The morning had gone by relatively smoothly. Classes in language, history, and science were typical in that they were a bit higher level than middle school, but manageable. Math, however, was a struggle to the say the least, and Vincent was rapidly discovering that he was out of his league at the level they were working at to the point that he needed major help.

Sigh. That was alright, though.

Then there was the Supernatural & Special Tactics Class that gave him a sinking feeling. Why did he feel so uneasy about it? And why was it the whole second half of the day following lunch? He’d have figure it out after lunch as he was excited for the pizza that he heard they were making today.

. . .

Vincent felt his body tense as he stood outside classroom 412. Readying himself with a nod and a repeating mantra that it was going to be a good day, he took a reassuring breath and entered. At least he had a full stomach of pizza to help face whatever this class was.

The classroom was typical. It wasn’t too large, nor was it too small. It had about eight desks in the main area. At the front was a white board, a desktop computer, and a big television screen to the side of the white board. Five other students sat at desks already, one of them making his jaw drop as he noticed it was the kid that had shoved him down outside.

“Well, lookie what the cat dragged in,” the kid said as he leaned back in his chair, legs up on desk, stupid grin on face as if seeing Vincent was the best thing that could’ve happened to him. “Do me a favor, chump, and don’t sit near me cause you stink.” The kid waved his hand across his face as if blowing away a bad smell.

Sheesh, Vincent thought as he clenched his jaw, wanting nothing more than to tell the kid that he was the one that reeked, but that would just make Vincent look like a child. Plus, he didn’t want to banter with this idiot or it would escalate. So, he just adjusted his backpack and made his way to a desk near the front, noticing the other students as he did.

A handsome kid with brown hair was staring out the window on the far end. A girl with a mass of wild orange and yellow hair was chatting and laughing with a kid with blonde hair and a mischievous smile, their two desks facing each other as they played some sort of card game, and the stupid kid in the back with gray hair and his dirty dog scent.

Vincent wasn’t a stranger to sitting in the front, as the more docile students tended to sit in the front, whereas the troublemakers tended to sit in the back. And he certainly wasn’t a troublemaker.

A cute girl with short white hair with a soft purple tint and a black ribbon sat next to the desk he aimed to sit in himself. When he approached, she turned to him and smiled which gave him a bit of shock because there were several things about her that were… well, shocking. The most noticeable were her eyes. Bathed in all black, except for a pure ring of red, they were dazzling in one regard, terrifying in the other. He’d never see eyes with black sclera and pupil like that, the red-ringed irises seemingly luminescent.

He had seen contacts like these at events like the Autumn Festival, so he shrugged it off. But how was she allowed to wear such things as a school with seemingly strict uniform policies? She was sitting at the front, though, so perhaps she was one of those gifted students that was allowed certain amenities because of her genius.

He found himself becoming lost in the dark abyss of the contacts, the piercing red rings glowing as if holding a light of their own, his thoughts wandering about. And for some reason, he thought back on what his parents had said about him being a werewolf, which sent another shiver up his spine. Why was he thinking about that while staring into this stranger’s eyes? Why did time suddenly seem like it was slowing down, feeling as if he was glued to her gaze? Why did he feel as if he was being pulled toward her yet unable to move?

Maybe he was thinking about werewolves because of this girl’s awesome contacts? Maybe she was great at costume making, and he could dress up as a werewolf and join her as partners in crime at the Autumn Festival. Why was he even thinking these thoughts while staring into her eyes? He needed to stop.

“Hi,” she said with a bright smile, extending her hand to shake. “I’m Isabella. What’s your name?”

He gulped and looked from her to her hand, a soft scent of lemons and honey filling his nose, noting her pale, porcelain skin setting off its own luster.

“I-I’m Vincent,” he said, finding his voice and taking her hand to shake. “Nice to meet you.” As he looked back up at her and cleared his throat, he noticed she had strange ears that were slightly pointed at the top, which reminded him of an elf in fantasy stories. Probably some kind of genetic thing from her parents. Not a big deal, but all in all… odd.

“Hi,” she said, holding her smile, her stark contacts piercing into him. “I’m Isabella.” She seemed friendly enough as she tilted her head.

“I’d keep my distance from her,” warned the punk kid in the back. “She’s a bloodsucker, you know? She’ll drain the life from you, capture your soul with her eyes, and eat your flesh if you get too close. She ain’t a true being.”

You mean a true person? Vincent thought.

The girl glowered. “Shut up, Alacard.” She turned back to Vincent with her warm smile and squeezed his hand before pulling away. “Don’t listen to him. I promise I don’t bite.” Her smile twitched at her teasing tone, and Vincent gulped and shuddered at the sight of something that he had to think twice about because he wasn’t sure he actually saw what he saw. But… was that a fang in her mouth? Nah, he must have been seeing things, thinking about werewolves and weird eyes and other stuff. He had to pull himself together.

Also, he had gotten the punk kid’s name. Alacard, eh? Vincent made a mental note of both their names. He wanted to talk to the girl more, and as he made a motion to talk, totally ignoring Alacard’s warning, their teacher entered the room.

