Vincent perked up at the name Illustrious. So, the kid had the same last name as the headmaster. No wonder they had similar energy. Plus, he was a magician, which meant he could use magic, whatever that meant. Sparks from wands, moving objects with the mind, reciting words and making water part, perhaps?

Mr. B let out a long sigh, then turned to the kid that was sitting playing cards with Mizuki earlier. The kid jumped up, his blonde hair whipping about, his shimmering green eyes full of delight. He tensed up and focused for a moment, then changed, much like Mr. B had changed earlier, except his change happened in what looked like a poof of smoke.  

A blonde-hair, oddly-proportioned Mr. B stood in his place. It was wrong, so wrong, but enough of a change to notice that it somewhat resembled their teacher. The kid smiled as if he had pulled off something amazing.

“You there,” the fake Mr. B said in an accusatory tone that was off as it was a mixture of the kid’s squeaky voice and Mr. B’s baritone. “You can’t just go around impersonating teachers. The punishment for that is death!” The fake Mr. B beamed with confidence as if pulling off something stunning. It wasn’t.

Mr. B frowned.

“Well,” the kid said, shrugging his defeat, a poof of smoke returning him to his regular self. “It was worth a try, I suppose.” The small kid rubbed a hand through his hair, smiling like a little trickster.

“I’m Max Miller,” he said. “I’m a twinzer, which means I can shapeshift into anything I want to, at any time. So be on the lookout, as you may run into yourself someday.” He snickered at his little joke, winking at Mizuki in a cringey fashion.

Mizuki pulled at the bottom of one of her eyes, stretching it out, and stuck her tongue out at him. 

“My goal by the end of year,” he continued, lifting his hands in front of him and moving his fingers inward as if grasping a ball with a mischievous grin. “Is to be able to shapeshift into the perfect female form and look at myself naked.”

It was one thing to have some perverted thoughts, to check out cute girls and think certain things, to discover naughty things on the net that involved the female form. But to say something out loud so brazen was social suicide.  

Mr. B narrowed his eyes on Max. “If I catch you doing that,” he said with a disapproving tone, “being expelled will be the least of your worries, son.”

Max gave a little shrug and slumped back down in his seat as if this was normal for him.   

Vincent felt his body tense as Mr. B turned to him.

“Finally, we have you, son. Tell us about yourself, and what you hope to achieve this year.”

Vincent had no idea what to say, so he just awkwardly stood at the ready and saluted. “Sir, yes sir.” This probably wasn’t the right move, which was apparent from the reactions that included smiles and giggles. Nerves had always gotten the best of him in this way.

When the pressure was on, anxiety going wild, he’d always crumble, forgetting simple things, and acting like a complete idiot, doing random and rash things without thinking, like he had just done now. His face hot and beading with sweat, he wasn’t sure if he should sit back down or continue speaking in his standing position

What he wanted to say was that he needed time to adjust to this. He was so frustrated, angry, lost, confused, and feeling a flurry of other emotions at this moment.

“I’m Vincent Black,” he said, shifting nervously, his hands fiddling inside his pockets. “I’m a… a…” He couldn’t get the words out, feeling a knot in his chest as he cleared a dry throat and tried again. “I’m a werewolf.” It was weird saying it, because while he didn’t want to believe it, some part of him knew it was true. “My goal is, uh…” He wanted nothing more than to leave, go home and curl up into a ball and cry. He gripped the top of his chair. “To find out more about myself and this crazy world of… monsters. Because that’s what I am. A monster that will lose control to his own nature, right?”

He stared down at his hands gripping his chair, lost in the thought of this idea, this new world, this thing he was to become.

“We’re all monsters, bro,” Alacard said, leaning back. “Just embrace it.”

Mr. B frowned at Alacard, then placed a hand against Vincent’s shoulder, his voice supportive. “That may be what you think now, but it’s not what you will become. Not if I have anything to do with it.” He gave Vincent a reassuring nod, then stepped back and addressed the class.

“This first year will be hard,” he said in his booming voice. “It will challenge you, toughen you up. And it all starts with learning the fundamentals. It’s not just about living under the guise of humans, protecting them from the shadows, but about finding your own footing as a being in the world.”

He folded his arms and leaned back on his desk. “You may find yourself resentful for all the work you have to do on top of your regular classes, thinking how it would be so much easier to not be a supernatural being. And you’re right, in a way. It will be hard. But if you dedicate yourself and give me your complete focus, I promise to do everything I can to help you improve and grow.” He let them ponder that for a moment before speaking again. “That’s it for today. The rest of the period is free to do what you will.” And he left.

Alacard watched him leave, then let out a scoff. “What a lame lesson.”

Vincent felt his jaw clench, finding it hard to keep to himself. “No, you’re the lame one,” he said, under his breath. Which was stupid on his part, because he was dealing with supernatural beings with supernatural hearing.

“Did you say something, chump?” Alacard said, leaning in his direction.

Vincent didn’t want any trouble, or did he? He thought to himself for a moment, bouncing one of his legs against the ground now that he was sitting, his hands clenched as felt a mixture of anxiety and anger.

He turned to Alacard. “I said you’re lame.”

