---

---

Drip. Drop. Drip. The blood, having calmed from its initial burst, travels down Kaz's lips and chin and onto the floor below. Bleeding profusely from one's nasal orifice certainly isn't a hallmark of good health. His entire damn body feels heavy right now. His head, however, feels light... from the blood loss. This is not a flowery metaphor regarding some newfound sense of mental clarity. Yeah, some sleep would be nice right about now, Kaz thinks. Just slip into blissful unconsciousness Kaz. It's all over now... But then an all-too familiar voice calls him back from the brink of passing out.

"Kazuto Akechi," Kaz's vision returns to him and he notices Lorken in front of him talking. "You are weak," "Yeah, I figured out that much." "Untrained," "Got it." "And seem to only use your brain when its time to run your mouth," "Okay, now you're just being a dick." Kaz sighs. Yeah, he's heard it all before. Is there a skip button to the part where Lorken tells him that he failed? "Despite your flaws," Hmm? "You do have potential and a degree of wit that some heroes in the industry are sorely lacking." What the hell kind of Twlight Zone-esque shit is this? Kaz is actually being... praised? Needless to say, Kaz is rendered pretty much speechless from what he had just heard. Lorken gets up and holsters his pistol before making his way over to Kaz.

He leans over and gives Kaz a pat well done accompanied by a fierce grin. No comment escapes Kaz's lips as he just quietly kneels there in contemplation. Before dismissing Kaz, Lorken asks the shocked young lad what it's like to care for once. He is quiet at first. Kaz then looks down and sees the broken finger on the hand he used to block one of Lorken's monstrously powerful punch. Maybe it was the angle of where Lorken was standing but one could swear that some semblance of a smile appeared on Kaz's face just then. "It freaking hurts."

Kaz grabs his cardigan while standing up and wipes the blood from his face. Earlier in the bout, Kaz made a mental remark about forgetting something. It isn't until now that he finally remembered what that was. Just right then, Lorken dismisses him. Perfect timing. "I'm going off school grounds. There's something important I have to do. Don't worry, this isn't an excuse to run away. I'll be back before long." At the exit, he turns around to face Lorken. "Hey, I want you to teach me how to punch." Kaz says with a serious expression and his left hand balled into a fist.

Some time later, Kaz is at the convenience store stuck in a long checkout line; he has a few comic books and DVDs in hand. "I forgot the latest issues came out today... Damn it, why is this line taking so long?" Kaz starts tapping his foot as his patience runs thin. "This sucks."

@Zelosse

@Mercurial

Lorken registered the words escaping the boys mouth, accepted that his skewed sense of reality had been warped by seeming disappointment, and ignored them entirely. The heel of his shoe hit Dahn hard in the jaw with enough force to potentially dislocate it. Mercifully such was not the case. The red Devil could feel the blood on his back dripping down. That sensation was not only unwelcome it was enough to almost enough to drive him to that dark point of madness that hovered at the edge of his mind.
A furious existence of Sadistic pleasures that had earned him the title of Scourge.

It was only thanks to the years of dedication to focus that such a beast had never risen to the surface.

Wiping away the thin line of sweat from his forehead onto the back of his arm, Lorken was quick to holster his firearm. A tad ashamed of having pulled it out but accepting that it had been a forced decision. That alone merited some credit on Dahns part.

Hands on his hips, Lorken stared down at Dahn. Felt the bitter cold of their eyes meeting bitterly.

"Dahn Umimura, you are accepted. Pick yourself up when you're ready and wait outside for the rest I feel are worth our time."

While the testing had not shown anything conclusive to match Lorkens criteria he had respect for someone stuck in the situation Dahn was in. With a dangerous Quirk like that it was wise to keep him from falling in line with how his father had come to money.

@Kuma

The damage inflicted wasn't as serious as Lorken had hoped. Truth be told he expected the boy to cry, to have his elbow break at an angle that made the appendage worthless until it could be set properly and heal. The truth of the matter was evident when the only result was an unpleasant sounding crack and a grimace of pain across the boys face before Yuri backpedalled out of close quarters to root around his bag.
Again with the milk.. Lorken had his doubts that a simple carton of milk was sufficient to keep the boys powers tip-top but that was the way of quirks.
Peculiar powers sometimes came with peculiar requirements.

Yuri, no longer displaying signs of pain, displayed his bruised body and his arms for display. Despite the grievous injuries, the tiny places where the sharp edge of the knife had cut his shirt and the skin beneath, Yuri seemed no less willing to carry on if Lorken asked him to.
It was clear Yuri was hopelessly outmatched in practical combat application and physical conditioning yet still he would persist against a superior opponent, not to prove anything so it seemed, but because it was asked of him perhaps?

Whatever the real reason behind the optimism it was enough to sway Lorkens final decision.

"You pass. We'll start by working on how to make the best use of your quirk. For now, wait outside till the testing is over."

---------------------
@Blu

"I'm going off school grounds. There's something important I have to do. Don't worry, this isn't an excuse to run away. I'll be back before long." At the exit, he turns around to face Lorken. "Hey, I want you to teach me how to punch." Kaz says with a serious expression and his left hand balled into a fist.

As Kazuto was heading to the door, Lorken cut him off.

"I want you to take the lessons seriously then."

-------------------

@liferusher

With no more students left to test, no more aches to ignore in the name of academic excellence, Lorken took the opportunity to stretch his tired body and was rewarded with a satisfying crack of his stiff shoulders. His clothes were bloody and now scars were going to paint his body when the drug finished the healing process but each one was a wound to be proud of.
Nearly every scar on his muscular frame was worth being proud of.

The Gymnasium door opened and there she was. The last one on his list of potential students, an insect mutation type quirk user by the name of Rikka Hirasawa. Normally he wouldn't have overlooked a student but she failed to arrive on the truck, failed to line up and announce herself, and had somehow managed to ignore the testing process every other student had gone through..
Fist clenched in anger he grabbed the top of Rikkas head while she was distracted and easily hoisted the girl into the air as he applied pressure, making the hold feel a bit like Lorken was trying to crush her skull like an egg.
With a sigh he pulled her into the gymnasium and spun her around until they were looking eye to eye, though Rikka was still held firmly in the iron grip of the red Devil.

Every inch of him was sore now. Bruised and battered, ultimately in no condition to a physical combat training exercise like he had with the others, and that meant Rikka would not be judged fairly. Not by his own standards at least.
Without a proper reason to kick her out besides 'you missed the bus' it wasn't in him to remove the girl from the school without proper confirmation that she didn't belong..

Blowing out a sigh as he placed his free arm across his back, Lorken dropped Rikka to the ground.

"You were tardy, missed the bus, and have only made yourself completely known at the end of the testing period. By rights you should be removed for multiple failures on your end to participate willingly and fully, but I'm just going to ignore it for now. Until such a time as you can be accurately judged to be worthy or not of participating in L.O.S.E.R. training you will simply be treated as a guest."

His unfocused expression soured into a glaring stare of disapproval as Lorken pointed one clawed finger at the closed door.

"Get out of my sight. Another tardy like this and you'll be dropped for good."

With Rikka dealt with for now, all thats left was the settling in.

-----------------------------

leaving just after Rikka did, a bit of irritation on his face, Lorken took a standing position in front of the gathered students. With each of them in about the same condition as he was it was clear they were all tired from the sudden conflict they had participated in. Addressing every student that had been accepted and remained waiting at the Gymnasiums doors, Lorken spoke sternly.

"You've all proven something to me today. You are unbroken. It's a good start to being a hero, so for now you are awarded free time. There are empty rooms in the basement of the house you entered through earlier that will serve as accommodations if you choose to live on the property. Those of you with family can shuttle here in the mornings by the truck from earlier. Take this time to recover and get familiar. Dismissed."

Lorken was the first to retire for the day. The fighting had gone on for longer than expected, it now being nearly noon with the sun high in the sky, and it had taken its toll. Hopefully the students would settle in quietly and avoid making a mess of his home in the process. If they did it meant discipline in the morning. If not, praise.
They would learn quickly that their new teacher had zero tolerance for clowns and troublemakers in his home. They were free to cook whatever meals they wanted, enjoy the use of the television, and explore the grounds as they saw fit.

Lorken however would take his relaxation upstairs to his personal chambers where no student was allowed to bother him without good reason. From there, it was a quick shower and some clean clothes before taking a spot on his chair with a light novel in hand.

(OK so its free-time until I update again. Take this opportunity to cause trouble. If you need to know anything about your surroundings that aren't covered already please ask me.)

The blurred image of Lorken grew larger in Gankona's inoperable, hazy sight. The hulking shoulders and chest of the devil heaved up and down as Gank was unceremoniously beaten, the boss's meaty hooks wailing away at the tired and unprepared goat boy. Raising his weary and scratched arms to try vainly to block some of Lorken's offensives, Gank found he was too slow, and a reaching presence brought a blanket of black and purples over Gankona's eyes.

