Alan Watts, a 17 year old boy who's had limited interaction with girls, women, anyone of the opposite gender, was shaking in both excitement and trepidation as he walked through the halls of his new school.
"Alan Watts, full human, age 17, with a specialty in melee combat," the woman, principal? Stated, her heels made click and clack sounds as they hit the floor made of special metal, her whole bearing sharp and commanding like an Alpha's despite also being fully human. Her tone of voice sounded contemplative even though he couldn't completely discern if it truly is so, since her tone was flat and emotionless with no fluctuations to indicate any emotion at all.
"Not many specialize in melee combat these days. Singers can weaken the Vicious' forces, enough that laser beams could cut through them like hot knife on butter. Most would definitely choose to attack from a range since, while taxing, would be easier and safer for them. The Vicious are known for their savagery and and strength, after all. Some could even rip flesh from a certain distance away, so melee combat isn't recommended these days. I wonder why the Marshall recommended you at all."
Alan gulped nervously. He didn't have any experience in dealing with women, so he didn't know how to answer to her words. Should he stay quiet? Should he divulge some information? The reasons why his parents would specifically train him for melee than just go with a generalized military training?
He didn't know what to do!
"I wouldn't be surprised if you have hidden abilities; the Marshall does have a special eye for talent after all," she chuckles, her eyes glinted strangely as she looked towards Alan with a discerning gaze, making him see how her eyes had been installed with special technology that he didn't understand too much despite being informed about them prior to his departure earlier that month. "Your stats aren't too impressive, though that could be rectified with... some training."
'Wait, what's with that pause?' Alan's back stiffen at her words. For some reason, he could feel a chill run down his spine.
All his life, he'd never had any interaction with girl, women, below the age of 40, with the exception of his baby sister, of course. This principal, who he'd heard is currently (allegedly) at the age of 25 is the first person so close to his age, who is of the opposite gender.
His eyes couldn't help but stray to the bountiful chest that bounces slightly as they walked, his short height making his vision align with them, making him flustered and he did not know where to look.
The woman stops, her chest giving a final bounce, before she took a deep breath and opened the door to the principal's office.
From where he could peek in, the principal's office was sparsely decorated in blues and browns, with a ceiling to floor window behind the principal's desk and a bookshelf right beside it. He could also see a few potted plants that he's sure were live plants instead of plastic, a table between two sofas, and-- was that a mini holographic map of the milky way?
Inside the room, a man stood. He had an even more domineering aura that the principal, even if he's just standing in a standard military 'rest' pose. 'No way...' Alan's eyes widened as a thought went through his head. 'That couldn't be...?'
"Marshall," the woman saluted.
Alan's stiff back became even more rigid, sweat covered his back and he's pretty sure that his outer jacket has been soaked through from the nervousness he felt because of that one word.
"Report," came a gravelly voice from within the room.
'The Marshall himself is really here???' His stomach churned, and he had to take deep breaths to keep his nausea down. 'This is one of the most nerve-racking moments of my life,' he thought with a sigh.
"Alan Watts has passed the test to enter the specialist class; he shows talent in melee combat and has enough stamina to go through fifteen rounds before passing out."
Her words made him even more nauseous, '15 rounds weren't enough were they???' He couldn't help but despair that his chance of being in a co-ed school would be dashed with his incompetence. He wanted to get to know more about girls, but now he's not even qualified to be admitted?
He needs a table to flip. Or have a drink or two. Of his favourite hot chocolate drink of course, he's not someone who'd drink while underage, really.
"Good work," the Marshall nodded. "Bring him in."
"Yes, Marshall."
The woman stepped aside, and Alan, who'd been beside himself with worry, tripped on nothing as he stepped inside.
Face-planting himself at the first meeting... Alan felt like he's gonna cry from embarrassment.
Quickly getting up and dusting himself off, he saluted to the even more domineering figure in the room, "Marshall!"
He... hasn't embarrassed himself to an unsalvageable degree, right? He could still enter the Academy if he made a good impression and show that he's not embarrassed by what had happened to the Marshall, right?! He's the one who'd invited him in the first place, he shouldn't want him out of school before he even started... right???