No, thanks. I’m not here to entertain anyone. Messiah shook his head curtly and took a step back.

“What? You sure?” Atlas chuckled, his grey brows lifting in a taunt as he added, “Are you scared you’ll be thrown to the ground like those other high and mighty Dispatch Sentinels?”

Off to the side, Cinders let out a disgruntled huff. The others had all turned their heads to stare, too, and a few began to whisper to each other.

He wasn’t about to be influenced by such a petty taunt, but Messiah paused to process some calculations. If he refused, he would spare himself the tedious effort of wrestling for no apparent reason. The probability that anyone would believe he’d backed away out of fear was very low – he was Generation Zero, Codename Messiah, and more importantly, he looked very intimidating.

If he agreed, then he would fight Lamb. He would be able to collect more data to answer the surprising questions that had appeared after his earlier predictions had gone wrong. Why was a Sentinel in the Civilian Team capable of defeating a Dispatch Sentinel? Why was Lamb able to maneuver with such precision without any visual stimulus? Was his blindfold really inhibiting his vision? Was Ypsilon’s newest Sentinel more advanced in some way?

After a moment of careful thought, Messiah stepped forward. Answering those questions would benefit him more than the temporary relief of being lazy, he decided.

“Attaboy…”

Ignoring Atlas’s smug grin, Messiah walked up to the edge of the mat, where he kicked off his shoes and dragged his jacket off. The others had turned to each other with hushed murmurs – he blocked out the noise, having no interest in eavesdropping on rumors that he had been hearing all day already. No doubt, they were merely gawking at his presence. Rolling a simple hair tie out of his black sleeves, he slowly combed the waist-long strands of his hair back and eyed his opponent in the silence.

Lamb’s breathing had slowed now, and he had transitioned from a squat into a sit. He was leaning back on his arms, head tilted back and mouth open, chest heaving in deep, loud breaths. Conscious breathing, Messiah noted… he was taking in as much air as possible in between fights. His skin was very pale, almost white in the bright gymnasium lighting, but his cheeks were flushed with energy beneath his blindfolds, and his lips were red and glistening with moisture from his breath. At some point, the boy’s breath hiccupped, and his pale throat bobbed in a sturdy gulp.

… He wasn’t picking up unnecessary details, not at all. This was all part of analyzing his opponent. If he was going use this much effort, then the least he could do was learn as much about Lamb as possible. Finishing with his hair, Messiah stretched his arms a little, and then stepped onto the mat.

Lamb stiffened as he felt the mat sink, then crawled forward onto his hands and knees. But before the boy could get up, Messiah knelt down, reached out a hand, and nudged the boy’s forehead back so he could get a clear view of Lamb’s blindfold.

They’re thick… he really shouldn’t be able to see through these.

Lamb’s head tilted in confusion, and Messiah released him with a quiet mutter. “For your own sake, don’t punch too hard.”

It was because he was masked, and an unprepared fist against his metal face could seriously hurt. But Lamb, apparently interpreting it as a taunt, scowled beneath his blindfold. Sighing to himself, Messiah rose to his feet and watched as Lamb leapt up as well, looking fired up as he dropped into ready position right away.

He appears to possess hot-headed and stupid traits. Messiah sighed inwardly as he heard the others begin their three-two-one chant. What a pain…

“Go –!”

Lamb darted forward, his light footsteps muffled by the cheering of their audience. Remembering what Cinders had done, Messiah hung back too, focusing closely on the boy’s run as he prepared for a kick from the right.

He’s running in an arc… Messiah noted carefully. That lets him dodge a direct blow from the front, which is what most opponents would start off with – and while they’re floundering from their missed blow, he kicks them from the side, just behind their back, and knocks them down. It was a reckless move that he’d never attempt to mimic, himself. He has to be confident that he’ll be faster than the opponent, or he’ll simply get smashed in the face.

But the boy was fast – even with his processing power, Messiah barely had enough time to calculate where the kick was going to land. Lifting his arm just in time, he felt the ball of Lamb’s foot strike his palm with a firm power that resonated up through his shoulder. Then, just as the boy had done with Cinders, Lamb pulled his foot down and jumped into an immediate full-swing kick with his other leg.

Messiah blocked that one too, stepping back a little to give the boy room to continue. He wanted to assess these attacks a little further. The bottom of Lamb’s feet, worn from all the blows, was flushed a bright red, and his skin felt slightly cool to the touch against Messiah’s arm. He kicked with great form… striking high, bending his joints swiftly, and following through the momentum with exquisite fluidity. Lamb's loose white shorts were slipping back from his continuous kicks, exposing the pale flesh of his thighs and a bit of his dark grey briefs… and more importantly, he didn’t seem at all discouraged that his repeated kicks were being consistently blocked.

Reckless… Messiah frowned disapprovingly to himself. The more he repeats his actions, the more likely the opponent will learn how to read him. Just like this – easily predicting Lamb’s next move, Messiah lifted his arms and wrapped his hands firmly around the boy’s ankle as it struck his palms. As his fingers wrapped around the entire circumference of the boy’s ankle, he hesitated for a split second.

They feel so delicate…

Then, he yanked his arms down and hurled Lamb into the floor.

Instead of a messy splat, the boy dove into the mats with a soft thud and sprang back up instantly again. Messiah had managed to catch a quick glimpse of what had happened – Lamb’s arms had been tucked beneath his chest, and his palms had touched the mats first, allowing him to easily push himself back up.

He continued attacking given the opportunity, but knew I would counter eventually, and prepared for it. That’s a lot of things to think about at once… can he do it in a real fight?