When he came back to his senses, the goat boy found he had already lost. He shivered, his body sprawled on the ground like a ruffled rug of black fur. Gank stayed as a carpet for a moment, coughing up crimsoned blood and spittle in an arc onto the already decorated floor. Slowly, he brought himself up, an elbow hauling the child's lop-sided body to look up at Lorken.

A smile curled up into the boss's features, a grin of pride in creation, as if something wholesome had been created from this terrible encounter. Gankona could only meet the smile with his own smirk of accomplishment, blood trailing his lips like someone's makeshift attempt at applying lip gloss. Lorken had told him in a single bout of physicality what he was; Gank was a street-rat, with cripplingly ambitious aspirations of infamy. Only more challenge would change that. But, for now, the goat-boy would have to go and rest his mouth.

---

Suddenly, the soreness set in. It was like laying a huge puzzle-piece in an already painful puzzle, thus completing the picture of a needlessly damaged Gankona. He shivered for the third time, wracks of pain assaulting his joints and stressed muscles. With a strained cracking pervading his voice, Gank cut Karada from his practiced explanation. "Alright, cool, not moving. Great quirk. Oh, shit. Ok, I need to do something or I'm gonna die. I swear. Holy... ahg...", Gankona moaned, his mind darting through ideas of what to do to keep his person from deteriorating among the cramps and pains that continually slammed into his limbs and torso. Standing up with strained effort, a vague image of an Italian dish pulled from a trash-can coarsed through Gank's detrailed rain-of-thought. "Alright, I'm going to raid the cafeteria, if you punching-dummies want to eat, come with- shit, that hurt, no stretching... Come with me..."

---

Gankona drove his exasperated leg into the set of cafeteria doors, unintentionally breaking off the mundane lock and sending the green metal doors slinging to their respective sides. The goat-boy had now made both a dent in the company truck, and mess-hall door. What flashy entries he was capable of.

The cafeteria was really just a large, house-hold kitchen; nothing like Gank had seen at the homeless center. Marble counter-tops and wooden pantries laid inset in almost every corner, packed with food to feed the hungry likes of around a dozen kids a year. Gank trudged himself ahead of the other students and towards a particularly large cabinet. The kitchen had a stove, microwave, and a oven of course; but, more surprisingly, it also hosted the likes of a miniature fryer and panini press. Either Lorken liked his dishes always varied, or he had some weird company with equipment feeding the kids. Digging with reckless abandon into the drawers and cabinets as the other kids filed in, another memory darted itself through Gank's boggled mind as he picked up a small bag of flour.

"I saw some kids do this in a hole-in-the-wall diner once.", Gankona commented as he started to fiddle with the fryer, eventually settling on hitting the thing to turn it on. Residues of past oils sizzled at the bottom of the fryer, the shallow puddle of forgotten cooking liquid bubbling intently under the goat-boy. Dumping pinches of flour into the machine, Gank watched wearily as the substance slowly crystallized into a tan crust. The warmth of the fryer and its attractive crackling kept the goat-boy awake, his eyelids sloping but not closing entirely as he waited for his disgusting snack to form. If it weren't for the appeal of frying flour, he'd be out cold.

---

The heavily bruised Gankona quickly reached over, plucking the two cigarettes from Karada's hand and lighting the pair with Karada's outstretched lighter. Normally a grumble of annoyance would escape his throat, but considering his current condition, he honestly didn't feel up to the disgusting sticks of tobacco he handed off to Gank. After taking a puff and breathing out, Gankona responded to Karada.

"Did some shit, got hit by some shit, learned some shit. Really, it was mostly me getting into shit. How' bout you?
How did your little fight go?"

"I think I did pretty good for the most part, besides fucking up my leg."

Karada nodded down to the bloody bandages around his leg, before Gankona began to question him.

"Wait, what the hell is your quirk anyways?"

Karada leaned his head back against the gym building, the sounds of the fight going on inside barely registering in his ringing ears. Most people considered it rude to directly talk about another person's quirk - most were obvious, and it would be like asking about a person's kidneys or genitals. It was just something you don't usually do. Karada had that hammered into him ever since he was 4 - after all, what rich business man would want his kid to ask someone something so crude? But maybe that was what was so enjoyable about Gank - he seemed to not care about social status or proper conduct, he just said what was on his mind. Karada enjoyed that - he didn't have to second guess his actions around the goat boy.

"Well, whenever I'm not moving, I can't get hur-"

Gankona seemed to buckle over slightly, and a slight crackling permeated his voicee as he cut Karada off.

"Alright, cool, not moving. Great quirk. Oh, shit. Ok, I need to do something or I'm gonna die. I swear. Holy... ahg..."

Karada didn't question him as he rose up from his sitting position and made his way to the cafeteria, calling out as he did so. Karada could see that he was bruised, and the bleeding nose sure as hell didn't look good. He would have told Gank to throw some ice on the wounds, but doing that would just make him prideful and he would refuse to do it. Karada knew that - after all, he would do the same. Karada continued to wait, until eventually Lorken, massive figure and all, appeared with the final student. He then began his directions, telling the small group that they would be given rooms in the basement should they wish, and they were free to use any facilities as they saw fit. And with that, he turned, allowing the students to do as they wished. Before he got far, however, Karada had limped his way in front of the man, cutting off his way back to the school house.

"Excuse me sir, but could you give me directions to the nurses office -"

Karada gently tapped his bandaged leg.

"You cut me pretty deep, and I was planning to stitch it up soon."

After receiving directions, Karada tried (and unsuccessfully) to hide his limp as he made his way towards the nurses office.

---

Karada entered the room soon afterwards, arms filled with disinfectant and thread. The room was, like the rest of the house, fancy and ancient. It looked as if it came from a gilded age, and was taken care of very well. The room itself was large, only slightly smaller than his room at his old house. The carpet and bed reeked with the scent of age, like a library, and the desk near the corner of the room was made with a very fine wood, which Karada could not identify at a glance. The bed was standard, not like the queen-sized one he had at his old home. But then again, his door had a lock, so just that was a godsend for the Karada. Setting himself down on the chair next to the desk, Karada laid down the medical supplies. He had gone to the nurses office and, noticing no one present, simply decided to take the items he needed. After all, Lorken said that they were allowed to use the facilities here as they saw fit. Karada slowly locked his door, before he began to strip off his ruined pants - hopefully, there would be a uniform or something in the closet. Opening the wound revealed the terrible job his barely conscious self did - the wound was a furious red, and the occasional prodding elicited blood from the fleshy maw. Karada gently dabbed some disinfectant onto cotton balls, before he went about sanitizing the wound.

The pain was astounding, but nothing he wasn't expecting. He had dealt with wounds before, this was just worse than usual. Nothing he couldn't handle. After applying a liberal amount of disinfectant, Karada shakily grabbed the small needle and thread and, with several failed attempts, successfully tied the barely visible thread around the needles head. Karada immediately took some of the pain medication that he brought along with him - nothing nearly strong enough to make him not feel the pain of stitching up his wound. After all, he didn't want to fuck up his leg any worse than it already was, and he had a hard enough time of staying concentrated with the searing pain in his head. Several minutes passed as Karada allowed the medicine to work, and he felt the pain grow slightly duller, nowhere near as blinding as before. Gently, with surprising precision, Karada slid the needle through his flesh, suturing the wound. Finally, after what felt like an eternity (30 minutes), Karada was finished: his leg was in a far better condition. Given time, it would eventually return to normal. Karada sighed, sweat pouring down his body as he did so. The experience was godawful, to say the least. Rising shakily to his feat, Karada was careful to put as little pressure as possible onto his leg, and made his way to the closet. As he opened it, his suspicions were confirmed - inside, several neat school uniforms were hanging by hooks, ready to be worn. Karada dressed slowly, and made his way to the bathroom.

Inside the bathroom, Karada locked the door and proceeded to take a "Shower" - essentially, he washed his entire body with water and soap, except the stitches. He wasn't stupid, and knew that getting the suture wet was simply begging for infection. After drying himself carefully and inspecting the wound, Karada redressed and made his way to the cafeteria. He almost definitely had a concussion, so he would probably be able to find some caffeine and a meal to keep him awake.

Slowly the bug girl got herself back up to her feet again with a slight help of her wings by flapping them just a little. Lightly biting her lip she placed one hand on her other upper arm just below her chest softly squeezed it in fear of the others. She had been continuously looking away up till this point only having received a light glimps of the rest of her class. For what she saw there were mostly boys in the yard, maybe the girls were somewhere else? Or was she the only one? It was sort of a school for losers only but she didn't know that she was the only loser girl!? Maybe she was pulling conclusions too soon. Rikka gave a swift deep bow towards the others quickly dashing away towards the closest hiding spot, which was behind a solid pole holding the roof.

