At sword practice, Dan approaches the coach, feigning a subtle frown. "Coach, I don't feel very well... Mind if I just practice over there by myself? I'd rather not bother anyone."

The coach, clearly pleased with Dan's supposed dedication, nods and lets him drift to the edge of the court.

Dan slips into position by a lone dummy, barely hiding a smirk as he begins his internal monologue:

"Flawless," he muses. "The ultimate countermeasure against forced pair-ups. The double whammy—I feel sick and don't want to bother others. Together, they create an undeniable aura of being considerate yet dedicated, convincing everyone I'm a good guy and that I'm willing to practice, even in 'bad health.'" He pauses, swinging lazily at the dummy. "One day, I'll teach Luck this masterpiece of evasion."

On the other side of the court, Julian swings enthusiastically, his energy infectious. "That swing was too crazy! You're too good, man," he shouts. "That was totally a magical slice, wasn't it?"

Elias smiles, shaking his head. "No, it was just the way I swung the sword.Thats it."

They reset and charge at each other again, their wooden swords clashing with a sharp thud. Julian, overly eager, loses his grip, sending his sword spinning across the court. It flies in Dan's direction, startling him as it passes with a wide miss.

Julian calls out, "My bad! Hey, a little help? Mind kicking it over, orphan boy?"

Dan narrows his eyes, annoyed. Orphan boy? Where did everyone even get that idea? He grudgingly taps the sword back toward them.

Elias catches it with a nod. "Thanks, Dain. Sorry for that."

Dan responds with a quick "Yeah, ok," paired with a polite nod. Immediately, he thinks, Why did I nod? Somehow, I instinctively accepted Elias as higher on the social ladder... He grimaces slightly. Pretty submissive, even for me, and who even is Dain?

After nodding to Elias, Dan turns back to his lonely wooden dummy, muttering to himself. "Right, let's take all my impending existential dread and just slice it away."

With a grim determination, he raises his sword and slashes down with all the frustration he's built up. The blade meets a hidden metal support in the dummy with a loud clang, sending a shockwave of vibrations rippling through his entire body. He freezes, every nerve in his hands protesting, his teeth clenched to keep from yelping.

"Ah, sweet, sweet pain," he mutters, barely holding back a squeal as he rubs his throbbing hand, stealing a glance to make sure nobody saw his embarrassing struggle.

"Walls are an unavoidable part of life," Dan thinks, still wincing from the vibrations. You can't dodge them; you can't cut through them without a price. Sometimes, they're external, like social ladders and misunderstandings. Other times, they're personal—self-doubt, hidden frustration, or, as he just experienced, the very real wall of a metal-supported dummy.

As the class bell rang, signalling the beginning of break, Dan remained at his desk, his pen scratching out the last few answers on his assignment. The rest of the class slowly began to disperse, heading toward the various groups or making their way outside for some fresh air. But Dan didn't mind the solitude. It was familiar—comfortable, even.

He finished the last question, let out a quiet breath, and looked up. His gaze fell across the room, landing on a group of students gathered together near the window. They were loud, laughing, and passing around notes—perfectly in sync with each other, as though their bonds were an effortless thing. It wasn't hard to tell they were the popular crowd. They were confident, charismatic, and always surrounded by people.

Dan stared at them for a moment, feeling the familiar sense of detachment creeping in. They weren't much different from the group dynamics he'd seen before, whether in high school or... other places. But this time, something about it struck him more deeply than before.

He let out a small sigh, his thoughts slipping into a quiet monologue as his eyes stayed fixed on them. It's strange, isn't it? How naturally people form groups. It's almost like it's in our nature to be surrounded by others. Some need it more than others, but in the end, it's a constant—this urge to belong, to fit in somewhere. People don't realise it, but we are all part of something larger, whether we like it or not. The world doesn't function on individualism alone. It's a web of connections, a constant flow of interactions that's both invisible and essential.

Dan's gaze flickered to his desk, then back to the group. I suppose it's no different from the assignment I just finished. Each piece, each action, is part of a bigger puzzle. Without one, the rest would fall apart. I guess, in a way, that's what they have. A group dynamic that holds them up gives them purpose. I don't know if it's just a survival instinct or if they actually value it. But they've got it. They function as a whole.

He shook his head slightly, clearing his thoughts. It wasn't his place to overthink it. He wasn't the type to seek connections the way they did, but it was fascinating to watch them and to understand the invisible threads that held them together.