Having recovered with his back turned, Lamb whirled around with his arm outstretched in a whip-like blow aimed at the height of an average opponent’s neck. Messiah blocked the blow from the right, grunted a little as he felt raw force tingle down his forearm, then saw the boy’s foot rushing at his head from the left and hurriedly jerked backwards to dodge it. The boy’s heel hurtled through the air just millimeters from his chin and left behind a pleasant, slightly milky breeze.

Left with the powerful momentum of his missed kick, Lamb transitioned the motion into a jump, twisting his body and hurtling his other foot around in an airborne spin-kick. The aim was a little bit off, since Messiah had already pulled back once, and it didn’t take much more than a quick duck for the blow to miss.

Those are very flashy moves, Messiah observed. If Lamb had followed up on that first kick with a simple, fast punch, he might have been able to force an opening. He’s just having fun, isn’t he? Oh well… I suppose that’s what this is supposed to be.

Landing on both feet, Lamb paused and turned his blindfolded face towards Messiah. “I don’t think I’ve fought you before.” His voice was breathless from effort, but sweet with excitement. “You’re pretty good.”

Pretty good? Messiah felt a cold thrill run through the back of his head – it had been a long time since he’d felt anything there. You have no idea who you’re talking to, do you? Deciding to test the boy a little further, he curled his fingers into fists, and hurled his arm forward.

He’d aimed straight at Lamb’s head, admittedly not at full strength, since something about punching a blindfolded person in the face felt wrong – but at the speed that Lamb had moved, the boy would have dodged it either way. Messiah’s punch struck empty air, and he quickly pulled away to evade a counter-blow to his left shoulder. He then proceeded with a very basic punch combo aimed at the boy’s upper chest – Lamb deflected the first, blocked the second with his arm, and then the third time, managed to grab Messiah’s fist. The boy stumbled back from absorbing the full momentum of the punch but was able to stay on his feet, and quickly twisted Messiah’s arm to the side.

Resisting the off-balance attempt with brute force, Messiah took advantage of Lucas’s tight grip on his hand to perform a counter-twist. A split-second too slow to let go, Lamb instead jumped wholeheartedly into the spin. They parted half-way, and as soon as the boy landed, Messiah aimed a kick at a momentary opening in the boy’s abdomen. Somehow, Lamb predicted his blow and was able to quickly throw his arm out front. The boy was pushed back again, his arm extending outwards in an instinctive attempt to balance himself – seeing that, Messiah tried to grab the boy’s arm, but spotted a blur shooting at him from the side and had to leap aside to dodge the blow from Lamb’s free hand.

That left them nearly back-to-back – whirling around, Messiah tried to throw a quick blow at the boy’s waist, but his arm was caught by a similar counter-attack. They paused for a moment there, forearms locked and breathing into each other’s faces.

… His defense is very clean. Much cleaner than when he was fighting Cinders. Messiah narrowed his eyes warily at the boy’s blindfold. It was already impressive back then, too… is he able to see through the blindfold somehow?

He hadn’t intended on putting in any more effort than this, but Messiah felt the sudden need to answer his doubt. Pulling away from the deadlock, he took a moment to assess the positioning of Lamb’s body, and then decided to throw a punch at the boy’s right cheek.

Or at least, it would look like one. It had been a feint – he had shifted his body weight to the right and thrust his arm forward in a quick half-punch, enough to create some noise and send a gust of air in the direction. Lamb flinched away to the left, into Messiah’s second feint, then flinched back a half-second too late, and ultimately lifted both his arms defensively to his face in an obvious fluster.

He really can’t see, huh? The boy had been completely caught off guard by his feints. Satisfied with his investigation, Messiah stepped forward and – while Lamb was scrunched up protectively – wrapped his arms around the boy’s torso.

It was not a hug – it may have seemed like a hug, as for a split second it did align with the physical definition of a hug, and from the way Lamb froze, the boy probably thought the same thing – but it was not a hug, and Messiah quickly proved that to everyone watching.

 Swiftly, he thrust his foot between the boy’s left ankle and hooked it forward, off the ground.

As Lamb lurched back, his fist flung outwards in what seemed like blind instinct. As his knuckles scraped off of the side of Messiah’s mask, his half-curled fingers dug into the man’s hair, catching and tugging a thick strand of his hair loose as they fell, together.

They landed with a muffled two-layered thump on the grey mats. The gymnasium was filled with only the sound of their heavy pants for a while.

The boy’s weight was surprisingly heavy against his arm. Sliding it out from beneath Lamb, Messiah propped himself up and then reached up to Lamb’s hand, which was still tangled limply in his hair. As his gloved hand grabbed the boy's fingers and began to ease them out, the boy twitched and jerked away with a gasp, tugging a few feathery strands of white hair with him. 

Pain shot jaggedly through his scalp and Messiah winced. In the darkness beneath his closed eyes, he felt a slight throb of irritation.

Even an ordinary human would have enough common sense not to yank on someone’s hair like that. What is wrong with him?

Feeling the need to teach this piece of logic thoroughly to the boy, so that it wouldn’t happen again, Messiah opened his eyes. But as the colours of the world flooded back into his brain, something malfunctioned, and he promptly lost all records of his previous thought.

Like the silhouette of a soft blue moon in a pure cerulean sky, the boy’s wide irises filled his vision with their glimmering mess of emotions – shock, fear, awe, and other feelings that Messiah didn’t know how to recognize, shimmering in the vibrant colours of his eyes. Difficult to tell from afar, but unmistakeable up close – Lamb’s eyes were two slightly different shades of blue. Coated in moisture and reflecting the gymnasium lights, they twinkled like gemstones – and within them, Messiah saw his own face. A dark, cold sheet of metal, swimming ominously beneath the sparkles.