Rikka silently peeked at the others, there was one other girl in the midst of them but furthermore there were none. The one girl looked kind of small compared to the others but hey what was she too say. She was smaller then the most average people too. And certainly thinner, most of the times she was asked if she felt okay and ate well, just because she was thin didn't mean she had anorexia. Her quirk was the biggest part in that though, if she was like a bowling ball she wouldn't be able to fly.

She released a small gasp as she saw all the others clearly now, almost everybody was covered in blood and scrapes. It looked like they just came out of a war... Where had she ended up... Was she gonna be beat like this too? She hadn't seen a teacher yet, maybe it was better to sign her expelled paper right away...

Rikka looked a little worried and freaked out about this school as Lorken rose from behind the pillar with his demon looking shadow. Rikka her body stiffened for a moment in mere shock of feeling his presence. A big hand moved over the top of her head locking itself into place like a crane picking up a plushie. She knew the feeling of flying but this wasn't the type of flying she was happy with. Her feet and arms dangled for a moment as she took off. It was then contiued by vigorously moving her body around like a fish on dry land.



Rikka was crying as she was taken away into the slaughter hall. Before her last moment arose she was trying to reach out for help but only eyes trailed after her. The doors closed leaving the poor girl no chance of survival.

She was put down on the ground and was turned towards the way bigger person. Her eyes looking as terrified as they possibly could be. The hand was still placed on her head keeping the same pressure. Her head had already becomen nimb at this point. She was silently looking at the teacher, her eyes as wide as tennisballs. In any normal situation she would have already looked away by far at this point but she couldn't move her head one bit and this guy was seriously giving her nightmares right now. He gave her a big scolding for her sloppiness and let go of her head. She fell down to her butt quickly placing both her hands on her hurting head while silently whispering sorry a thousand times.

The big man told her to get out from his vicinity by pointing his big hand at the way they came in. Rikka quickly flutter back to her feet and ran towards the door sobbing with two hands on her head.

She bursted through the door not thinking about anything at the moment. She was quick to get back to her old hiding place and sat down softly sobbing while she was still silently whispering to herself to neglect the thoughts. She took some time off, hopefully nobody thought too much about it. She wouldn't want to let it become a rumor or a bad memory for any of them.

After a short 10 minutes most people had left to do some else what they wanted themselves. Rikka had cooled down a little after her short outburst. She was still acting like a kid. How did it come that she suddenly ended up in the army in the first place. Rikka slowly got up while whipping away the last of her tears. She probably looked horrible so the first thing she had to do was get towards a restroom. Most people had gathered at the canteen it seemed so she did the same, she was quite hungry.

Once in the canteen she made her way towards the kitchen area seeing that it had not really anything like kitchen staff... It was just a plain kitchen whicj they could use, but off course. Rikka looked a little irritated for a minute but decided to make the best from it. She couldn't really cook so it was plain food. The goat guy made a frying party out of it it seemed. She took some bread, cheese and ham and just put it on the bread toaster. Plain but good. Short after she took place at one of the empty tables and silently ate. Reminder, take own food with you tomorrow. She made too many, she wasn't a big eater and ended up making 2 toasties of which she only ate a half... She couldn't just throw away her food either. Her dad usually ate her remains and on school she would just take it home or give it to her friend.

Rikka bit her lip and glanced around... Maybe goat boy wanted some? He seemed like a big eater and not an all to scary looking person. Rikka was kind of terrified to ask him but if her toasties got cold nobody would want them... Rikka swiftly got up and slowly made her way to goatboy his table. Her knees were clicking against each other from all the shaking and her tray was shaking just as hard. Her voice was shaking with her head was as red as a beet, she tried making as less eye contact as possible.



Her vision was twirling, it was to see that she was getting dizzy from all this social contact. She wasn't the best talker...



Smooth

---

Hearing the words "you pass" was a bit of relief for the young man, as he wipes the blood from his face and then smirks as he stands upright. "Feh... Hurt like a bitch to prove it though... And I need to slip in a new pair of clothes." He says this as he respectfully bowed, picking up his items before throwing his cartons and putting his jacket back on, then head back to the building for food and to change his clothes.

His wounds didn't really hurt after a bit, as his skin did what it always did; cover up the wounds so his skin could be in tip top condition for the purpose to make more bone armor and weapons for fighting or defending himself. He cleaned himself up and then put on a new set of clothes before putting his jacket away. He then made his way to the cafeteria, still as sore as ever from the training session he had with the big guy. He entered into the kitchen to make himself some food, raising an eyebrow at the fact there's no kitchen staff. Then again, it was the lowest that he could get. So, he might as well make some his own food.

He then gets out some ingredients like flour, yeast, sugar and other miscellaneous items to presumably make pizza... probably a small one due to the scarcity of the said ingredients. Still, pizza was still pizza. He then followed his own recipe from heart with starting to make the dough, yawning. "Jeez, the big guy doesn't even have much here... Must eat something like saltines or something lame like a whole bunch of medium rare meat... heh..." He muttered the joke to himself, then he turned his attention over to the two. "Hey, you guys want pizza? I think I can make mini ones with the ingredients here."

A small dinger at the back of the fryer notified Gankona that his treat was ready, and so was he. His eyes had glazed over during his wait, and his head dangerously bobbed over the vat of grease as he struggled to keep himself anchored to reality. His eyes shot open at the sound of the fryer's ring, as if the contraption had been a set alarm clock. The goat-boy slowly looked into the shallow fryer to inspect the effects of flour and heated oil.

Huh. Just little... crispies. The skin of fried chicken, with no chicken. Honestly, it was a boring outcome, but it was something. The kids at the diner had certainly been ecstatic for these nuggets, but Gankona, especially in his now semi-conscious state, felt a bit let down. At least the endeavor to create these crisps had kept him awake. But, what now? Just eat and then fall asleep, he guessed. 'No other way to keep myself awake, and the other students don't look like the talkative types. Oh well. My headache is starting to subside anyways.' The goat-boy banged the fryer with his elbow to turn it off, and then reached in for his prize.

Gankona gave a slight yelp as he plunged his hand into the fryer. It was a disgusting kind of burn, the acidic slime of the grease cauterizing the thin scratches along his hand as it started to fry him. God, how stupid could he be? Of course you let the oil cool down before reaching in.


Gank tensed a little as he swam his hand through the oil for the 5 crisps that had sunk to the bottom. Pulling his over-sized hand out of the fryer, along with his lunch, the goat-boy gave a slight grimace at the now bright red exterior of his hand. That had definitely woken him up. Nothing like plunging your hand into an active fryer.

---

Gankona went to sit down at one of the fold-able lunch-tables found outside of the kitchen, grey plastic counter-tops positioned in a decorated dining room. What great trust Lorken had in this class, letting them loose around such fragilities as his dining room. The goat-boy started to pop the crispies into his mouth, crunching them one by one with his sore jaw. However, before he could pop in his third greaseball, the sound of clacking knees caught his attention.

A petite girl, smaller than even the red-head, started to approach Gankona's table. Really, it was a comical sight; her face was as red as the plastic tray, and she held one and half grilled-cheese-and-ham sandwiches on that little thing. She talked with an almost debilitating stutter.


Gankona, hardened by the streets and sore to the bone, could not help but feel bad for the girl. He'd had a horrible case of shyness in his younger years as well, but soon got over it (you can't tell a person to give up the fucking money! when you're stuttering). Nevertheless, he got the memo of how hard the girl was trying to share her toasties. What pure innocence.


Gankona reached out his spare arm and took a bite from the half-toastie the girl presented. "Heh. Better than eating out of the garbage, I'll tell you that.", the goat-boy answered. He waved to the seat opposite to him. "Sit down, you seem a little antsy. Want a... hmm... crispy? Sure, I'll call it that.", Gank offered, rolling a ball-shaped crisp over to the mosquito girl.

Another sound caught Gankona's attention, this time a voice coming from the kitchen. "Hey, you guys want pizza? I think I can make mini ones with the ingredients here."

---

A final sound caught the goat-boy's attention, this one having been after he had quickly finished all of Rikka's toasties. Karada walked boldly through the cafeteria doors, his coat and hair as smart as ever. 'Pretty-boy went to freshen up, huh?', Gankona silently thought. The true ram was the first to address the blonde's entrance.

"Ay, Karada, throw me two cigs and a light. I need my sixth smoke for the day.", Gankona asked, catching the two cancer sticks in the air and the match afterwards. "I think the other blondie is gonna make pizzas. Take a seat if you want.", the boy continued, starting to light both cigarettes.

