"Class dismissed. Send the last student to the infirmary."
After the last pair of students in Class 1-D concluded their match, Professor Vander immediately dismissed the class and walked away. Most of the matches after the first one were a blur to him, and he barely paid any attention, even letting some matches conclude without one of them being nearly dead.
It wasn't because he had a change of heart, but because his mind was stuck on the first match. Professor Vander slowed down his steps, thinking it over and over again. It was like a bug gnawing on his mind.
'… Was I mistaken? No, that can't be.'
It was only for a split second, but he saw it clearly.
Fighting ability that should never belong to a student.
Zeke's legs, which were quivering all throughout the match, suddenly straightened like a sharpened blade. With the little strength he could muster, he swept away his foot when Franz was distracted.
While impressive, this wasn't what surprised Vander.
It was Zeke's eyes when he had done so. They were exceptionally clear, yet also incredibly distant. It was as if he weren't looking at his opponent, but even beyond them. As someone who possessed such eyes as well, Vander knew that Zeke had seen 'it'.
What was the 'it', that he spoke of? Vander explained this vision as a sort of fighting sense. A match wasn't just an exchange of skills, with one overpowering the other. Every match was layered with countless pieces of information, and whoever was the first to comprehend this was the victor, and they could decide the match whenever they could.
For Zeke to show such eyes meant he already foresaw everything that would happen in the match. Franz's clumsy little attacks, arrogant proclamations, and even where would Franz attack. But why didn't he end it, then?
Professor Vander immediately answered his own question.
'It's because he's too weak. He's insanely talented in fighting, but he doesn't have the strength to back up his vision…'
A match was layered with countless pieces of information, but sometimes, information can be broken down by just overwhelming strength. Professor Vander couldn't help sigh in pity.
If Zeke were only stronger, then…
'No, isn't it more interesting that he's weak? I'd never seen such a weak person possess such incredible talent before.'
But just as he thought of this, Professor Vander suddenly stopped walking. A dark-haired man stood in front of him, leaning against the wall, a deep frown present on his face. The man had clear, platinum eyes, and a sharp, deadly presence.
Professor Xavier glanced at Professor Vander, their eyes meeting.
***
After the match, Zeke was quickly brought to the school infirmary, where he was nursed by Dr. Mathilda, a beautiful young blonde-haired woman who was in her early twenties.
"Oxygen levels are in range… looks like his breathing stabilized."
"His broken bones are mostly healed, just need more time to completely recover."
"But his muscles… they're still strained. Even one use of Great Heal can't completely restore it back? What did he even do with his body? It is as if he put it to hell and back, and judging from its strain, this isn't recent."
"The student who brought him here seemed to have said he was reduced to this because of a sparring match, then…"
"Did that mean he was sparring with a broken body? I can't say if that's brave, or the height of recklessness. Amazing or not, I can already see this kid coming back and forth here… good grief."
Zeke trembled, seemingly having woken up from the woman's chattering. His arms twitched slightly. Mathilda glanced at him, her lips closing. A moment later, his eyes opened slightly.
"… Where… am I?"
He instinctively asked, but then his eyes widened in surprise.
He couldn't feel any pain in his body!
"Where do you think?" Mathilda mused, her voice very pleasant. "You go around torturing your body like that, then get in a sparring match before fully recovering, there's only one place you'll end up in."
Zeke turned his gaze, seeing Dr. Mathilda.
'… A doctor?'
"That's right." Mathilda affirmed his guess, staring down at him with a small smile. She nodded. "You're in heaven."
Zeke's eyes turned solemn. "… I died?"
"Huh?" Mathilda tilted her head curiously. "Did his brain get hit heavily during the spar?"
Zeke blinked, and then he slowly realized his current situation. He wasn't in heaven, contrary to the woman's words. He swept his gaze over the room, seeing that he was in an infirmary.
He shifted his gaze to Mathilda, doubtful. "You're a doctor?"
'Aren't doctors usually old?'
"Watch your tone, young man." Mathilda sharpened her gaze, but it was obvious that she wasn't serious. "I am a doctor whose incredibly proud of my skills, devoted to healing the brave students of the academy…"
Translation: She was a doctor who relied on her class' skills, and is trapped in the academy to heal the incredibly stupid and reckless students.
Even though her words were serious, her tone was very lackadaisical, as if she couldn't care less. Although he had trouble understanding this woman, he was certain that she was the one who healed him.
Zeke looked at Mathilda respectfully, bowing his head. "Thank you!"
Mathilda stopped, surprised. She glanced at Zeke and saw the sincerity in his eyes. She smiled and shook her head. "You're mostly healed, but your muscles are still strained, so if you're planning to get into action, I suggest you take a day of rest first."
Zeke nodded, understanding the importance of rest. He changed the topic. "How long has it been since I was asleep, Miss…?"
"Mathilda, Dr. Mathilda." Mathilda answered. "Three hours. It's been three hours since you were brought here by another student, whom I presume who is your classmate. I don't remember his name."
'His…'
Zeke wasn't close to anyone in class, but if there was a person who would help him, it could only be his deskmate, Andrei. His thoughts shifted, and he couldn't help but show a complex expression on his face.
Andrei had helped him, even if it didn't work out in the end. Whether it was warning him of Franz, choosing Franz as a sparring partner, or bringing him to the infirmary, Zeke remembered all of it at the bottom of his heart.
It was the first time that somebody had helped him despite how weak he was.
'… Why?'
This question lingered on his mind, unnerving him.
Perhaps Zeke's confusion was written over his face, Mathilda raised her brows and spoke. "I usually don't allow this, but since you're a handsome kid, you can rest here for a while. Just make sure to get out before your next class."
Without waiting for him to respond, she turned around and walked away. Zeke didn't stop her, his mind occupied by another thing she said.
'Handsome…'
In the first place, wasn't it his exceptional looks that caused everything? His eyes turned resolute. If he was going to abandon his identity as a Starlight, why stop just in the name.
Zeke lowered his gaze, seeing strands of pure white hair. One of the strands stood out among the rest, the pure whiteness replaced by a dark red hue, as though tainted by crimson.