“Hello first years.” The voice came from a massive man that exuded a strong presence as his bulk filled the doorway. The huge man was sucking on a large cigar that he took a deep puff of and blew out as he entered the room.

He wasn’t super tall, but he was built like a freaking train, his neck and face holding several scars. He had a thick brown beard, shaggy hair, and lots of hair covering his arms. He wore overalls, a red flannel shirt, and brown boots that gave the appearance of a mountain man. He looked like the type of guy that if equipped with an axe could take a tree down in a few swipes.

He inhaled the cigar and blew out slowly as he made his way to the front of the room. “I take it you’ve met each other already?” He took another pull and blew out smoke again, filling the room with a smoky haze. When he exhaled a fourth round, the smoke made Isabella and Vincent cough.

The man narrowed his eyes on his cigar, and then put it out on his arm. A short sizzling sound followed by a small trail of smoke rising from it made Vincent wince as it looked painful to put it out that way. “Sorry about that. Can’t seem to shake the habit of these suckers.” He eyed the cigar, making sure it was out, then tossed it in the metal trash bin and clapped his hands together. “I’m David Brown. You can call me Mr. B.”

Mr. B leaned against his desk, which looked like it was going to buckle under his bulk. “Now, where to begin.” He rubbed the chin of his weathered face that looked like it had seen things, experienced much.

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The scent of Mr. B made Vincent’s body tense, his hands clutching the side of the desk to prevent him from jerking too much as it hit him. While it wasn’t off-putting like Alacard’s scent, it was still intense with its thick, woody musk aroma mixed with the smell of pine trees. It made Vincent think of running wild through a thicket of trees, the ground crunching beneath his feet.

“You there, in the back,” Mr. B said, jabbing his large index finger at Alacard. His sudden, booming words made Vincent flinch again. “What’s your name, son?”

Alacard smirked. “Name’s Alacard Gray.” Alacard eyed the man, as if sizing him up, then chuckled. “Are you really a teacher, or just some high-school dropout coming to tell us the woes of not staying in school?”

Mr. B gave a toothy grin to this brazen kid. “So, you’re the troublemaker, eh?”Alacard shrugged. “Suppose I am. Is that too much for you to handle, teach?”

“Not at all, son,” Mr. B said, holding his eyes upon the boy.

A long moment passed before Mr. B let out a forgetful sigh. “Where was I?” He moved to the computer, grabbed the mouse, and began clicking and typing away. “Our first order of business will be introductions and…” He paused and blinked, leaning toward the screen as if questioning what he was reading, then turned and stared at Vincent.

Vincent looked from left to right, as if checking to see if the teacher was looking at someone else other than him.

“What is it, teacher?” he asked, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end as a sudden rush of wanting to be boundless and free hit him. It was an odd feeling, but perhaps it was because of some sort of connection with this man. It was a weird, dangerous feeling. It made him feel alive. Vincent gripped his desk again to keep his nerves calm as he wasn’t going to allow himself to react in some weird way that would make him the butt of his classmates’ jokes. Not this year.

Mr. B stepped to Vincent with unwavering eyes. “Do you know why you’re here, son?”

Vincent felt himself tense as he held to the sides of his deck, not noticing his nails digging into the wood and leaving small scratches. Mr. B’s voice was sharp and loud, as if he was talking right into his ear. Then, as he raised his eyes to meet his teacher’s he felt something… more.

He felt a sudden urge to want to jump up and pounce on his teacher, even though he knew the outcome would be him getting smashed into the ground. Yet he wanted to fight more than anything. Why, though? The only thing that kept him from losing control was the insanity of that idea, and that was when he remembered another incident in his childhood.

He was playing on the jungle gym at the park, and some dogs were barking at him. Their barks were so loud, ringing in his ear as if they were next to him. It was so disheartening, and it had happened so suddenly that he lost his grip on the monkey bars and fell to the ground awkwardly. Luckily, it was just falling onto a pile of wood chips, but it still rattled him. And as he lay there, his heart pounding against his chest, he noticed not just the barking dogs, but all the noises around him, like screeching in his ears. So clear and sharp and intense, just like a loud speaker blasting against his ear, making him feel as if his head would pop. He curled into a ball, slapping his hands against his ears as the sudden increase in decibel was too much to handle, and so he screamed out in pain. It was just another odd thing among odd things that had happened to him.

He did his best to not show the surprise, the jerking motion, the fright, the widening of his eyes, but he was sure he looked like a weirdo to his teacher. Luckily, he was in the front row, so he hoped the other students couldn’t see the look on his face, or the vigor with which he was doing his best to keep his composure.

“Isn’t it obvious,” Vincent said with as much finesse as he could muster. “W-we’re students, so we’re here to learn, right?” He felt stupid saying it that way, but what else could he say? Unless this was some sort of test for new kids. But they were all new here, right? They were all freshmen.

Mr. B leaned back and folded his arms in a relaxed manner. “Crescent Academy is a special place much like Lunestra is special to the Mainland.” His eye stayed on Vincent, as if he was only talking to him. But why? It had to be some sort of prank? Maybe he wasn’t their teacher. Maybe he was some college kid like Alacard had said?