Vincent wasn’t sure why he was rising to the challenge instead of just backing down and keeping quiet like all the other times in the past. He certainly didn’t want to get himself in trouble, or have a situation that led to him getting expelled like he was when he was a kid. Then again, everything had changed today. Everything was different. This punk kid was also a supernatural being. A werewolf, just like him. So, he wasn’t going to just sit there and be pushed around by this punk.

“You talk a big game, chump,” Alacard said with a raised eyebrow. “But can you back it up?”

There was no way Vincent was going to back down at this point, especially since he felt this inner urge pushing him to move forward, to stand his ground, to fight.

“I’ll do whatever I need to,” Vincent said with a confident grin. “Because the only thing I see is a punk bully that acts tough but is just broken on the inside.” Yikes. Why was he stirring the pot like this? While there was a voice inside screaming for him to stop, there was another much more pronounced voice telling him to keep at it, to stay strong, to bite down and never let go.

“Oh, do you now,” Alacard said with an intense look of his own. “Well, chump,” he said, emphasizing the word chump, “Keep talking like that, and see what happens.”         

Vincent felt the tension get palpable, and while he felt a rising fear, he also felt a willingness to lunge forward and fight. He wasn’t going to back down. Not now, not ever again. This feeling, whatever it was, was… invigorating! And so, he pushed forward.

“Sounds like something a punk would say,” Vincent said.

Alacard ground his teeth as he seethed and looked ready to jump out of his seat and pounce on Vincent.

Vincent readied himself for a fight, not sure why he kept pushing forward. Yet for the first time in his life, he relished the moment. 

“I’ll show you who’s the punk, chump,” Alacard said, slamming a palm down on his desk and pushing himself to his feet.

Vincent watched him, wondering what he was going to do. Would he fling more insults at him, or something else? He tensed himself, ready for whatever.

Alacard simply lifted his desk as if it was a small book and tossed it into a far corner of the room where several other empty desks were, the feat causing a ruckus of clattering desks and debris and dust.

With a gleeful smile and a cracking of his knuckles he narrowed his eyes on Vincent, saying, “I’m gonna kick your ass.” Then, he let out a growl and lunged forward with ferocity.

Vincent leaned forward, feeling a fierce energy of his own as his instincts kicked into gear, his fists raised, his body tense, his eyes ready.

Before they could meet each other, Mizuki burst forward, cutting between them, a palm pushed against each of their chests. With a solid shove, she knocked them both back, her strength undeniable as they both slid backward. There was even a slight heat applied to her that made Vincent jump back as if touching a hot stove.

Ouch, She’s fast! Vincent thought as he rubbed his chest, wondering if a burn mark would remain. And strong. That would be his second bruise for the day, and yet… while she had hit him hard and applied quite the heat, it should’ve have hurt more, right? And the slap from Mr. B earlier didn’t seem like it was tender anymore. Perhaps it had something to do with his new werewolf being.

“What are you doing, crazy girl?” Alacard snarled with a swipe of his hand, fury in his wide eyes. “Get out of my way, or I’ll pound you too.”

“Only thing you’re pounding is your own meat, wolf boy,” Mizuki said with a toothy smirk. She then lifted a clenched fist, smoke rising from it. “Oh, and call me crazy again and see what happens?” Vincent couldn’t tell if she was seething or being playful. What he sensed, though, was aggressive energy radiating from her, plus a smell of burning wood and hint of vanilla.  

“Why are you defending this newbie loser?” Alacard snarled. “He hasn’t lived like us, experienced what we have, struggled like us. Let me pound him so he can get a small taste of what we’ve been through.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, nor do I care,” said Mizuki, standing her ground. “He’s one of us, and so I’ve got his back. If anyone needs a pounding, it’s you.”

Alacard sustained a growl, grinding his teeth as he hesitated to strike.     

“You know,” she said with a little smirk and tease in her tone. “Getting burned hurts, a lot.” She lifted a gloved hand, fingers pointed upward, and a flame burst to life, emanating from the back of her palm, burning brilliantly across and above her fingers. That material must have protected her skin from being burnt. She held her fiery eyes on him with a gleaming smile. “I wouldn’t mind frying a punk like you.”

“Shut up!” he snarled, leaping into action with a furious frenzy, not caring that she was about to literally blast him with fire.

This time, though, Isbella jumped into action. She was much swifter than Mizuki, which must have been her vampire abilities kicking into gear. Isabella pivoted on her foot, moving her body into a palm striking motion, smacking Alacard’s chest in a precise motion with what looked like a lot of power. The hit sent him stumbling backward into a cabinet.

He shook himself off and stood tall, lurching forward as if he was going to rip all them apart. “Stop standing in his place, or I’ll rip you apart,” he snarled.

Isabella stood strong. “Is this how you want to start the year, or are you that desperate to show how tough you are?”

His lip curled in a snarl as he looked like he was about to lose it, his fingers cracking as he wriggled them about. “Screw you, bloodsucker!” He screamed in a maddened fury as he leapt into action, rushing her with a crazed look.

There was a moment where it felt like everything slowed down, even though it was all happening quickly, where Vincent felt this weird, tingling sensation move over his body, and his hairs standing on end. He wanted to raise his hand in warning and yell, ‘watch out,’ as if it would change what was about to unfold.

Luckily, someone intervened.

                                              .           .           .