The goat boy had dumbfoundedly put his hand in the fryer... That was an odd thing to do. He didn't seem all that bothered with his burned hand short after. Must have been some form of adrenaline kick or the general aspect of not feeling hurt. It might be just a good thing to remember that he won't go down so easily. Rikka took a quick gulp and approached the goat boy.

---

The goat boy just took one of the toasties without a word and munched on the toasted piece of bread. It was declared better as garbage so Rikka should feel a little happy at least.

The goatboy offered her a seat soon after that in which she gave a polite nod and sat down across him. Her head was pointed at the table in front of her with the same red face she had before. Gankona looked scary with his big hands and bulky exterior. He had big muscles and a scary looking face, it would be a problem if he got hold of her. Probably wouldn't take long for her to be crushed by a giant like this.

Rikka was offered something that was called a crispy? Looked like some sort of cchicken nugget in her eyes. Rikka shakingly stretched her frail arm out to take the crispy from Gankona. She broke it in half and place the other bit back on the plate again. She took a small bite out of the crispy, it was good but maybe still a bit to oily. She munched the last bit down and felt a bit of pressure on her stomach. She was eating herself sick at this point.

One of the blonde guys had offered to make them some pizza. Rikka shook her head a little declining the offer with a somewhst inaudible voice.



Rikka stared at the pizza making blondie a while longer. She liked blonde, she would like to have her hair dyed blonde or any other color once in her life. Rikka was taken off guard by the goat boy making her a bit redder again after she had finally had become a bit calmer again. Did he see her stare at the blonde boy!? She wished she could die about now... Was he offering her a cigarette? Rikka appeared to be a bit freaked out from that offer. Did she look old enough? Not that she wanted any either way.

---

---

On the walk home, or rather back to L.O.S.E.R., Kaz garners quite a few looks from passerby on account of his bodily injuries. Kaz doesn't notice however as he is often lost in his existential thoughts. "Why are we here? Only to suffer? How do I know that I exist? Maybe I don't. Maybe none of us do. Maybe we're all fictitious characters created by some random people on an internet forum somewhere-" Kaz's train of thought is stopped when he violently bumps into the pole of a street light.

Some time later, Kaz arrives back at the shabby academy, having missed the congratulatory speech delivered earlier by Lorken. He enters from the front and walks the hall. His eyes seem focused if not devoid of all hope. This is a man on a mission. He stops at one particularly point in the hallway and stares down the object of his anxiety: the crooked portrait he saw earlier in the day. "This won't do."

Encompassing the soul of a rebellious revolutionary, Kaz will defy the "no touching" rule of the tyrant, Lorken, for the good of the people. Setting his bag down so that both hands are free, he proceeds to fix this blight on humanity. As soon as his finger tips make contact with the portrait, it falls forward and onto the floor—the wooden frame breaking apart in several places with a sticker saying "Made in China" apparent on one of the pieces.

Why are we here? Only to suffer? Kaz picks up the broken wooden frame pieces and the portrait canvas itself and briskly hides them behind a nearby table before walking away whistling. The outline of where a portrait once hung can clearly be seen in the wake of what will later be referred to as simply "the incident". And even it's crooked.

Where to now? There's like- What? Two other people in this whole damn place? Kaz hasn't bumped into anyone yet. Maybe an excursion to the cafeteria will reveal something of interest. Taking a beating sure does embolden the hunger pangs. Wandering aimlessly around, he somehow makes his way to his destination in like a minute. It isn't all that big of a place really.

As soon as he steps inside, he sees the goat boy—what was his name again? Wank Cobra? And the guy that looks exactly like Kaz himself if Kaz was taller, better looking, have more muscle mass, is not plagued by anxiety, and drinks lots of dairy. This man is his eternal rival. And then a sweat drop travels down the side of Kaz's face. What the hell is he looking at? Kaz reaches into his grocery bag and pulls out a can of bug spray, shaking it as he walks toward the group in the kitchen.

---

Pushing open the two doors, Karada made his way into the cafeteria to see that it was fairly populated. The goat boy, Gank, was sitting at the table, alongside the white-haired girl from earlier. While he didn't see who it was, he did hear another person in the connected kitchen, and the sounds of bubbling oil revealed that a still active fryer was being used. The room itself was, like the rest of the house, old and beautiful. Karada walked forwards, making his way towards the kitchen while doing his best to hide the limp, before Gankona noticed and called out to him.

"Ay, Karada, throw me two cigs and a light. I need my sixth smoke for the day."

Karada reached into his pocket, pulling out two cigarettes and one of the matches he had with him. He tossed the two to Gankona. Most people would probably be a little pissed that someone was going through their cigarettes so quickly, but Karada really couldn't care less - He rarely got past a single pack in a month, and he hated the taste anyways. Gankona caught the three items, revealing the condition of his hand - it was red, and had slight burns all across it. They looked fairly minor, and looking at his plate revealed that he most likely spilled grease on his hand while cooking. The chunks of fried material seemed to be too small to be fried chicken or a meat product, and Karada was stumped on what it was. Karada was about to turn and enter into the kitchen to make himself a sandwich, before Gankona called out again.

"I think the other blondie is gonna make pizzas. Take a seat if you want."

Karada sighed slightly. He was thankful to the blond boy, 'Yuri' if he remembered from the introductions they made. Karada was very tired from the fight and patching up his wound, so not needing to make your own food was a very nice prospect. Slowly, Karada made his way over to the table that the two were seated at, before gently lowering himself into a chair. The girl seemed to have a plate of grilled cheese, with some meat inside of the bread, and was just as small as she was earlier. Karada now noticed that Gank was offering her the second cigarette, to which she was vehemently refusing to take. At least he wasn't the only person who didn't like the taste of cigarettes, but the fact that the bug girl didn't like smoke was pretty hilarious. Karada turned his head quickly to the boy that had just entered, the black haired young man that entered throwing a glance to the table before slowly reaching into his bag and pulling out a small tube...

It was bug spray. A slight chuckle escaped Karada's throat, before he stifled it quickly. He found the expression on the boy's face to be completely hilarious, and the careful way he walked towards the group only added onto the humor. Quickly, Karada adopted a straight face. After all, he was supposed to be the serious guy. He chose to acknowledge Kaz's existence, but not comment.

Instead, he turned to the group. Perhaps this would be a good time to get to know one another, to learn each other's stories. Perhaps they could find some common ground with one another. Of course, Karada had no desire to share the circumstances for his coming here, and chose to instead sit with the group in silence, awaiting for Yuri to finish the meal. All the while, he did his best to avoid the white-haired girl's gaze. He still was apprehensive towards women. After all, he was nearly inconsolable after the incident that sent him to Reject High, so it would be understandable. Despite this, he still felt childish for being afraid of a girl he was nearly a foot taller than and must have been nearly double her weight.

Rikka kindly rejected Gankona's offering, jittering and refusing the harmful exchange after asking if the goat-boy was old enough to smoke. "Sure I am. You can make the decision to sacrifice your lungs at anytime you want", Gank replied cheerfully, leaning back in his chair and popping the second cigarette into his mouth as he let out big puffs of smoke.

"Oh, right, you don't like it.", Gankona said nonchalantly to the mosquito girl, tilting his head to the ceiling as to direct the smoke clouds away from her. Karada took his desired seat next to the duo, his face a little too serious for the relaxed air pervading the kitchen, and seemed to watch the new host of people around him with silent interest. 'Might as well introduce ourselves', Gankona thought, his hands plucking the cigarettes from his mouth as he exhaled more smoke upwards and began to talk.

"This is Karada, Mosquito-girl. He's a rich kid. He's got lots of cigarettes and a winning poker-face. I'm Gankona.", the goat-boy informed, placing the cigarettes back into his mouth as he began to lean dangerously far in his metallic fold-up chair. "Can I get your name? Let me guess. Is it Bagu? Maybe Hikō?", Gank continued.

---

Gankona looked up from his group to see the approaching figure of black-haired male. He seemed scrawny, poorly-fit, and overall a real oddball. The goat-boy sorta liked his look. His approach was a charismatic snap-shot, too; the boy hesitantly approaching what seemed to be Rikka with a can of bug-spray leveled towards her. Hah, now that was a fantastic plan if the goat-boy had ever seen one.

In the boy's other hand, however, swang a plump grocery bag. The contents were mostly square and papery objects, probably some comic-books or something. Hell, the goat-boy might as well take a look. If you brought books, you should at least have enough to share with the class. It would only be fair.