“You’re a freaking newbie, aren’t ya?” Alacard said with a surprised tone as he slapped his leg with laughter.

Vincent found himself getting angry, and turned to the kid with a low growl in his voice. “Yeah, I’m a newbie. So what? We’re all freshman here.”

Alacard just let out an incredulous laugh, slapping a palm against forehead. “Ginga, save us.”

Who, or what, was Ginga? Vincent thought.

“Tell me, son,” Mr. B said, his eyes still held on Vincent as he leaned forward with an unflinching gaze. “Do you recall ever having anything strange, weird, or out of the ordinary happen while you were growing up?”

Vincent blinked, wondering why all the sudden he was being picked on by the teacher? “D-doesn’t everybody?” Vincent shifted nervously.

Why was this happening? Sure, weird things had happened to him while growing up. But… why did his teacher want him to talk about those things? Childhood was weird, but so was being a teenager. You know, puberty and growing up and all that? His parents had had the talk with him, dealing with all sorts of awkward stuff, and sex.

“No,” Mr. B said flatly. “Not at this school, and certainly not with you.” Vincent felt the intensity of the teacher as he leaned forward, his eyes piercing his soul. “You’re special,” he said in a low growl.

“I’m special?” Vincent repeated, trailing off as he was not sure where this was going, his eyes darting back and forth nervously then looking back at his teacher. He wasn’t a particularly bad student, nor was he quite that smart. So how was he special? Was this like an “everyone-gets-a-trophy” sorta deal? What was this teacher getting at? Vincent didn’t like being in the spotlight like this, so he wanted to get an answer and move on. A straight answer.

He found himself frustrated, and so he just blurted out his next words. “Can you just tell me what you’re trying to say?”

“I love these moments of bonding and renewal,” Alacard joked, which got a glance from Mr. B before he narrowed his eyes on Vincent.

“Son,” he said in a low and serious voice. “You’re a werewolf.”

And there it was.

“What?” Vincent said, stifling a laugh, feeling himself smile in a weird way. What in the world was going on? This had to be some sort of prank. Maybe his parents had called ahead, letting this teacher know to pull his leg on the first day or something. It was pathetic. Infuriating. He wasn’t going to have any of it.

“Yeah, okay,” he said, letting out a little chuckle. “Good one, Mr. B. But I’m not falling for the joke.”

Vincent didn’t want the same old crap from elementary and middle school to follow him. And now a teacher was seemingly in on the joke. Why was this happening to him? Why! No one said anything, and Mr. B kept his eyes on Vincent, which led to a rise in agitation.

“Stop joking around,” Vincent said, feeling his fury rise with his voice as he slammed his hand down on his desk. “And tell me the truth!” What was going on? Sure, it was frustrating to be dragged along like this, but it was no reason to just lose his cool.

“This is no joke, son,” Mr. B said with seriousness. “I’m telling you the truth. Do you see anyone laughing?”

Vincent took that in, realizing that no one was laughing, except that punk Alacard whom held a surly smile. He gulped, feeling a concerned confusion set in as he tried to piece together the truth.

“I suppose seeing is believing,” Mr. B said, shoving his desk backward with a quick grunt as if it was as easy as sliding a chair backward. He then moved his head around and tensed his body, slowly taking off his shirt and removing his pants folding then neatly on the desk, revealing some sort of gym wear of tight spandex shorts and a wetsuit like shirt.

“W-what are you doing?” Vincent said, feeling himself frozen on the spot.

“Wait and see, son.” He looked intent for a moment, focused on no point in particular, his stance reminding Vincent of someone straining in the gym as they lifted weight.

Vincent watched in horror as Mr. B’s body began to change shape as he let out a low growl. His body violently snapped and shifted and turned and twisted in ways that made Vincent’s stomach turn. Vincent leaned away, almost slipping out of his seat, his eyes wide and jaw slack at the horrible sight.

Vincent’s heart sank, his blood running cold. An overwhelming woody and husky scent slapped him across the face as a monstrous and menacing werewolf stood in place of Mr. B.

It was like the creature from his nightmare. Something that didn’t exist, except for the fact that it stood right in front of Vincent, its hungry eyes watching him.

“Holy crap,” Vincent said, wanting nothing more than to frantically scramble away, to run and save his skin. But he was too terrified to move, frozen on the spot, like a prey animal in the sights of a predator.

The beast stood there, its broad chest rising and falling slowly as it let out a low growl. Then it did something that in the current circumstances was oddly ironic. It spoke in Mr. B’s voice. Granted, it was guttural and low, bestial even, but it was clearly Mr. B’s voice.

“This,” the beast said with a gravelly growl, lifting a hairy hand and pointing a long finger with sharp claw that could easily clasp around Vincent’s head. “Is what you are, son. You’re a werewolf, just like me.”

“I,” was all Vincent could get out as he stared onward at the beast. A cold sweat covered his body as he shivered with intensity.

Thump-thump-thump went his heart. As the shock overwhelmed him, his eyes rolled backed into their sockets, his head bobbling limply, and he fainted.

. . .