________________________________________
The halls were quieter now.
Classes were over. The noise had drained out of the building, leaving only the distant hum of janitors cleaning, muffled conversations behind shut doors, and the steady tap of Zaire's footsteps as he walked with slow, aching steps toward Room 3-B.
He was sore. Bruised. Exhausted.
But this wasn't something he could ignore.
Advanced Theory of Manifestation.
A critical class. One more tardy and he'd fail the semester.
Even though he was always on time.
Always tried to be.
He reached the door and hesitated.
Inside, the last few students were finishing clean-up from the lab work. The teacher stood at her desk—Ms. Lienne, a kind-faced older woman with silver-streaked hair and a floral shawl draped around her shoulders like a habit.
Zaire knocked gently.
She looked up and her warm expression dropped the moment she saw him.
"Oh, Zaire, dear… what on earth—?"
Her voice was soft, but laced with concern.
He bowed his head slightly.
"I'm sorry for missing class, ma'am. I—"
He hesitated.
He hated this part. The explaining. The excuses.
He never wanted pity. For being a blank.
"It was Brayden again. He and a couple of others... they stopped me before I could get here. I fought back. But—" he shrugged, his voice thin, "you know how it is."
Ms. Lienne stepped closer, her brows furrowed. She reached out, brushing a thumb gently beneath his eye where a bruise was forming.
"They told me you missed because of repeated tardiness."
He nodded.
"It's not my first time showing up late. But it's… it's never because I want to be. I leave early. I try. But they're always there."
There was a long and heavy pause.
Then, Ms. Lienne sighed and moved to her desk. She pulled out a file, rifled through some papers, and gently crossed something out.
"I'm removing the tardy from your record."
Zaire's head shot up. "But—"
"No buts. I believe you. I've always believed you."
She looked at him then—not just as a student, but as something more. Someone trying to survive.
"You're a good kid, Zaire. Smarter than most. Stronger, too—though not the way this school likes to measure it."
He blinked, unsure of what to say.
"Next time this happens," she added, folding her arms, "you tell me right away. Or better yet have that friend of yours, Kain, tell me. I may not have a strong A-ranked ability, but I can raise hell with a pen and faculty email."
A small, broken laugh escaped him.
"Yes, ma'am."
"Now go on. Ice that jaw. And rest."
Zaire nodded, murmured another quiet thank-you, and turned to leave—shoulders just a little lighter.
________________________________________
Meanwhile..
"Is he going to be alright, nurse?"
Nurse Ellory tended to the boy on the cot, wrapping gauze around his nasty wounds, she had already checked the boys condition and he wouldn't need any extra care, only a healing pill and a good nights rest.
One way or another, students will always get into fights and hurt each other needlessly. These youngsters.. what have they been fighting in the training yard to be beaten so badly? Could they have been bullied?
She examined the boys face with narrowed eyes.
Nurse Ellory has been in charge of the infirmary for a long time that she'd know if a student was new or not. She seems to be getting old.
The graduated seniors would grovel at her leg and massage her back.. she's grown soft through the years.
"Don't worry, that's what im here for. He'll be fine." Nurse Ellory breathed a sigh of relief as he looked at the boy on the cots stable condition.
"Oh thank god!"
The nurse couldn't help but scoff, her wrinkles growing even more prominent. "You'll be fine." The nurse stood up from her stool and pushed aside the curtains, "Zaire, get me a glass of water."
Silence.
Strange.. usually that cheeky boy would be making a fuss already, something about being a patient.
Wait.
Nurse Ellory pushed past the curtains and walked over to Zaire's infirmary bed and opened the curtains, seeing there was not a living thing in sight, the old nurse almost died from a heart attack, her blood levels rising.