Vincent and Alacard faced each other as a light breeze blew against their hair and uniforms. Mizuki, Max, and a reluctant and nervous Isabella stood on the side.

Mizuki had an eager smile, poking at her teeth with a finger. “Well, this should be good.”

“Good enough for popcorn,” Max said as he reached into a bag of popcorn he had bought from the vending machine before joining them.

Mizuki grinned. “You wanna go a round when they’re done?”

“No way,” Max said, talking with a mouthful of popcorn. “I ain’t fightin no one unless I have to.”

“You’re such a wimp,” she said, slapping him on the back, making him spit some of his popcorn out and almost dropping the bag, swiping a handful of popcorn for herself.

“This is bad,” Isabella said, biting her nails. “If we get caught encouraging an unsanctioned fight, we’ll be in so much trouble.”

“Everyone’s in class, and we’re up on the roof,” Mizuki said with a shrug. “Besides, they don’t even know how to transform yet. They’re just pups. It’ll probably be over quick as Vincent has little to no experience. And as much as I dislike Alacard, that’s just the most likely outcome. She eyed Isabella. “And you don’t have to be here if you don’t want to be.”

Isabella bit her lip, conflicted. “I know, I know. But I have to see this.”

Mizuki gave a knowing smirk, realizing something about Isabella in that moment. The way she looked at Vincent, the way she worried. In that moment, she knew Isabella had a thing for him.

As Vincent eyed Alacard, he thought about how he was going to approach this fight. Should he attack first? Or defend? And was Alacard all talk, or not? Gulp. He felt his nerves tense, doing his best to stand with confidence even if he had no clue how to fight.

Alacard cracked his neck and knuckles, looking elated. “I’m ready anytime you are, chump.”

Vincent felt his pulse quicken at the anticipation of the oncoming bout, his body tense, his hands twitching.

Mizuki stepped forward and yelled. “Are you two gonna fight or just stand there with your hands down your pants?”

“Shuddap,” Alacard said, glowering as he jabbed a thumb at Vincent. “I’m just giving this chump newbie time to consider his plan before I pummel him.”

Vincent thought about how the Beast Mind might help him as he wiped his hand across his forehead. Was that even a thing, and how would he bring that about? As he thought about the fight, about Alacard rushing at him, and meeting him fist to body, it gave him an invigorating rush. And that’s when it happened, that’s when he dashed forward without another thought, bursting into a motion and moving on Alacard.

He closed the distance quicker than he thought, throwing a punch at Alacard’s jaw. Alacard lowered his stance, parried the punch, and stepped to the side, twisting his body as he used Vincent’s forward momentum to push Vincent down.

It was a solid shove, and Vincent shoulder-rolled against the ground, coming up on a knee, and spinning around to meet Alacard whom was standing with a stupid grin on face.

“Is that it?” Alacard asked, raising his arms to either side.

Vincent snarled and jumped to his feet. “Shut up and fight me.” He moved on Alacard, swinging a succession of punches at him. Alacard stepped into him, blocking his strikes with open hands, Vincent’s jabs slapping against Alacard’s open palms.

Alacard smirked. “Come on, Chump. This can’t be all you got, can it?”

Vincent felt a fire light under him, his eyes shimmer with a vicious glimmer as he let out a furious growl, punching with more vigor, pivoting, and striking as he did. He wanted to unleash on Alacard, to let loose, and felt his strength growing, his power increasing.

“Gahhh!” He gave everything he had, throwing a pummel of punches at Alacard, but none of them seemed to connect. They were either blocked, dodged, or parried. And then, he saw an opening and stepped and motioned his body, punching and striking Alacard in the cheek, knocking him backward.

Alacard leaned back from the strike, holding himself there for a moment, then turned, his eyes wild, a delicious smile on face. “Nice.” He spun, quick and precise, and struck Vincent with a powerful punch that knocked Vincent to the ground. Alacard stepped to Vincent, glaring down at him. “Gotcha.”

Vincent shook it off and growled, reaching for Alacard, only grabbing air as Alacard leapt backwards. Vincent spun his legs around in a whirlwind movement, whipping himself back to his feet.

Alacard’s smiled with confidence, clenching his fists. “Watch closely, now. Here I come.”

Vincent blinked, and Alacard seemingly disappeared as he was moving fast – too fast. A second later, he was on Vincent, his eyes excited, fist moving through the air so fast, so precise, so strong. And Vincent couldn’t dodge it because it was too quick, and he was frozen.

Slam!

Alacard’s fist connected with Vincent, knocking him back and down again, tumbling to the ground. Vincent let out a snarl, kicked himself back up to his feet, and charged Alacard, growling as he moved on him. He threw a punch, and Alacard slipped by it, Vincent’s knuckle grazing his cheek as softly as a leaf brushing by.

Alacard moved, quick and precise, kneeling slightly, then came up with a furious uppercut to Vincent’s chin, knocking the poor kid on his back with a hard thud, the wind knocked out of him as he gasped with wide eyes. Vincent stared up at the sky for a second, then gripped the grass, flinging clods of it about as he came up to one knee in a swift motion. He snarled, eyes squinting on Alacard as he felt something dangerous take him over, fill him up, and explode inside him.

What was this rush, this invigorating feeling? He wanted to bound through the air and tear Alacard apart. Was this the Beast Mind? Was this his werewolf strength? Whatever it was, he gave into it, and leapt into action, bounding across the ground at Alacard in a swift movement.

Alacard taunted Vincent as he rushed forward. “That’s what I’m talking about!”