But it doesn't change the fact that I'm not part of that group, he thought with a slight, detached smirk. And I'm fine with that. In fact, maybe it's better this way. The more you rely on others, the more chances there are for things to fall apart.

With that thought, he returned to his assignment, his attention turning back to the work at hand. The social dynamics of the class would continue to evolve, but Dan knew he wasn't about to get caught up in them. He was more content observing from the sidelines.

As Dan sat at his desk, the hum of quiet chatter filled the classroom during break. He was just finishing off an assignment that he had almost put off, but now his mind was drifting.

"Hey," a voice snapped him back to reality, sharp and direct. "What are you doing? Stop staring at people; it's weird."

Dan blinked, pulling his gaze away from the group and turning to find Celia, arms crossed, eyeing him with a mix of annoyance and concern from her seat. "Huh?" he muttered, slightly caught off guard. "I wasn't staring."

"Sure looked like it," she said, raising an eyebrow. "It's fine if you're thinking, but don't let your eyes wander. It's a little creepy."

Dan didn't respond immediately. Instead, he glanced back over at the group of students, his eyes narrowing slightly. "It's just... fascinating, really. How they all fit together. It's like watching an experiment in real-time," he muttered more to himself than to her.

Celia let out an exasperated sigh. "You and your weird observations. They're just a bunch of people hanging out. Not everything needs to be analysed."

Dan shrugged, leaning back in his seat. "Maybe, but people have always needed groups. It's in our nature, right? To form connections. Some just do it naturally, like they were born for it. Others, not so much. But it's still the same instinct."

Celia raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. "You're really going deep for something so basic."

"It's basic because it's human," Dan replied quietly, his gaze still on the group, now a little more contemplative. "People feel safer and stronger when they have others around them. The need for connections—it's not just about being 'liked.' It's about survival, stability... belonging."

Celia gave him a sidelong glance, clearly unimpressed. "Wow, you should get a degree in people watching. You're way overthinking this."

Dan smirked, leaning back in his chair. "Maybe. But sometimes the simple things are worth understanding. You'd be surprised how much people don't realise about themselves when they're just... living."

Celia rolled her eyes, turning back to her own work. "Well, whatever. Just keep your weird thoughts to yourself."

Dan didn't reply, but the distant look in his eyes returned. After a pause, he sighed softly, almost to himself. "Yeah, I guess it's easy for people to connect... if they actually know how. Me? I'm still figuring that out. But hey, at least I have great observations."

He half-smiled, but the smirk quickly faded into a tired expression.

There was a knock at the door, and it opened, and Ashton stepped into the quiet volunteer room, his presence immediately noticed by Celia, who was reading a book. Dan sat at the desk, focused on his own work. The door clicked behind Ashton as he made his way further into the room.

Ashton glanced at Dan for a moment before speaking, "I've seen your swordsmanship, and I have to say, it's impressive."

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Celia raised an eyebrow at him, a hint of curiosity in her expression. "He is?" she asked, looking over at Dan.

Ashton nodded confidently. "Yeah. When he swings his sword, his form is really something. You can tell he's put a lot of work into it."

Dan felt his face flush slightly. "You're embarrassing me," he muttered, trying to suppress a laugh. It wasn't every day someone complimented his skills. He gave a small, forced chuckle, feeling the discomfort of the attention.

"Who are you?" Dan asked, trying to steer the focus away from himself.

Celia, looking intrigued but slightly amused, spoke up. "You're in the same class as him. You should know him by now," she said with a hint of sarcasm, a sly smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Then again, you don't talk to people, do you?"

Dan sighed and glared at Celia, his annoyance evident. But before he could respond, Ashton took a step closer and explained, "I'm afraid it's true—we never really got the chance to talk." He turned toward Dan, offering a polite but relaxed smile. "I'm Ashton Taank; I'm in your class."

Dan blinked, still trying to adjust to the sudden conversation. "I don't really hang out with girls," he muttered, a little defensively, even though he doesn't hang out with boys as well.

Ashton tilted his head slightly. "Ah, I understand," he said with a faint smirk. "But you see, I'm a guy."

Dan's expression faltered for a moment, confusion creeping in. "Wait... what?" he asked, blinking in surprise.

Celia, sensing his confusion, chimed in with a teasing grin. "You really don't talk to anyone, do you?" she said, enjoying the moment of teasing.

Dan shot her a look of exasperation, but Ashton just smiled, clearly not fazed by the interaction.