Getting up from his terribly balanced chair, Gankona strolled over to the approaching Kaz. His cigarettes loosely dangled from his parted lips, those of which curled up in a sly smile. Puffing a wispy strain of gray smoke to the right of Kaz, Gank positioned his massive hand over the bug-spray's comparatively frail muzzle and starting to squeeze. A satisfying popping sound released itself from the canister, the head of the spray can collapsed by the goat-boy's grease-fried hand muscles. Just like a police pepper-spray; easily collapsible.

Gankona greeted the boy quickly after dismantling his 'weapon'. "Nice to meet ya'. Mind if I take a looksee?", the goat-boy chimed, his spare hand going down and picking up the full plastic-bag from the black-haired kid's grasp. Shuffling through the contents, Gankona found that the whole bag was just anime, manga, and a few snack-bars. Not much variety in the literature however; most of it was action-related. Plucking up what seemed to be the most easily-readable comic, Gank tossed the bag back to the kid before stating, "I'll borrow this real quick, gotta pass the time while blondie makes pizzas."

Gank sat himself back down at his chair, hoisting it backwards in another dangerous lean as he read the twentieth issue of Mob Psycho 900,000. Two streams of grey smoke floated up and away from his dual cigarettes.

---

---

Oftentimes, Kaz finds himself lost in tunnel vision. That's the case with the crooked painting, and that's the case now with this... mosquito girl. You can land a jet plane behind him right now and he would be none the wiser. Incidentally taking advantage of this fact is the goat boy who Kaz can only vaguely remember the name of.

Slinking towards him, the goat boy crushes the nozzle of Kaz's bug spray and purloins one of his comics. Kaz finally comes to his senses after being mind diddled by seeing Mosquito-chan when he attempts to spray the chemical her way only to find that nothing happening. "Huh?"

He looks around the room as if to figure things out and only realizes what has happened when he sees Drank Soda with one of his books. "H-He's fast...!" No, you're just dense. He leaves the goat boy with his comic for now as he seems harmless enough and walks into the kitchen where the blonde dairy lover―think his name is "Yaoi" or something―is making a pizza. Cheese... Dairy... Perfectly in character for him.

Kaz sees a coffee maker in the corner. Coincidentally (all according to plan), Kaz bought some coffee mix. He gets to work, meticulously letting the machine do everything for him. After about seven minutes, he pours himself a cup, walks over to the table, and takes a seat. At the table sat Prank Yoga, Missquito, and the chain-smoking young man whose age eludes Kaz still―seemingly oblivious to the fact that goat boy also smokes. Karada right? Kaz takes a longer than normal sip of his coffee while he stares daggers into the bug girl.

After an excruciatingly long time of silent piercing stares, Kaz finally speaks up. "Excuse me," he starts, talking directly to the bug girl, "can you pass the blood- err, sugar?" Kaz asks in an entirely nonchalant and impassive manner. Whether she does so or not, Kaz would eventually wind up with sugar which he then―all the while maintaining his blink-less gaze―unsympathetically pours an offensive amount into his cup, so much so that it had to be censored for general audiences.

The blonde hunk had thrown two sigarets for the goat to smoke together with a match. Did they still use matches till this day? Rikka was definitely certain it was somewhat out of ordinary to use matches instead of the everyday modern lighter but hey, what was she to know about that.

The goat offered one to her which she hardly declined and went on with his own smoke. Apparently you could smoke any age you wanted... Rikka softly glanced the other way in disbelief. He was probably not that much older than her and just didn't care about the needed age to smoke. Wonder what the teacher thought about that. In the popular show Two Piece the cook smoked often too during and after the fights so maybe he and they used it as stress or pain reliever?

Rikka covered her mouth and nose when he lit the sigaret. The smoke wasn't directed at her but she still found there to be a lot of it. She didn't want to bother the goat with her demands of him not smoking here so she endured it for the short time the sigaret would last. Goat boy had taken notice and blew the puffs of smoke upwards instead what made it a little less worse.

The blonde boy sat down at the seat opposite of her, she quietly stared at him for a while. He looked pretty... She gazed at his blonde hairs, she really liked those. They looked shiny and seemed soft, she felt like touching them but held herself back for now.

Her gaze was broken by the goat boy suggesting to introduce themselves to each other. Wasn't half bad to know names from her upcoming classmates. The blonde was Karada and the goat was Gankona. Okay. Off course Rikka had to introduce herself too which got her a bit flabbergasted. It was only logical that she had to tell them her name too. Rikka quickly looked the other way while softly rubbed her hands together between her legs. It was clear she was still a bit shy for the others, seemingly from her red face. Rikka snapped her mouth open to deny the fact that she was called any of the crazy names the goat boy told her.



With a pout on her face she folded her arms and looked the other way which seemed like a smart idea at the time, but she would have never guessed that one of her classmates would try to kill her! The sudden feeling of a condensed liquid in the air made her feel somewhat nauseous and dizzy. Rikka held her hand before her mouth as she started heavily coughing. A look the other way revealed the bastard doing all this. He was spraying some insect spray in the air above the table. While Rikka was an insect but also mostly human it did not kill her. It would only weaken her enormous strength a little. Rikka ducked under the table still revealing her wings just a little.



Rikka was all curled up beneath the table with both hands covering the top of her head. The spraying had already stopped but she didn't want the lingering bug spray to get her.

After a few minutes she stood up from under the table again taking some distance between her and the table. She was holding her own body, her knees clicking against each other while her upper body was turned away from the others somewhat. Her eyes were a bit teary but nothing to make a fuz about. She felt molested by this asshole! How could he do this to her! Her wings were slightly twitching from time to time. She couldn't move them with this spray all over them.

The black haired insect fighter just left, he just walked into the kitchen area without word and seemed to stay away. Rikka waited a few more moments before releasing a long sigh and standing normally again. She sat back down at the table looking at her own lap with an awkward look on her face. This wasn't how she planned her day to go.

A while later the insect hater sat back down again way too close for her taste but she ignored it for now. She was receiving constant peers from him and just couldn't relax with him nearby. So when he finally decided to speak she almost jumped up straight but couls barely hold onto her seat. Her whole body was trembling as her wide eyes stared back at the boy.



She gulped once more while waiting for the patient boy to say what he wanted to say... He was asking for her to pass the sugar while casually mistaking it for blood... Rikka stared at him with a happy dead look in her eyes for about a minute before turning her gaze down at the bottles of various salts and spices. She stared at them for a whole minute with the same happy dead look in her eyes. She gently placed her hand on the small tray with spices and slowly shoved it towards him. They were sitting opposite of each other and he could easily reach it before he even asked. But she wouldn't decline so she had shoved the tray a whole 10 centimeters towards him.

He had unknowingly taken the salt from the tray and began pouring it in his coffee... Rikka gazed at the salt pouring in his coffee. She didn't know what to say she just sat there with the same dumb smile and zombie look in her eyes. The salt was about towering over his cup now and he didn't show signs of stopping... It was muck brown. Who would even try to drink this at this point, he was just joking about now.

The morning ritual began as it had since L.O.S.E.R was established. The clawed hand of the principal tapped the off-switch to the bedside clock barely an instant after it attempted to ring, but as always the red-skinned Devil had risen before it could serve its function. Up and out of his soft sheets and into the bathroom he performed the daily ritual of a quick shave, cold shower, and donned his usual attire but did not put on the thick coat as had been done the day before. Instead it was just his vest and dress shirt below.
On next was the pistol and harness, along with the two blades. This time they were kept on the left and right hip instead of an X across his back. The cane was a lost cause after all the fighting yesterday, his hand was still sore from where Karada had dug into the flesh like a true animal.
Even Gankona refused to sink that low while they had sparred.

The medicine had given the wound a nice scar to add to the tapestry of injuries across his body and thus was promptly ignored. Lord knew how sore he really was, barely checking up on the students. He fully expected to walk into a mess in the kitchen or even just a bunch of rotten food and dishes.
If such was the case there would be hell to pay when Lorken rewatched the tapes to see who was going to be scrubbing the floors clean with a toothbrush all day. Some students had honestly expected the Devil Principal to take some sort of sadistic pleasure in mistreating the, as one student had claimed after graduation, "Meat that served as students". The group had laughed it off and parted on good terms. Lorken had even kept regular contact after they had become pro heroes or not.

Every group that served under him were given a very strict set of rules after their first night unsupervised in his home. Those who broke it were themselves broken in, being denied the right to train on school grounds and reduced to janitors until the matter was resolved.



At the small PC in the corner he printed off a number of sheets to be distributed later, filing them away on one of the many Cubbys resting above. Over a dozen in total and only a few of them empty. The lists and files inside were routinely sent out to contacts along the wider net of his associates.
Multiple orders for everything the school/home needed: Food, uniforms, medical supplies, groundskeepers, tutors. Various receipts lined the drawers below for old services paid in full. Keeping the lights on and equipment in working order was a costly affair, financially speaking. Lorken kept everything running smooth as possible day after day, year after year, with his meticulous and careful thinking.
Hero costumes were to be ordered today for the new students, registration was available if they showed progress and so the proper forms would need to be filled out. That means they needed codenames they approved. That would be dealt with today.