They clashed in a furious whirlwind of punches and strikes and snarls and blocks and blows. Vincent didn’t know what was happening, but he just went with it, gave into it, and let it take him, like some sort of instinctual power surging through him.

Most of Vincent’s strikes and blows were blocked, but he got one or two in, and even ended up scratching Alacard across the cheek, which made him let out a little growl, whipping a powerful punch into Vincent’s chest. As they struck one another, both slid backwards in opposite directions, their breathing heavy from exhaustion. Vincent rubbed his chest as he felt a growing pain throb from the strike, gritting his teeth through the pain, his adrenaline keeping him upright.

Alacard, while having taken a hit, seemed more upset than in pain.

“Okay, punk,” Alacard said, wiping his mouth. “No more playing around.” He growled and charged Vincent with his own ferociousness. Vincent rushed forward with a hungry energy, joining Alacard in a dance of strikes, blows, and blocks. But for each strike Vincent delivered, Alacard returned at least three. He was so strong, so fast, so precise, and then –

He moved on Vincent, smooth and fast, pushing his shoulder into Vincent’s body, and with a mighty growl, he flung Vincent into the air.

What strength! Vincent thought as he tumbled through the air. Luckily, in a catlike maneuver, Vincent was able to twist his body in a way that he landed in a crouch, sliding backward, one hand digging into the ground to slow his backward momentum, growl escaping his tensed jaw as he eyed Alacard in a taunting manner.

He felt attuned to it all as he held unblinking eyes on Alacard, then he burst forward in a sudden rageful rush, an urge that seemed to explode on him wanting him to unleash on Alacard.

“I’m done playing,” came the low and controlled voice of Alacard as he appeared out of nowhere.

“Wha?” – was all Vincent could utter before Alacard kneed him in the chin with a sickening crunch. It knocked him back hard, and he flopped against the ground with thud.

Then, as he lay there looking up into the sky, his eyes went wide as Alacard appeared above him in a flash, coming down on Vincent as he spun around, kicking his leg in a whipping motion. When it connected, Vincent let out a cry of pain from the thunderous strike that resounded against him and sent a small shockwave moving in all directions, and then…

Darkness took him again.

                                               .           .           .

Vincent blinked his eyes open to Shayla Grave examining him again, her chest in his face. Embarrassed, he blushed and tried to move away, but groaned as he realized he couldn’t move one of his arms, which to his wide-eyed amazement was twisted oddly. A sharp pain shot through his body, resonating in his chest. Shayla Grave had opened his shirt and was examining the bruise that had stretched in all directions on his bare chest, her hands felt cold as they moved over his skin.

“W-what happened to me?” Vincent groaned in an incoherent manner as if he had marshmallows in his mouth.

She leaned back, crossing her legs and arms. “You’ve taken quite the damage there.”

“I’m sorry to trouble you, doc,” he said, propping himself up with a groan, his voice becoming clearer to understand.

“Hmmm,” she said, tilting her head and looking over his shoulder to something behind him, her eyes curious and aware. “What is that?”

As Vincent turned to look, she moved to his side in a swift motion, like the cracking of a whip, and grabbed his broken arm, moving in a precise movement as she snapped and cracked it back into place. Vincent let out a yelp, passing out from the pain.

A few moments later, he woke again and groaned, sitting up with a groggy feeling. His broken arm throbbed and was hard to move. Wait… He could move his arm? The one that had been twisted oddly. Barely, though. He sucked in air as he felt the pain pulsate through it as his consciousness came back. His whole body throbbed but… didn’t throb as much as before.

“Ugh,” he said, falling back against the exam table. “Why’d you do that?”

“Fix your arm?” she asked with a scent of sarcasm. She picked his arm up again, which made him yelp. “I can easily put it back.” She began to move it in the direction it had been twisted.

“No, no,” he said, pleading with her. “I’m fine, really.”

She dropped it and it made him wince.

He clenched his teeth, and flexed his arm, moving his fingers into fists. It hurt so much, yet… How was he able to move his arm after it had been broken like that? “How, is this possible?” It really was weird, and with each passing moment, the throbbing lessened ever so slightly.

“Ah, the miracles of healing,” Shayla Grave said, watching him with a slight smile.

How could he heal so easily from something so devastating? Then again, he recalled it being that way since he was a child. His bruises, scrapes, and even a broken bone here and there. They were bad, but… With each one, each time, he had miraculously healed up, not one doctor had been baffled. Perhaps the doctors his parents had taken him to were supernatural beings just like Shayla Grave.

“Pain is a good thing,” she said. “It means you are alive and thriving.” She then leaned back and crossed her legs, pushing her glasses against her face. “How did this come about? Did you slip and fall off a roof again or run into something without looking where you were going?”

Why did this woman assume he did idiotic things? He wasn’t stupid.

“It seems like it is some sort of blunt force trauma,” she said, looking at bruise with those dark eyes of hers. “Did you get in a fight with a tree?”

“No,” Vincent said with a scoff. “Werewolf classmate.” He rubbed at the bruise.

“Ah,” Shayla said with a knowing nod. “Well,” she said, taking his arm and moving it around, which made him wince as it was still tender. “It seems to be doing alright now. As you’re not a vampire, you’ll have to give it a good night’s rest to feel fully healed. Can you manage that without getting yourself into trouble again?”

She handed him two paper cups again. One with pills, one with water. “Take these for the pain.” She smirked, and he wasn’t sure why she was smirking.

He downed the pills.

She sat back, crossing her arms under her chest, which made Vincent looked away because her cleavage was more pronounced from that movement.

She smirked, this time as if to say, naughty boy, then said, “If that’s all, you may leave.” And then she turned to her computer and began to type away.

                                               .           .           .