instructed them to do. I called Kabo Anya to stand beside me. She did so without hesitation, her spine straight as a ramrod, her eyes scanning the seated men with a cool, unbothered gaze.
"Gentlemen," I began, my voice carrying over the quiet murmurs of the camp. "As you know, our unit has officially become a nine-man squad. Eight of you, and myself." I paused, letting my eyes sweep over Julian, Pasco, Sanchez, Roberto, and the four new faces—Miguel, Mateo, Tomas, and Andres. "But today, we welcome a new addition to our ranks. And it is not a he. It is a she. Please, introduce yourself."
Anya gave a sharp, professional nod and spoke. Her voice wasn't loud, but it possessed a quiet authority that cut through the humid morning air.
"Kabo Anya Mikhaila Reyes. That is my name."
As she finished speaking, Julian's eyes glazed over. He was practically fawning over her beauty, his mouth hanging open slightly as he took in her sharp features and light hair.
Seeing his wandering mind, I didn't hesitate. I snatched up a dry bamboo stick from the ground and flicked it accurately at his forehead.
Clack!
"Julian! First day and you're already falling into daydreams! Focus, man!"
The clearing instantly erupted into laughter. The tension that usually came with a new transfer evaporated as the men roared, pointing at a red-faced Julian rubbing his forehead.
"But Sarhento," Julian stammered, trying to defend himself. "She's just... you know..."
"What?" I challenged with a raised eyebrow. "She is a soldier. More than that, she is your Kabo, and she will be my second-in-command. If anyone here has a question or an objection about that, speak up right now."
Silence fell over the clearing. No one spoke.
"Good," I continued, pacing slowly in front of them. "Just so we are clear: rank in this squad does not follow gender. It is based on merit, on your achievements, and on your discipline. If you have what it takes, you can rise through the ranks just the same. And I want all of you to know that this woman here earned her stripes on her own. No family connections, no wealthy backing, no shortcuts. Pure merit. Which is why we are going to let her showcase her skills in marksmanship and hand-to-hand combat today."
The men began to murmur among themselves. The veterans looked curious, while the four new transfers exchanged skeptical glances. A female NCO was unheard of in their old units.
~~
Shooting session.
The men quickly arranged the makeshift range. They mounted three battered metal pans on wooden posts, spacing them ten meters apart in the tall grass. The pans were dented and rusted—relics of past drills. All eight soldiers took their positions in a neat line, watching silently.
I racked the bolt of a captured rifle and handed it to Anya. "You may begin, Corporal. Shoot when ready."
She took the rifle. Her grip was practiced and effortless. She lifted the heavy wooden stock to her shoulder, her cheek pressing against the wood. Her eyes narrowed as she sighted the first pan. I watched her breathing—a slow, deep breath in, a partial exhale, and then a complete freeze as she adjusted her aim.
PANG!
The muzzle flashed, and the first metal pan spun violently on its post, ringing sharply across the field.
Without breaking her rhythm or dropping the rifle from her shoulder, she cycled the bolt. The brass casing ejected with a metallic flick. She shifted her stance, dropping into a slight crouch to calibrate for the wind, and sighted the second pan.
PANG!
Another clean hit. The pan clattered against the wood. She immediately shifted to the third. The heavy barrel rose, tracking smoothly. She breathed out, pulled the trigger, and—
PANG!
The third pan clanged perfectly, spinning so hard it nearly flew off the post.
The entire squad watched in stunned silence. Julian's jaw tightened as he realized she wasn't just a pretty face; Pasco let out a low, impressed whistle. Sanchez nodded appreciatively, his arms crossed. Roberto, leaning on his bandaged leg, gave a small, knowing smile. The four new soldados—Miguel, Mateo, Tomas, and Andres—exchanged wide-eyed glances, their skepticism replaced by grudging admiration.
A heavy, respectful silence settled over the squad. Anya hadn't just hit the targets; she had destroyed them with a surgical, mechanical precision that most of the men couldn't replicate on their best days.
I clapped my hands lightly, breaking the spell. "As you can see, Kabo Anya has been around since the war against the Spanish. That is a serious amount of combat experience."
The new transfers' jaws dropped. "WHAT?!" they whispered in unison. To them, she looked far too young to be a veteran of the 1896 revolution.
~~
Behind the tents, the men quickly cleared a small, circular area for close-quarters training. The ground was uneven, a mess of dry grass and loose dirt, but it would serve its purpose.
I stepped forward into the center of the ring, crossing my arms over my chest. "Alright, everyone. Marksmanship is one thing. Let's see how well Kabo Anya handles close-quarters combat. Who among you is willing to spar with her?"
Absolute silence.
I raised an eyebrow, scanning the squad. The men shifted their weight, suddenly finding the dirt very interesting. No one wanted to be the guy who got beat by a woman, but they were also afraid of hurting her. They hesitated... until one man finally stepped forward.
Pasco.
He smirked nervously, rolling his shoulders to loosen his muscles. "I'll give it a shot, Sarhento. For science."
Anya tilted her head slightly, her calm, unbothered gaze locked onto him. She didn't drop into a heavy, aggressive stance. She just stood light on the balls of her feet. "Very well, Soldado Pasco. Whenever you are ready."