Dan frowned, trying to process Ashton's statement. He looked the guy up and down—slim build, soft features, and a voice that was, in Dan's defence, not overly masculine. "Huh. Could've fooled me," he muttered under his breath.

Celia, still clearly entertained, added, "You're impossible, Dan. Maybe try paying attention to the people around you for once."

Dan rolled his eyes. "I pay attention—just not to the irrelevant stuff."

Ashton chuckled softly, stepping closer to Dan's desk. "Don't worry about it; I get that a lot," he said, waving off the misunderstanding. "Anyway, I actually wanted to ask if you'd be willing to help me out sometime. Your technique in sword practice earlier... I could really learn a lot from someone with your skill."

Dan blinked, his initial instinct to decline already forming in his head. But something about Ashton's calm and earnest demeanour made him hesitate. "Help you out? What, like tutoring in swordsmanship?"

"Exactly," Ashton said with a nod, his polite smile unwavering. "I'm still trying to figure out my own style, and you seem like someone who's already got a solid foundation. I'd really appreciate it."

Dan glanced at Celia, who raised an eyebrow at him as if daring him to refuse. He sighed inwardly, realising he probably couldn't brush this off without seeming like a complete jerk. "Fine. I guess I can spare some time," he muttered, his tone reluctant but not dismissive. "Just... don't expect anything fancy. I'm not exactly a teacher."

Ashton's expression brightened. "That's more than enough. Thanks, Dan."

Celia smirked, clearly enjoying the rare sight of Dan being roped into social obligations. "Look at you, making friends. Who knew you had it in you?"

Dan shot her a glare. "It's not like that."

"Sure, sure," Celia said, turning back to her book, though her amused tone made it clear she wasn't going to let it go anytime soon.

Dan, still confused, rubbed the back of his neck. "Right, well... I guess we'll get started tomorrow, then."

Ashton nodded. "I appreciate it. Thanks for the help."

Celia gave a small, satisfied smirk as she glanced at Dan. "Looks like you've got a new training buddy, Dan."

Dan, still processing the conversation, just sighed and nodded. "Yeah... I guess I do."

Ashton nodded politely to Celia before leaving the room. Once the door clicked shut, Dan leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temple. "Why do I feel like I just signed up for something I'm going to regret?"

Celia didn't look up but replied with a smirk. "Probably because you did."

Dan let out a resigned sigh, already dreading the next time Ashton approached him. But as much as he wanted to avoid it, a small part of him couldn't entirely deny the appeal of being recognised for his skills. Maybe, just maybe, it wouldn't be so bad.

Dan wipes the sweat off his brow with the sleeve of his shirt, his arm moving with the rhythm of exhaustion as he tries to shake off the sting in his hand. The clang from earlier still rings in his ears. He breathes heavily, trying to centre himself, when suddenly he feels a light tap on his shoulder. Surprised, he turns around, and there stands Ashton, looking annoyingly cheerful.

"I got you!" Ashton says, his bright smile wide, his eyes sparkling with an almost mischievous glint.

For a moment, Dan is frozen, his heart unexpectedly doing a weird little flip. Whoa, what is this feeling? His brain scrambles, trying to make sense of the sensation. If he weren't a guy, I'd probably confess on the spot and... get rejected anyway? Wait, why am I rejected?

His thoughts are muddled, and he feels an unfamiliar tightness in his chest. Am I...?

Before he can figure it out, he snaps out of his inner turmoil and looks directly at Ashton, trying to ignore the fluttering feeling that's still lingering in his stomach. "What do you want?" he asks, his voice flat

Ashton's grin doesn't falter, and he's practically bouncing on his feet. "I was hoping you could help me out today. My usual practice partner is unwell, so I was wondering if you could spar with me instead." His eyes are wide, hopeful, and for a second, Dan wonders if he's being tricked into some sort of prank.

Dan blinks, a little taken aback by the request. "You want me to practice with you?" he asks, his voice flat but his mind still tangand... the strange feeling that's bothering him. "You do realise I'm not the 'let's practice together' type, right?"

Ashton doesn't seem to care about that. "I know, I know, you're all cool and distant and don't care much about people," he says, nodding like he's trying to crack the code on Dan. "But, come on, you're way better than me, and I promise I won't be annoying. Just a little help to get my form right."

Dan hesitates. It's clear Ashton's not asking for a huge favour, just a bit of guidance. And for some strange reason, the thought of turning him down feels... off? That weird tightness in his chest returns, and he's not sure if it's frustration or something else entirely. Maybe even infatuation.