"Is there anything else.." Musing out loud as he always did, Lorken shook his head and continued with the daily routine. Most of the people he needed to speak with wouldn't be up for another couple hours and their services not for a few more hours after that.



The kitchen wasn't quite the disaster he had envisioned it being but that was not the same as being fine. Some dirty dishes, grease stains on the god damn floor, cigarette smoke was not fresh but Lorken could still smell it clear as day. The security footage from the hidden cameras had revealed what was already common knowledge. Karada and Gankona smoked like chimneys and lacked a braincell between the two that was strong enough to suggest doing it outside.
Instead they did it right here, in Lorkens home, in the middle of their new school, without a care in the world. Kazuto had run off somewhere, lord knows where he could have gone to since the nearest buildings were other homes and the only way back to the city proper was by shuttle, but that wasn't an issue. Spraying bugspray or some kind of cologne had added a thin layer of dirt to the otherwise pristine floor and tables.
Salt was also laying on the ground and table. Again the tape had revealed the culprit..

No respect..



Lorken wiped away the sweat on his forehead with a paper towel before promptly throwing it in the trash. Counters had been wiped down, fresh oil replacing the used and crumb-ridden mess that Gank had failed to clean up after, any trace of a smell from the unwashed bodies and dirt had been all but erased. Dishes had also been put through the wash. There was only one thing left to do..

Breakfast was a sacred thing for Lorken, a meal he loved more than anything else, so making a good meal was essential. The dietary requirements for the students who needed them hadn't been drawn up yet so for now it was a fend for themselves kind of morning. Lorkens meal was a classic favorite, eggs benedict with thick cut back bacon served on an english muffin. The hollandaise was always a pain but the rewarding taste was always worth the effort.
By the time the he ate, cleaned up, and cleared away the clutter, the bell was about to ring.





Every student was expected to be on the grounds and ready by 7am. That meant showered and clean, in uniform, waiting for Lorkens instructions for the day to begin. Class time was short and simple; Mornings they would normally go through cleaning up after whatever mess was made the day before and setting up the environments for the days lesson. Mid-day to noon were for basic tutelage like reading, writing, math, and a bit of hero history. The afternoons were dedicated to hero training exclusively.
Stamina building, free weights, obstacle courses, firing range, Quirk building. Whatever a hero-to-be needed to develop in order to reach their goals would be dealt with.
When classes were done it was fair game. Lorken was judge/jury/executioner to the rule breakers in his home, and rarely a teacher. Discipline at home was to respect house and home. Those who were found intolerable or incapable to listen to the rules set by Lorken when it came to how they acted outside school hours were removed from it, though usually they were just told to sleep outside in the shed for a week.

Nothing fixed poor attitude like a few days out in the freezing cold.

RIIIIIIIIIING!

Every room occupied by a student had a built in alarm for 6am and would ring every 30 seconds until Lorken, standing outside their doors, deactivated the system via panel kept locked.

"RISE AND SHINE, DESPOILERS OF MY HOME. EVERYONE OUT HERE NOW."

As loud as he could, his voice cutting through even the ringing of the bell, Lorken shouted into the basement hallway.

Gankona took his sweet time reading Kaz's newly bought manga, flipping through the pages as he tried to follow the progression of a story that had already been laid out in many previous, unread installments. It seemed like the comic followed the exploits of a boy with an unnaturally strong emitter quirk, fighting against a corrupt organization; what a tale. Oh well, in the off-time the L.O.S.E.R class was granted, Gankona deemed this reading to be worth at least some of his time.

Slowly, the class started to filter out of the kitche-teria. Yuri made his pizzas and distributed them, the Goat-boy being a little disappointed his wasn't fried, and then started his way out to tend to his bruises and cuts. The others followed suit, trickling out to go tend to some business of their's, be it physical or mental. Gank was finally left alone when Karada departed, the fellow smoker wishing the goat-boy a goodnight and a thanks for the brief chat they had about their respective battles. Gank returned the gesture, putting his long-legs up onto the table and returning to his book shortly after the blondie's departure. 'Goodnight? I know I'm a slow-reader, but is it really that late?', the true ram pondered, quickly looking up at the electric clock positioned above the dining room's entrance.


Gankona, a little awed by the time it took him to read a 280 page comic book, left the manga on the plastic grey table and started his way back into the kitchen. Picking up the remnants of some snack-bars left by the absent-minded Kaz, the true ram started his way to his assigned dorm-room, pleasantly trotting out of the mess he helpfully created. He didn't even bother to close the doors.


With some navigation help by the campus janitor, Gankona found himself in the school basement/dormitory. It was a modest section of the school, decorated just like the rest yet just a bit smaller. There were about a dozen or so rooms in total, each a private space able to comfortably accommodate a single student with it's maroon decor, single bed and toiletries. Gankona was assigned to the room farthest down the hall, nuzzled into the back of this shared living-space. Many of the other students had already made themselves comfortable in their respective rooms, so Gankona passed down the quiet hallway to his own living quarters.

Gankona never did remember the last time he ever had a room to himself; perhaps he never had. Tossing his empty candy-wrappers into the room's trashcan, Gank plopped himself down onto the relatively expansive covers of his private bed. It felt much better than a shelter cot; that was something he was deeply grateful for. The fatigue that had been kept at bay by Gankona's appetite started to wash over the goat-boy in the silence of his bedroom. The true-ram laid on top of his bed's covers, not intending to tuck himself in in order to fall into a deep sleep...

---

A dull pain brought Gankona out of his nearly comatose state, his dancing wits and morning headache drawing the goat-boy's feet off his bed and onto the cold wooden floor. "Shit, what time is it?", the true ram murmured to himself as he awakened, looking around his room and into the pale-blue light that lightly shined through it's window. The crimson numbers of the alarm clock caught Gank's attention first; 5:00 AM, they stoically read. The thought and presence of time pulled the goat-boy farther into reality. 'Heh, so the boss let me sleep in a hour. So nice of him.', Gankona thought to himself, memories of 4 AM at the homeless shelter flashing through his mind. Stretching his long, furry arms upwards, the goat-boy took another glance at the night-stand beside his bed, that of which held the undisturbed alarm clock. A grayish black bundle of clothes and a medical kit laid silently beside the electronic, neglectfully unaddressed by the goat-boy the night before in favor of a quick sleep.

Glancing down at his torso, Gankona was reminded of the need for a medical kit. His bruises had never been taken care of, nor had his hygiene. Touching the top of his forehead, the goat-boy could feel a trail of thick scabs starting to form under the crest of his unruly hair. His fur was exceedingly matted, with clumps of midnight black hairs practically covering his body. His tail, too, was afflicted; the fluffy black end of the appendage becoming increasingly clumpy and droopy. He hadn't been in such a damaging battle for such a long time, his ability to go and cause trouble having been denied by police custody. He had to get back into the swing of things. But, for now, he'd be damned if he didn't take some extra time to freshen up. It would be good to clean up the giant bug-bite on his back before it got infected, anyways... 'Wait, a bug-bite?' Straining his neck over his shoulder, the true ram spotted a giant red blob starting to form on his uncovered back. He never remembered getting a bug-bite at all yesterday, most definitely not during his battle with Lorken. Perhaps it was just an allergic reaction to something in the dirty fryer oil; the goat-boy wouldn't be surprised if that was the case. Oh well, it was just another bump to add to the vast collection across his body. Gank's headache started to fade as he entered his bathroom.


After taking a shower, painstakingly brushing his mass of fur, shaving, putting some ointment on his bite, then bandaging all of his wounds (there were many), Gankona came out of his newly messied bathroom and back into his still silent bedroom. Coming over to his bedside table, the goat-boy looked down onto the assigned uniform he was to wear. The sharp student's outfit was a sudden point of controversy for the true ram, his tradition of shirtless wardrobes coming to a halt in front of this mandatory school uniform. To Gankona, shirts resembled the most personal types of restraints; It was a piece of cloth that stuck to his skin, restraining his arms and stopping his chest from breathing as deep as it wanted. Shirts were like dog collars to the true ram. He considered tossing it for a split second, and saying that he had never received the clothing article at all. That might've worked on some dumb civilians, but never on the calculating Lorken. If he said that, the boss would either take it as an idiotic insult or some joke. The goat-boy might as well wear the full uniform; it's better to play docile than to become domesticated. The true ram was going to be living under Lorken's roof and rules, after all.

