The morning sun peeked through my curtains, painting my room in soft, golden light. I stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the collar of my crisp, new uniform. My reflection stared back at me—neatly styled hair, spotless shoes, and a bag packed to the brim. I looked every bit the perfect high school student.
But let's be real. Appearances can be deceiving.
I wasn't just any student. I was the girl who fought. The girl who sent bullies running with a single glare, the girl who could take down anyone twice her size with a well-placed punch. Violence had been my language for as long as I could remember, and it was my dad who had taught me how to speak it.
At five years old, he'd shown me how to make a fist. "Never let anyone push you around," he'd said, his voice firm but kind. "You're stronger than you think."
And I was.
But now, standing on the brink of a new chapter in my life, I'd made a promise—to myself, to my mom, to the future I was trying to build. No more fights. No more violence. Just a normal high school experience.
Easier said than done.
Knock knock.
The sound of my bedroom door opening pulled me from my thoughts. I turned to see my mom standing in the doorway, her long hair streaked with gray and a soft smile on her lips.
"You done getting dressed, Collin? Hurry up and eat breakfast," she said, her voice warm but tinged with exhaustion.
"Yeah," I replied, glancing back at the mirror. I lifted my hair, letting it fall down my back in a cascade of dark waves. My mom watched me, a proud smile spreading across her face.
"My daughter's beautiful. Even more than me," she said, her voice filled with affection.
My cheeks burned. "Mom, stop," I mumbled, though a small smile tugged at my lips.
She chuckled softly before her expression turned serious. "Focus on your studies, okay? And don't forget your promise."
The word hung in the air like a weight. I nodded, my resolve hardening. "Don't worry, Mom. I will."
With that, she left the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
I grabbed my bag and rushed downstairs, my shoes clattering against the wooden steps. The loud thud of my footsteps made my mom yell, "Collin!" but I just grinned and slowed down.
In the dining room, my little brother Zane was slumped over his cereal, his face a mask of misery.
"Hey, it's your first day of middle school. Cheer up!" I said, trying to lighten the mood.
Zane didn't respond. He just shoveled cereal into his mouth and left without a word, his backpack slung over one shoulder.
I frowned, but my mom sighed. "He's just growing up. You were like that too, remember?"
"Yeah, I guess," I muttered, though I couldn't help but feel a little hurt. My eyes drifted to the empty chair at the head of the table—Dad's chair. He wasn't home. He hadn't been for a long time.
"When's Dad coming back?" I asked quietly, my voice barely above a whisper.
My mom's expression softened. "When his work's done," she replied, though her tone suggested she didn't know when that would be.
I wanted to press her for a real answer, but I knew it was pointless. Instead, I finished my breakfast and grabbed my bag.
No time to dwell on it—I didn't want to be late on my first day of high school.
The walk to Nexus High School was refreshing. The air was crisp, and the sun was shining, casting a golden glow over the quiet streets. I'd promised to walk, even though I hated it. It was part of my new life—my normal life.
The school was impressive—not too big, but modern and well-equipped. Students of all kinds filled the courtyard, each with their own unique style. I spotted a guy with bright red hair surrounded by a group of girls. Must be a popular senior, I thought.
Nexus High was special because it offered a variety of majors, letting students focus on their interests. My major? Fashion.
As I walked to class, someone bumped into me from behind. "Tsk," one of the girls muttered as they passed.
I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms as I forced myself to take a deep breath. The urge to swing at the girl was still simmering under my skin. "It's just a coat," I told myself, even though it wasn't. It was a gift from my dad, a piece of him I carried with me every day.
But violence wasn't the answer anymore. At least, that's what I kept telling myself.
The fashion classroom was pristine—no graffiti, no mess. The students were stylish, each adding their own flair to the uniform. But as I took my seat, I couldn't shake the feeling of being out of place.
Then I heard the whispers.
"Look at her. Majoring in fashion but wearing that ugly coat."
My jaw tightened. This coat was a gift from Dad, I thought, biting back my anger.