He sighs. "Fine. But don't expect me to go easy on you."

Ashton's grin only widens, clearly relieved. "You got it!" he says, and before Dan can protest, Ashton already leads the way to a quieter area of the training grounds.

They stop a few paces away from the others, and Ashton immediately grabs his sword, holding it out awkwardly. "Okay, what's first?" he asks, his voice laced with both nervousness and excitement.

Dan takes a step forward, raising his own sword, his stance fluid and relaxed. "Your grip's too tight," he says, his tone critical but not unkind. "You're not supposed to choke the sword. It should feel like an extension of your arm, not something you're trying to wrestle."

Ashton looks down at his hands and then immediately loosens his grip, nodding. "Got it. Like this?"

Dan gives a small nod of approval. "Better. Now, your stance is a little off. You're too squared up. Turn your body more, so you can pivot when you strike."

Ashton adjusts, trying to mimic Dan's stance, though it's clear he's still not completely comfortable. Dan watches, making slight adjustments here and there, offering tips as they go.

Ashton swings his sword again, this time with more control, and Dan steps back to avoid the strike, offering only a small grunt of approval. "Not bad. But your footwork is still all over the place. You need to move more fluidly, like you're dancing, not stumbling."

Dan moves to the side and demonstrates the movement himself, the ease in his movements contrasting with Ashton's awkwardness. "Try to match the rhythm. Don't force it."

Ashton watches closely, then mimics the footwork, this time with more purpose. Dan can see the improvement, even if it's just the beginning. Ashton's strikes become sharper and more deliberate, and Dan can't help but feel a small sense of satisfaction that he helped get him there.

After a few more rounds of practice, Ashton's movements are smoother, though still not perfect. Dan gives a small nod. "Alright. You've got the basics down for now. Just keep working on it. And stop thinking so much. Focus on feeling it, not analysing every step."

Ashton grins, breathless but pleased. "Thanks, Dan! Seriously, you're a lifesaver."

As the two of them sit down on a nearby bench, Ashton flops down beside Dan, clearly still catching his breath from the sword practice. Dan, however, is a little too aware of Ashton's proximity. His heart skips a beat, and the moment Ashton sits a little too close, Dan screams inwardly, "TOO CLOSE! TOO CLOSE! TOO CLOSE!" His mind spirals, the tension in his chest returning with each beat of his heart. He can feel his muscles stiffen, and his mind races in every direction except where it should be.

For a long, awkward moment, the two of them sit in silence, watching the others spar on the training grounds. Dan's gaze flickers to the other students, anything to avoid the sudden awareness of Ashton sitting right next to him. Ashton, on the other hand, seems completely at ease, occasionally stealing a glance at Dan but not saying anything.

A couple of minutes pass, the silence only broken by the sound of swords clashing in the distance. Dan takes a deep breath, trying to ignore the storm of thoughts in his head. "You know," he starts, his voice rough but steady, "you should be glad you're not completely hopeless."

Ashton looks over, blinking in surprise. "You serious?" he asks, a hint of disbelief in his voice.

"Yeah," Dan replies, his gaze still trained on the sparring matches. "You're improving. Slowly. But you're getting there." His voice is level, almost like he doesn't care, but Ashton can hear the hint of approval.

Ashton grins, his earlier nervousness melting away. "Thanks, man. I mean, I'm still pretty bad, but it feels good to get better, y'know?"

Dan nods, his expression neutral. "Yeah. Just don't let your footwork fall apart next time. And stop overthinking everything. You'll be fine."

Ashton nods, seemingly reassured, but then he elbows Dan playfully. "What about you, though? You ever going to show me how you fight?"

Dan doesn't answer immediately, his lips twitching as his mind quickly calculates the best way to shut down the conversation. "I'm not a teacher. I just help where I can," he mutters, trying to brush it off. But Ashton's grin only widens.

"You sure? I think I could learn a lot from you."

Dan shifts uncomfortably. Why does he have to be so... persistent? He looks away, trying not to react to the proximity again, but the words slip out before he can stop them: "I don't teach people. And I don't do favours."

Ashton leans in just a little bit closer, teasing. "Then why are you in the volunteer club? Is that a challenge?"

Dan stiffens, his face flushing slightly, before he mutters, "No." He can feel the weird tension again, and his chest tightens. Seriously, just leave me alone for a minute.

The two of them lapse back into silence, though Dan's mind is still racing, trying to ignore the heat rising in his face and the inexplicable flutter in his stomach.