Besides, once he got the uniform on, he could go over to Karada's room for a smoke. The student-body was supposed to be ready only by 7:00 AM, so the goat-boy had a hour. The blondie would probably be up by 6:00, anyways.


A piercing shout rang through the halls, the authority of Lorken stirring the rest of the sleeping children awake and into exasperated position. Gankona especially was suprised by the yell, his alarm-clock not even having a chance to signal to the goat-boy the coming of 6:00 AM before the boss did so himself. The goat-boy sighed and regained his composure, returning to his activity of dressing himself in school uniform. Buttoning the top of his coat and slipping on his provided dress shoes, the true-ram opened his door and waltzed out into the hall to meet Lorken.

"Morning, Chief. Guess we're both early birds.", the goat-boy greeted his teacher, strolling along the long hall to meet him. He scratched his back lightly; this bug-bite was gonna be a pain all day.

---

Overall, the situation of the stolen manga was faifly one-sided. Gankona simply kept the manga out of the shortie's reach, reading it while occasionally popping one of the peculiar fired objects he had into his mouth. Karada simply sat, slightly bemused at the situation unfolding, choosing not to interject. Between that and the interactions between Kaz and Rikka, Karada was presented an excellent show. And what was a show without dinner - Yuri, the other blondie made his way out of the kitchen area, before setting down several slices of pizza, which Karada accepted gratefully. He was used to cooking his own meals, and having someone else do it once in a while felt very nice.

The other kids, all seeming like they had something they needed to do, began to file out one after the other, until eventually only the delinquent pair of Gankona and Karada remained. Silence dominated this space, and while they occasionally entered into a conversation about their battle or what they expected the next day, Gank seemed fine with the silence. He had Kaz's manga to read, after all. Checking the clock on the wall and seeing that the time was already 8:40, Karada rose from his seat at the table, before walking away. As he did so, he held up a hand and called out to Gank.

"Night man, I gotta get some sleep. See ya tomorrow."

Karada heard a slight grunt of acknowledgement from Gank, followed by the turning of a page, and then closed the door to the cafeteria. Slowly he made his way to the basement, doing his best to not put pressure on his leg. Not trying to brag, but he thought he was pretty good at walking with the injury by this point. Finally, he managed to make it to his room and, after removing the shirt, jacket and shoes of his uniform, before turning off the lights and slipping into bed. Just as he did so, a thought came over him - How would he wake up in the morning? He wasn't particularly gifted at waking up on his own, and he didn't even know what time he needed to wake up by. A cursory look around the room alleviated his fears, however - near the far side of the room, next to some panel, was 3 bright red numbers that said 8:55 PM. Confident that this was an alarm clock, Karada allowed his exhausted body to fall into a deep slumber, not even questioning if the alarm clock was turned on.

---

If the blaring sound of what could only be described as a school bell rang throughout his room. Karada jumped to alertness, having always been a light sleeper since the choking incident, and quickly made his way to the alarm to shut off the blaring noise emanating from it. It was only then that Karada noticed - the alarm itself had no buttons attached to it that could shut it off, and the only thing that even seemed like controls was the panel directly next to the alarm itself. A sharp pain spread throughout Karada's body as the adrenaline wore off, and Karada quickly made his way to the desk of medical supplies. Taking off his pants, Karada sighed in relief. The pain was from putting to much pressure on the leg, but thankfully, the stitches were still in place. Karada considered taking some pain medication to help with the searing in his leg, but the deep cutting voice of Lorken pierced through the alarm's shrill.

"RISE AND SHINE, DESPOILERS OF MY HOME. EVERYONE OUT HERE NOW."

Karada quickly pulled up his pants and put on his belt, before carefully making his way to the closet and grabbing a shirt and jacket. Afterwards, he made his way straight out the door. Lorken was not the kind of guy you would want to be on the bad side of. After making it out of his room, Karada noticed that Gank was remarkably well groomed. Or, at least he was compared to the recently awoken Karada. As soon as he made it out of the doorway, Karada slowly began to put on the shirt and, after finishing the top button, slid the grey jacket over his body. Immediately afterwards, he buttoned up the jacket. Karada had adopted some tastes from his upper class family - one of which was a penchant for buttoning up his clothes. Just letting the cloth flap around his neck seemed unappealing. After he finished getting dressed, Karada turned towards Lorken, awaiting instructions and hoping that he would be allowed to take a shower.

---

---

After pouring an unholy amount of sugar—or at least that's what he believes it to be—into his cup of coffee, Kaz goes for a sip but, just as the rim reaches his lips, he stops and notices the unusual expression on the bug girl's face. It consists of eyes devoid of life with the addition of a creepy smile which Kaz can only describe as "nefarious". "Hey, what's with that look?" Kaz asks in his patented monotone inflection. He doesn't expect an answer nor would he trust one that comes out of her, and so he elects to ignore her and drink his sweet, sweet coffe- Holy high halls of hell, what ungodly concoction is he drinking?! This is the work of a bio-terrorist. This- This- Her. Kaz looks up at the bug girl. As he sets the poisonous substance down on the table, Kaz's expression is now the same as the one the bug girl had before: a dead, dumb, happy look except one corner of Kaz's mouth is twitching.

Reaching into the grocery bag on the table with both hands, Kaz methodically pulls out what seems to be two more cans of bug spray—only the tops can be seen—in full view of the bug girl. His dual-wielding is about to level up! Fortunately, Kaz's phone alarm goes off, stopping this epic battle from proceeding any further. His face returns to normal as Kaz reaches for his phone to have a look-see. "Oh. It's already time." He says quietly to himself. He places his phone into his left pant pocket and picks up his bag before leaving unannounced. All that remains of his presence at the table is his comic in the goat boy's possession, a couple of snack bars, and salt—lots of it—both physical and metaphorical.

-6:37 PM-

Kaz retires to his dorm room after what has proven to be a rather chaotic day. Dear diary, today Kaz learned the importance of never giving up from his draconian tyrant of a teacher/headmaster. He met some rather swell fellows who steals too much, smokes too much, and dairies too much. And he was poisoned by a bug girl who no one but himself was internally freaking out over. Yeah... Wow, his life sucks. Kaz feels as though he will collapse of exhaustion at any- Oh, right now it looks like.

-6:00 AM-

"RISE AND SHINE, DESPOILERS OF MY HOME. EVERYONE OUT HERE NOW."

A far cry from his encouraging All Might alarm clock statue. The thundering voice of Lorken plays over the repeating school bell and returns Kaz's soul into his body, waking him from his slumber. Kaz slept on the floor all night having collapsed during the previous day. His luggage is still packed, mocking him in the far corner of the humbling room. Kaz's appearance when he first wakes up in the morning is indistinguishable from his appearance throughout the day: barely kept hair, a mixture of apathy and annoyance shown prominently on his face—you'd be hard pressed to find a less impressive guy. It's actually impressive how unimpressive he is, actually.

Knowing Lorken, this devilish alarm system probably won't shut off any time soon so Kaz, as reluctant as he is, gets up off the floor and begins the usual morning routine. He saunters into the restroom to whiz, shower, and brush his teeth. When all is said and done, he removes the new uniform from his belongings and puts it on. Dress shirt, blazer, pants, the works. He can't imagine there is much time for breakfast so he sits down on his bed with a protein bar in one hand and a bottle of water in the other; both arms are raised awkwardly instead of resting beside him. His whole posture screams, "I'm uncomfortable". Finishing up, he heads out toward the designated area.

He soon arrives and sees that both Gankona—he got his name right this time—and Karada are there. Lorken is a given. "Morning." Kaz tells the three of them before lining up beside Karada, remaining silent for the remainder of their time there. Both Kaz and Gank seem to be better groomed this morning than Karada. Kaz took his time since they had until seven but the other two look like they've been standing here for a while. Unlike both students, the buttons on Kaz's blazer is completely unbuttoned: a testament to his rebellious spirit, or his apathy. You choose.

The boy took a sip of his salt and seemed to be devoided of life for a moment too. He looked up at Rikka not seeming all too happy with her so he had decided to take out two more cans of bug spray. How much did he hate her... Rikka ducked, but to no avail. He had suddenly decided to leave, she didn't mind. The other all left after the pizzas were eaten so Rikka did the same without much of a word. Rikka took the choice to venture down to her room.

It was down into the horrible horrible dark. A stairway down beneath the building, she never really thought about sleeping underground but she hated it anyway after seeing the rooms provided. Small rooms with not much more then a bed and a drawer. She couldn't even turn around without hitting anything with her wings. Rikka glared around the room with a disappointed look on her face. Not bug friendly at all.