A group of senior boys peeked through the window, whispering about the new students. I ignored them, but my attention snapped back when I heard my name.
"It's Collin! I'm sure it's her!"
I turned to see a familiar face—a guy I used to bully in middle school. He looked terrified.
The fuck!? What's he doing here?!
My heart raced as I forced myself to look away. This was my chance to prove I could change. But deep down, I knew it wouldn't be easy.
It was clear as day—he was shaking like a leaf, his lips slightly parted, frozen in place. His eyes were locked on me, wide with fear, as if he'd just seen a ghost.
This is impossible... this is impossible!
That had to be what was running through his head. I could almost hear his thoughts screaming at him to run. And run he did. He bolted, bumping into several students who got in his way, his panic palpable. The unexpected encounter made my heart race, memories flooding my mind like a tidal wave. But I quickly shoved them down, locking them away.
Focus, Collin. Focus on the here and now.
I was in fashion class, of all places. The whispers about my appearance still buzzed around me like annoying flies, but I chose to tune them out. This was my fresh start, my chance to turn over a new leaf.
But let's be real—this wasn't where I belonged. My heart was screaming for the fighter class, for the adrenaline, the sweat, the thrill of a good fight. But that would mean breaking the promise I'd made.
I slumped back in my chair, my body going limp like a ragdoll. "...I want to punch a punching bag," I muttered under my breath, over and over, like a broken record.
And then it happened.
A wad of paper hit me square in the forehead. It wasn't an accident—it was a direct shot, meant to provoke.
"Hey, if you look that disgusting, don't go to fashion class!"
It was her. The same girl who'd been bad-mouthing my coat since I walked in.
"Oh, don't be too rough with her, she'll cry~" her friends chimed in, their laughter dripping with mockery as they looked down at me like I was dirt on their shoes.
What a bunch of bitches.
I felt my blood boil, my fingers twitching with the urge to gouge out her eyes and rip her mouth apart. But I held back, biting my tongue so hard I could taste copper.
The girl with the ponytail stopped laughing, her glare sharp enough to cut glass. "The fuck? You dare look at us like that? Lower your gaze!"
Lower my gaze? For you? Not a chance.
I kept staring, my eyes locked on hers, unflinching. Her annoyance turned to rage, and she started marching toward me, her heels clicking like a countdown to disaster.
"I said lower your gaze! You don't know who I am, huh?!" she barked, her voice loud enough to turn heads.
I blinked slowly, feigning indifference. "...then, who are you?"
The question hit her like a slap. Her jaw tightened, the corners of her mouth twitching as she raised her hand, ready to strike.
I saw it coming a mile away. Her movements were slow, clumsy—amateur hour. I was already calculating the perfect moment to dodge when, out of nowhere, someone's hand shot out and stopped her mid-swing.
"Please don't fight."
The voice was calm, almost pleading. Both of us turned to see who it was.
Whoa.
Handsome didn't even begin to cover it. He had the kind of face that belonged on a magazine cover, paired with a tall, muscular frame that screamed "fighter class." But his demeanor? Total softie.
He smiled, his hands raised in a gesture of peace. "Don't fight, okay..."
Before he could finish, the classroom door slammed open with a deafening crash.
"Danieeeell!!"
A guy burst in, throwing his arms around the handsome stranger's neck in a chokehold. "You! You're looking for attention again, aren't you!"
The guy—Daniel, apparently—struggled to breathe, tapping his attacker's arm frantically. "N, no! I'm just helping! Let me go!"
After five quick taps, the guy finally released him, and Daniel gasped for air.
I glanced between the two of them, trying to piece together their dynamic. So, the handsome guy's name was Daniel, and this loudmouth was his friend?
His friend—Jax, I'd soon learn—was a whole different story. He was rude, brash, and had a face that made me want to punch him on principle.
"What the fuck you looking at? Want me to beat you up?!" he snarled, leaning into my space with his hands stuffed in his pockets.
Before I could react, Daniel yanked him back by the collar of his jacket. "Jax! Don't do that to junior!"