The two squared off. Pasco lunged first, throwing a cautious, probing jab. Anya sidestepped it with effortless ease. Her movements were fluid and measured. Pasco tried to press her, throwing a flurry of punches. Anya parried each one, her footwork tracing smooth arcs in the dirt. She read his weight shifts perfectly. When Pasco overcommitted to a heavy swing, Anya stepped inside his guard. With a low, sweeping kick to his ankle and a palm strike to his chest, she used his own momentum against him.
Pasco went stumbling backward, his arms flailing before he landed flat on his backside in the soft dirt.
The squad erupted. Some chuckles broke out, while others shook their heads in disbelief. Miguel, Mateo, Tomas, and Andres were staring, their mouths hanging open.
I stepped forward, a grin breaking my usual stoic expression. "Lesson learned, gentlemen. Never underestimate a Kabo."
Pasco groaned, brushing the dirt off his trousers as he sat up. "Alright, alright... I get it. She's lethal."
Anya didn't gloat. She simply nodded and offered him a calloused hand, hauling him back to his feet. The respect between them was unspoken, but absolute.
"I would like to try!" a voice rang out.
It was Julian. He stepped forward, rubbing the back of his neck. There was no lust in his eyes this time—only a mix of determination, embarrassment, and raw curiosity. He wanted to see if he could do better.
I glanced at Anya, who gave me a faint, amused smirk. I shrugged. "Alright, Julian. Go ahead. Show us what you've got."
Julian assumed a textbook boxing stance, circling her cautiously. The rest of the squad gathered closer, murmuring encouragement to their comrade.
The sparring started slowly. Julian struck first with a series of quick, straight jabs, using his superior reach. Anya blocked each one with mechanical precision, moving lightly on her feet like a dancer. Julian pressed forward, getting aggressive. He feinted left and swung right, but Anya read the motion. She ducked under his arm, redirecting his force.
Minutes passed. The exchange grew faster, more intense. Julian was breathing hard, forced to think and react in ways he never had to in traditional military drills. Every opening he tried to exploit was slammed shut. Finally, as Julian lunged forward for a grapple, Anya pivoted on her heel. Catching his outstretched arm, she twisted his wrist into a controlled joint lock and swept his leg out from under him.
In a flash, she pressed him gently but firmly face-first into the dirt, his own arm locked painfully behind his back. Julian froze, his breath catching as he realized he was completely paralyzed. He couldn't move an inch without breaking his own elbow.
The squad let out a low, collective whistle. Pasco laughed from the sidelines. The new transfers looked at each other, whispering furiously.
Julian groaned into the dirt, tapping his free hand on the ground. "Okay... okay! Uncle! You win, Kabo!"
Anya released the lock immediately, stepping back and offering him a small nod of acknowledgment as he pushed himself up.
I clapped my hands, bringing the squad's attention back to me. "Lesson learned again, gentlemen. Discipline, patience, and control. That is how she dominates the field. Any questions?"
Julian brushed himself off, his ego bruised but his respect skyrocketing. "No... I mean, yes, sir. I'll remember this."
"Yes, Sarge!" the squad echoed in unison. Their voices were loud and unified this time. Anya was officially one of them now.
~~
I nodded at the squad. "Alright, that's enough for the morning. Everyone, resume your duties. Stay sharp, and keep practicing these maneuvers on your own time."
One by one, the men dispersed. Miguel, Mateo, Tomas, and Andres returned to the supply tents, talking animatedly about the joint lock they had just witnessed. Julian and Pasco lingered briefly to wipe down their rifles before heading off.
The training clearing slowly emptied, leaving only Anya and me standing in the long shadows of the canvas tents.
She tilted her head, her sharp eyes studying me carefully. "Sarhento," she said softly, her voice dropping to a confidential tone. "Why did you... go through all of this?"
I wiped sweat from my forehead, leaning against a wooden tent post. "Do what?"
"All of it. The shooting tests, the sparring matches... especially letting me demonstrate my skills so publicly. In any other unit, a Sergeant would just bark an order and tell everyone to fall in line, woman or not."
I smiled faintly, watching the dust settle in the clearing. "Because I don't lead by fear, Anya. And I don't believe in blind obedience. I want my squad to understand one fundamental truth—everyone has value, and everyone must be capable. If someone in this squad can do something better than me, I need to know it. And if they can teach it to the others, even better."
She nodded slowly, absorbing the philosophy. "So it is... a way of showing trust?"
"Partly," I admitted. "And partly to see how the men react under pressure. Raw skill without emotional control means nothing in a firefight. I need to know who can think when things get chaotic. That is part of the lesson I want to instil, respect and trust."
Anya's eyes softened, but a spark of curiosity remained. "And me? Am I supposed to teach them too?"
"You already are," I said simply. "By example. That is what true leaders do."
A brief silence followed. She glanced toward the men scattered across the busy camp, then back at me. "I see. I think I understand your methods now."
I gave a small shrug. "Good. Just don't forget—it's not about showing off. It's about pulling everyone up together. I know it isn't how things are traditionally done in the military, but this is how I nurture the people under my command."
She smiled, a genuine, warm expression that crinkled the edges of her eyes. "You know... now I see why the other soldiers look at you as a strange man. You really do things differently than any officer I've ever met, Valerian."
I chuckled, pushing off the wooden post. "Is that a compliment, Kabo?"
"The highest one I can give," she replied, snapping a crisp salute before turning to follow the men.