A while late after unpacking everything and all that she owned she sat down on the bed for a moment to take a quick rest. There was no fridge or anything for the bags of blood provided by the government. She had to put it in the public fridge in the kitchen... That wasn't gonna be weird or anything. Someone probably was gonna think it was tomato juice and just drink it... This was definitly a problem. She had placed some posters of anime she liked on the wall and put some cute plushies on the bed. Her bureau had some pictures of her family, she thought it looked a lot better now, this room. The bug spray was still on her wings so perhaps it was time to take a quick shower or bath.

It was very cramped in the shower. The shower door had to stay open or she couldn't move at all. It didn't feel nice to press her wings against walls or the likes for a longer amount of time. Felt like they would snap at any moment.
It became clear to her that she couldn't shower longer then half an hour before the water went dead cold. This was annoying, she couldn't wash everything thoroughly. Her wings were free of the bug spray again though despites still not being able to fly in this small room.

Rikka went to sleep pretty late after watching stuff on her phone and reading and eventually woke up on her own at around 3am. Sweat was dripping from her head. She was having a nightmare just now. Her clothes were sticking to her body. Opening a window or anything down here was impossible so she went up instead for a moment.

The cold from outside cooled her off at least, hopefully no one saw her out here at this hour in her pyjamas. Well she doubted anyone was up anyways. Quickly she went down into the basement again entering her own room again. Softly she closed down the door and softly sighed. Once she turned around she was a little freaked out by what she saw. It was the goat boy sleeping. She could see his heat with her vision. He seemed warmer then any other human, it was a bit tempting. Or in other words she was already sneaking up to him. Softly she panted letting out hufs of air. She gave a short creepy smile before slurping on her meal. It only took a few minutes before she was out of the room again. She was bright red off course. It was a habit she had that could only be satisfied that way... She hoped he wouldn't notice that it was her...

---

Rikka was soundlessly sleeping on her tummy drowling over her pillow. She was a long sleeper so the alarm at 6am she wouldn't have expected. She fell out of the bed while covering her ears. Too early... It apparently was time to get up? Rikka looked at the clock... Unbelievable... Rikka had to take a moment to orientate herself. It suddenly came to her that she didn't have long enough to do her morning routine so she quickly got up and turned around shoving everything that was in her desk off her desk with her stupid wings. Rikka panicky grabbed everything off the ground one by one making the time she had only shorter. She put both hands on her hurting head and hyperventilate d from all the stress.

After the remaining time passed by Rikka still managed to do most things all wasn't it all perfect... One sock was inside out, the other one was hanging on her ankle. One of her shoes was half on, she completely forgot her tie and one half of her hair was attempted to be tied in a ponytail while the other half was still hanging by her side. She lined up next to Kaz looking the other way from the rest. This wasn't her morning...

@liferusher@Blu@Duoya@GodOfWar

Lorken nodded to Gankona and Karada as they promptly showed they were capable of rising on time, and taking care of personal hygiene, though he continued to refuse speaking back. Or showingnany warmth at all for that matter. His posture was some sort of mesh between educator and tense wildebeest coiled back to pounce.
The crimson orbs of his eyes roamed all the students that made the roll call in a timely manner. The harpoon boy and Yuri were absent.
They wouls receive far worse punishments.

Tardyness was inexcusable.

When the last two finally made their way out and into the lineup Lorkens pouncing stare had turned into a killing scowl at the sight of Rikka. A part of him wanted to tear the mismatched and wrinkled clothing off and make her change into a PROPER uniform.
He very well would have if it was one od the men but Rikka was the sole female left of the group. There weren't any spare clothes for her size.

"Rikka! Fix your attire. The rest of you, listen up."

Lorkens right hook was softer than the day before but much faster, taking Kazuto in the stomach by surprise.

"Thats for my property you broke and tried to hide. Next time it happens and im not told, your punishment will be much more severe." Every word dripped with venom.

"Karada and Gankona. The mess in my fucking kitchen. Nobody bothered to pick up after themselves before retiring, leaving the scene without any effort on your parts to right the wrong. Congratulations on becoming the new house janitors."

Lorken walked over to a nearby supply closet and pulled out a couple of brooms, a mop, and a very old bucket. All of which were tossed more at the pair than at the ground.

"You want to disrespect your roles as heroes thats fine. But I'll be long dead and buried before I let half-idiots like the two of you ruin my sanctuary." More venom. Far more. If he was upset about the picture, it was tripled in that moment.

Dusting off his simple vest, he cleared his throat and began again in a neutral instructors tone.

"Gankona and Karada, you will be cleaning up the broken wood and blood from yesterdays initiation. Don't expect any help or any food until the job is done right. Kazuto, for spraying a classmate with bug spray you are going to assist them. I expect the walls of my gymnasium to sparkle, and the back lawn to be cut. Push mower is in the back shed. As for Rikka," Lorken had a hunch she had fed in the middle of the night. Mosquitoes often did. "You will be dealing with every mirror and window on the property. I expect this all done before the practical combat trainimg this afternoon. Dismissed."

None of these taska were easy. Not in the usual sense. They were boring, tedious, mindless busywork. The fact that Gankona and Karada still had bad injuries meant they would be sluggish and sore. But if they slacked off they would never finish.
Being a hero meant seeing the job done no matter how bad you hurt. It meant endless patrols, alarms, and destruction. Some heroes were pros at rescue or cleanups. They would move cement blocks day and night until every last soul was found.
Did this group possess that kind of motivation. The required drive. Lorken aimed to find out..

---

Karada slowly began to fix his disheveled appearance, slipping on his shirt and jacket, and then finishing with the tie that hung loosely around his neck. He still hadn't showered, but he did so pretty late the day before, so maybe noone would notice. Soon everyone gathered, congregating around the impressive man in front of them... Well, everyone except the blond guy and harpoon boy. Those two seemed to still remain in their rooms, which Karada didn't know would be possible in this extreme sound - they couldn't possibly be that heavy of sleepers, could they? Instead, Karada noticed that, out of the two shorties, Rikkawas far less prepared - her clothes were a mess, she was missing a shoe, and her tie wasn't even on... It honestly looked like she was trying to look like a delinquent, but forgot delinquents had shoes... and weren't that short.

A flash of movement took Karada by surprise as Lorken shot out, slamming his fist into Kaz's stomach. It seemed like he was holding back, but still, the intent and technique were still there. This sudden punch reminded Karada of his own wound - he ignored it when he jumped out of bed this morning, but it was lightly throbbing with pain, alerting him to it's presence. Karada was so preoccupied with this feeling, he barely even noticed Lorken talk about the broken painting, but quickly snapp3ed his attention forwards when he heard his own name.

"Karada and Gankona. The mess in my fucking kitchen. Nobody bothered to pick up after themselves before retiring, leaving the scene without any effort on your parts to right the wrong. Congratulations on becoming the new house janitors."

Karada successfully managed to catch one of the rooms thrown his way, but the bucket soared, hitting him squarely in the injured leg. Karada had a slight intake of breath, but did his best to mask the pain on his face. He couldn't show weakness. Instead, he chose to focus on the house janitor part - why the hell were they the janitors? He understood the punishment part, but wasn't the beard guy supposed to have a job around here? Unless his sole job is driver, which is useless considering every student lives on campus.

"You want to disrespect your roles as heroes that's fine. But I'll be long dead and buried before I let half-idiots like the two of you ruin my sanctuary."

Karada normally would have given a glare for a comment like that, but he instead chose to remain perfectly still, ready to activate his quirk at a moments notice. Nobody calls him a bad hero - nobody. The scene almost would have been tense, had Karada not been practically standing on 1 foot and holding a broom in both hands.

"Gankona and Karada, you will be cleaning up the broken wood and blood from yesterdays initiation. Don't expect any help or any food until the job is done right. Kazuto, for spraying a classmate with bug spray you are going to assist them. I expect the walls of my gymnasium to sparkle, and the back lawn to be cut. Push mower is in the back shed. As for Rikka, you will be dealing with every mirror and window on the property. I expect this all done before the practical combat training this afternoon. Dismissed."

Karada immediately picked up the bucket at his feet, leaving the mop and other brooms for Gank to collect. After collecting them, he started to move, heading for the way upstairs. The second he made it to the gymnasium, he planned on immediatly starting the cleaning process. He sure as hell didn't want to be the guy mowing - he already hadn't showered, so he didn't want to stink very badly... While walking, Karada did wonder - how would the others do? Gank seemed like the type to get bored very quickly, and Kaz was short so he would have difficulties reaching the walls pf the gym, even with a step ladder... But in all seriousness, Karada didn't know enough about Kaz to make a good judgement. Hopefully, he was like Karada, who spent hours every day doing disciplined training alone. Karada knew if he could handle that with relative ease, this would be simple... Well, except for reaching the high walls and cleaning the smell of sweat out of everything... and the blood. He knew that blood stained like a bitch, especially since he took a look at his ruined dress pants.