So they're seniors? Second year? Third?
Jax stumbled back, grumbling under his breath as Daniel turned to me with an apologetic smile. "F, forgive him, please? He's just like that."
"her's gaze is annoying. Look! It's like she's inviting me to fight!" Jax shot back, earning another punch from Daniel.
"F, forgive him again, please..."
I couldn't help it—the corners of my lips twitched upward. "It's okay."
Daniel's smile brightened, and he extended his hand. "My name is Daniel, from the second-year fashion class."
I hesitated for a moment before shaking his hand. "I'm Collin."
The room erupted into chaos.
"LOOK! LOOK!"
My ears nearly burst from the shrill screams.
"That junior touched Daniel's hand! I'm jealous!!"
"I'm so jealous, she can touch a model..."
Wait, what?
I yanked my hand back like I'd been burned. Daniel looked at me, confused.
"...what's wrong, Collin?"
I stared at him, my mind racing. A model Then it hit me—his face. I'd seen it before. He was from the YX Department, one of the most prestigious modeling agencies in the world.
Before I could process that, Jack stepped between us, his glare cutting through the noise. "Oi! Send everyone to the hall."
Daniel nodded, his calm demeanor returning as he ushered the class out. I followed at the back, my mind still reeling.
The hall was massive, more like a theater than a school auditorium. Students from every class filled the seats—music, beauty, architecture, theater, dancer, and of course, the fighter class.
My eyes drifted upward to the VIP section, where the fighter class sat. The atmosphere around them was heavy, intimidating, like a storm waiting to break.
And then I saw him.
Blue eyes, sharp and piercing, locked onto mine. The intensity of his gaze sent a shiver down my spine.
The girl next to me nudged my arm, snapping me out of my trance. "Don't you dare stare like that if you don't want to get into trouble!"
She was tiny, with dark red hair that screamed "beauty class."
"So what?" I asked, my curiosity piqued.
She leaned in, her voice dropping to a whisper. "The fighter class is scary. One look at them, and you could get beat up."
I smirked, glancing back up at the blue-eyed fighter. He was still watching me, his expression unreadable.
Bring it on.
The moment the loudspeaker crackled to life, the tension in the air was so thick you could cut it with a knife. My eyes locked with the stranger's for what felt like an eternity, a silent standoff that only broke when the voice from the loudspeaker shattered the stillness.
My gaze shifted to the stage, where a student in a crisp blue vest—emblazoned with the Nexus school emblem—stood like a beacon of authority. The Student Council. Of course. They always had a way of making their presence known, like peacocks flaunting their feathers.
I leaned back, my arms crossed tightly under my chest, a defensive posture that had become second nature. The student council president's voice boomed through the hall, confident and commanding, like a general addressing his troops.
Great, I thought, my lips curling into a faint smirk. He's got the whole "leader of the pack" act down pat. It was no surprise, really. Nexus High wasn't just any school—it was the crown jewel, the cream of the crop. And here I was, a small fish in a very big pond.
The hall doors slammed shut with a finality that made my shoulders tense. Another Student Council member—a girl with sharp eyes and an even sharper demeanor—gave a thumbs-up, signaling that everyone had arrived. No turning back now, I mused, my fingers drumming lightly against my arm. The president cleared his throat, his voice smooth as silk as he introduced himself. I half-listened, my mind already wandering, until he handed the mic over to the principal.
The principal was a middle-aged man who looked like he'd stepped out of a corporate boardroom. His suit was immaculate, his posture straight as an arrow, and his voice carried the weight of someone who'd seen it all. "Good morning, everyone," he began, his tone warm but firm. "Especially the new students who have been successfully accepted into Nexus High School. The Nexus High family welcomes you and congratulates you on joining us."
I stifled a yawn, my eyes scanning the room. The speech droned on, each word blending into the next like white noise. Beside me, the redhead—who had been a constant source of irritation since we'd sat down—nudged my arm with her elbow. Again. For the love of— I bit back a sigh, turning to glare at her.
