Fate's Vinculum

Chapter 5.

Sires made the decision right off the bat to keep to himself as much as humanly possible. This initially proved to be problematic; he, like the rest of the student body, was expected to cooperate with his fellow students. Failure to do so resulted in punishments, beatings or additional chores tacked on to the regular rotation of assigned maintenance around The Compound.

There was also the undeniable truth that there were certain subjects he struggled with, making him reliant on his classmate's help. Math was one of his worst subjects, beat out only by English. Many students were expected to take up at least two additional languages; Sires stubbornly stuck with English only, and even with extra studying struggled to master the language. Just thinking about adding an additional language made his head hurt.

Where he lacked academically, he more than made up for through physical education. Sires quickly rose to the top of every fighting class, easily mastering the moves. His peers, try as he might to keep to himself, began to lash out at him; a bump in the hallway here, a shove.

One day (for no apparent reason to Sires) it grew into outright bullying. That evening on his way to dinner, a group of students cornered him and beat him bloody. They only stopped when X himself appeared, seemingly out of thin air.

As Sires was led to X's office, he almost wished he was still being beaten. There was no two ways about it; Sires was genuinely deeply disturbed by the mere presence of this man. He always seemed to be there, just hovering about.

"Am I in trouble?" Sires asked as he sank into a seat, holding a rib he was nearly positive was broken.

"English, please," X corrected, sitting down at his desk and removing a first aid kit from a drawer.

If he hadn't been in so much pain Sires would have sighed in frustration. Instead, he repeated the question as best he could in English.

"No," X replied.

He sat on the edge of his desk, gently moving Sires' hair out of the way and tending to a nasty cut on his forehead. Sires went rigid, his already ragged breath coming out as a terrified wheeze. X had brushed his fingers against Sires' skin; the unwelcome realization that he had done it on purpose made him queasy.

"I could-I could go to...nurse room," Sires offered, not wanting X to touch him.

X paused, and then a faint smile fluttered across his lips. "No, it's fine." Another pause, and then he continued speaking, gingerly tending to Sires' wounds.

"You know, it was only a matter of time before this happened." He repeated himself in Icelandic to make sure he was understood.

"Why?"

"You've proven you're the best we have here, after only a year. Of course they're going to hate you."

X lifted up Sires' shirt to look at his side. Without thinking, Sires slapped his hand away. X glared; Sires went rigid and swallowed thickly, a deer in headlights. X lifted his shirt back up, revealing a nasty bruise. He touched it, and Sires yelped.

"It's broken...not much we can do about that. After we talk you should go to the infirmary. I just wanted to get you cleaned up a bit."

"Why?"

"Why what? Why do you need to go to the infirmary?"

Sires shook his head. "Why does...Do? People not like me?"

"Yvonne-the girl you beat at bo yesterday-is the third generation of her family here. Her father is the weapons master here. You humiliated her-you disgraced her family."

Sires' eyes widened in horror. "I didn't mean to."

X reached out and moved Sires' long black hair behind his ear. When X's fingertips brushed against his skin again it made his stomach churn. After staring at Sires fondly for a moment, X put away the medical supplies and sat back behind his desk.