Alexander stood in a locker room, struggling with the small buttons on his new shirt. Between the pain and the bandages, his injuries made putting on his new school uniform an unnecessary struggle. He was in the middle of fussing with this tie when a loud bang denoted the opening of the locker room door, followed by a burst of laughter and a gaggle of teen boys in gym uniforms. When they caught sight of Alexander, they all quieted and stood at their end of the room, staring—some whispering.

“Ohh?” a voice came from the back of the crowd, closer to the door—a voice that was followed by a taller boy with shockingly white hair and a piercing emerald gaze squeezing his way to the front of the group. He cautiously strolled over to Alexander, his hands on his hips, bobbing around to get a better look. “This is the boys’ locker room, Princess,” he smirked.

Alexander grit his teeth, “Obviously,” he replied, watching the other carefully and seeing his eyes flicker down to the bandages on his right arm.

“Oh, you’re actually a guy,” the other gave a soft mock laugh of surprise, waving listlessly. “My bad my bad,” he added, stepping closer. With a speed that surprised Alexander, the other student reached out and grabbed his messy tie. “Here, lemme help you with that, Princess.”

Red in the face, Alexander swatted the other away from him, “Don’t call me that,” he growled. Amongst the laughter of the other students, Alexander grabbed his messenger bag from the bench and pushed his way through the crowd into the hall. He nearly walked directly into a throng of girls all standing around the door to the other locker room across the way, almost bowling over a girl his height. “S-sorry,” muttered, keeping his head down. Things were already going sideways.

“Priiinnncessss,” cooed a voice from behind him. Alexander felt a hand on his shoulder as the white-haired boy leaned into view, a sly smirk touching his thin lips.

The hairs on the back of Alexander’s neck stood on end as something cold ran up his spine. He turned to shove the other guy off of him out of reflex, only to recoil in pain—having forgotten about his arm.

“Van!” the girl Alexander had nearly knocked over interrupted them. “Be nice,” she scolded.

Van smirked, taking a hold of Alexander’s tie and using it to pull the other towards him, “I wasn’t going to hurt him, Nana,” he mused, now re-tying Alexander’s tie. “I just thought Princess here looked a little sloppy with his tie like that. I can’t imagine it’s easy to do with an injury,” he explained.

Alexander looked up at the taller boy defiantly, expecting to see something other than a strangely contradictory cool warmth focused on his tie. He immediately looked away from the other, mumbling his thanks.

“I didn’t quite catch that, Princess,” Van mused.

“My name is Alex!” Alexander growled as he pulled away from Van, storming off down the hall.

Nana, an athletic and youthful looking young lady with skin the colour of creamy coffee, sighed heavily. “Van, why’d you do that?” she turned to look up at the taller boy who was still gazing down the hall after Alexander.

He finally shrugged, “Dunno. There’s something about him that ruffles me I guess,” he mused with a smirk, placing one hand on his chin in thought.

Nana frowned at that, following Van’s gaze up the hall. “It’s not like you to just drop a nickname on someone so quickly,” she pointed out, tucking her chin-length pale auburn hair behind her ear.

Van made a noncommittal hum and turned to her, “I see you’re locked out,” he gestured uselessly to the girls’ locker room door. “Do you need me to go instead?”

Nana put her hands on her hips, glaring at him. “Only if you promise to be nice,” she said sternly.

“Whaaat, and get Boss Lady mad? I would never,” Van feigned offense. “In all seriousness though, I promise, I’ll try.”

Nana pouted at him. “Fiiineee—but only because we’re locked out.”

At that, Van grinned genially, slapped her shoulder, and trotted off to get changed. “You’ll see, it’ll be fine, Prince,” he called over his shoulder with a wink.

* * *

“Evans,” Alexander’s eyes shot up from his hands folded in his lap to the woman on the other side of a large oak desk. The nameplate at the forefront read; Ariel Solister. She wore a fashionable navy blue blazer that only enhanced the warm tan of her skin. Her burgundy-brown hair was pulled back up into a neat French Twist, bangs framing her soft featured face and thick dark eyebrows. “Evans, are you alright? You’ve been muttering something since you came back,” she smiled, looking mildly concerned.

“O-oh, it’s nothing,” Alexander hunched up in his seat, his hand moving unconsciously to cover his bandaged arm. “I just had an encounter with another student on my way back,” he explained.

“I see,” Ariel said, her dark brown eyes following his movements before she turned back to her keyboard. “If you like,” she began while typing, “You have permission to wear a dark or neutral coloured long-sleeve under your uniform. I would understand if you don’t want others taking notice,” she said. The printer across the room whirred to life and she got up to retrieve the papers.

“Oh… um... About that,” Alexander mumbled, glancing down at his messenger bag and small backpack. They had been the only things to survive his encounter with the witch. “Iiii, don’t have anything else,” he sighed quickly.

“Mmm,” Ariel sat back down at her desk, setting the new papers onto the open file. “Yes, Ghost did call me to explain what happened.” She shook her head. Whatever opinion she held of the witch hunter, she kept it to herself.

Alexander bit his lip apprehensively. “Um… Headmaster,” he began uncertainly.

“Ask your questions, Evans, this is a learning institution after all,” she pointed out. She opened her drawer to pull out a smaller envelope with a plastic ID card in it. “This is your student card, it will get you most places on the grounds, including your dormitory room and the building itself—so don’t lose it.”

“R-right,” he leaned over, accepting it as it was offered to him.

She laced her fingers in front of her on her desk, “Now, the question you were about to ask.”

“Oh, yes ma’am. I was wondering about… Ghost,” he began awkwardly. “I thought Iropa didn’t allow for mercenary witch hunters.”

She gave him an awkward close-lipped smile in return. “Well,” she took in a deep breath, “I guess you’ve met them, so what’s the harm.” She flipped his file closed. “They’re a specialist organization. They have governmental approval to operate in Iropa—generally at the behest of the local police force who are just not equipped or trained enough to handle witches. After all, their recency has turned the world up-side-down and I don’t think the policing organizations move quickly enough to add training for such rare occurrences.”

Alexander frowned, “I see…”

Ariel sighed softly, smiling at him. “I wouldn’t worry about them. Once they deal with the current witch, you probably won’t have reason to speak with them again,” she said.

Alexander’s fingers unconsciously moved along the bandages on his other arm. “Did they—did they tell you what happened?” he asked.

“Yes. And if you need to talk to anyone, you can come and see me anytime, Evans.” Ariel’s smile turned a little sad. “Normally if a student is experiencing emotional distress, I would direct them to the campus mental health specialist in the guidance office—but in your case, we should keep things quiet.” She glanced at the clock on her desk, “Now, a student liaison should be here to show you to your dorm—but it looks like they haven’t arrived yet.”

“I can just go by myself, if that’s fine,” Alexander said quickly.

Ariel laughed at that, “You really do avoid people, don’t you?” When Alexander responded with a puzzled look, she waved it off. “I spoke with your guardian before you arrived. She filled me in on some things,” she explained. “However, Evans,” she leaned forward on her elbows, staring at him intently, “I want you to make an effort to make friends here. Cranberry Institute isn’t just a place for learning. Many of our students go on to be great people, and the connections they make here are invaluable.”

Alexander looked away from her, frowning, “I’m not here to make connections, Headmaster. I’m here to get my diploma. I’m not interested in greatness or whatever.”

“And what are you interested in, Alexander?”

The sudden use of his first name made him look back up at her. He was locked in by the intensity of her chocolate brown gaze. “I—I,” he stammered. He had been about to say something else when a sharp knock came a the office door before it swung open in almost the same instant.