"This is boring, right?" she said, her voice dripping with mischief as she let out an exaggerated yawn. No kidding, I thought, but I kept my mouth shut, refusing to give her the satisfaction of a response. Instead, I focused on the principal's words, though they were about as exciting as watching paint dry.
But the redhead wasn't done. "What's your reason for entering Nexus?" she asked suddenly, her eyes gleaming with curiosity. Should I even bother answering? I wondered, my lips pressing into a thin line. The truth was, I'd come to Nexus out of sheer curiosity. A school with so many majors, and affordable fees to boot? It was like finding a diamond in the rough. But I wasn't about to spill my guts to some random girl I'd just met.
I turned to her, my expression carefully neutral. "...Because Nexus is my dream school," I said, the words tasting like ash on my tongue. It wasn't a lie, exactly, but it wasn't the whole truth either. Her face fell, disappointment flashing across her features like a storm cloud passing over the sun.
"Ah, I thought it was something extraordinary," she muttered, her tone laced with disappointment. "Try asking me why too."
I raised an eyebrow, but I played along. "...What's your reason for entering Nexus?" I asked, my voice flat.
Her grin returned, wider and more mischievous than before. "My reason is because I want to be the strongest in this school and be able to jump straight into the ring!" she declared, her enthusiasm burning brighter than a wildfire. Jump into the ring? My eyes narrowed. Wait, is she...?
"Are you Fighter Class?" I asked, my voice tinged with disbelief. She nodded eagerly, her grin stretching from ear to ear. Well, color me surprised. I'd pegged her for Beauty Class—someone who spent more time in front of a mirror than in a training ring. But looks could be deceiving, I supposed.
"Oh, I thought you were in Beauty Class—" I started, but she cut me off, her eyes narrowing into slits.
"Are you looking down on me because I'm small?!" she snapped, her voice rising as she tilted her face up to glare at me. Whoa, touchy much? I leaned back, putting some distance between us. Her temper was like a lit fuse, and I wasn't about to get caught in the explosion.
"No, I'm not looking down on you," I said quickly, holding up my hands in a placating gesture. "But, why are you sitting here? Shouldn't it be up there?" I gestured to the VIP section, where the older students sat like royalty.
"The VIP spot is for the second and third years," she explained, her tone still sharp. "If it's above that, it's for S-rank—"
CRASH.
The sound was deafening, like a thunderclap in the middle of a quiet night. My head snapped toward the source of the noise, my heart pounding in my chest. Everyone in the hall turned as one, the principal's speech cut off mid-sentence. What the hell was that?
I squinted through the cloud of dust that had erupted from the impact. Something—or someone—had fallen from above. The floor was cracked, the tiles shattered like glass. My stomach churned as I realized what—or who—it was.
"L-look above!" someone shouted, their voice trembling with fear. My eyes shot upward, and my breath caught in my throat. There, on the upper level, a student stood with another student in his grasp. His knuckles were bloody, his grip like iron. Oh no. The pieces clicked into place. The person who had fallen... it was him. The one now dangling limply in the arms of two burly Student Council members.
"Take him to the infirmary! Quick!" someone barked, their voice cutting through the chaos. The injured student was a mess—his face was a mask of blood, his body limp and lifeless as they carried him away. This is insane, I thought, my mind racing. What kind of school is this?
The student council president stepped forward, his voice steady but urgent. "Please calm down, everyone. Because of this incident, I will end the speech. Please go to your respective classes, and thank you."
The room erupted into murmurs as the Student Council ushered us out. My eyes lingered on the spot where the student had fallen, my stomach churning. His nose was broken, his jaw likely shattered. It was a brutal reminder that Vale High wasn't just a school—it was a battlefield. And I had a sinking feeling that this was just the tip of the iceberg.
As I walked out of the hall, my mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. Who did this? And why? The questions burned in my mind like a fire I couldn't put out. But one thing was clear: Nexus High was no ordinary school. And if I wanted to survive here, I'd need to keep my wits about me—and my guard up.