"Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!" the crowd of middle schoolers chanted as they greedily watched the scene that was taking place within their circle.

Law wiped the blood of his chin with the back of his left hand, smearing it across his face and further bloodying his knuckles. He pulled back his right arm halfway through the motion and stepped forwards, smashing his fist against the kid opposite him's face. The boy's nose gave away with a satisfying crunch. The crowd roared with near bloodlust, but Law wasn't doing it for them.

"Alright! That's enough!" a booming voice interrupted them, much of the crowd immediately scattering at the sound, others lingering to see what might happen. Law eyed the boy across from him as the boy clutched at his face, blood pouring down his chin in a steady stream. Law shook his hand, blood splattering to the floor. The guy deserved the loss of every single drop.

A rough hand grabbed at the collar of Law's sweater and yanked him back as if Law were the threat here. Law couldn't blame them, though. The teachers had probably only seen Law doing the punching, but the boy being helped to his feet by another teacher was, by far, the real problem.

"Trafalgar! I expected better of you." The teacher scolded, sounding honestly disappointed in him. Law would have felt guilty, but he was still roiling with anger.

"He deserved it!" Law snapped.

"You broke his nose! It doesn't matter if he deserved it or not." The teacher replied "You're coming with me to have a word with the principal."

"He made fun of me." Law argued weakly, shaking himself out of the teacher's grasp but obediently following. He tried not to look at the pale white splotch that had appeared on his left hand just a few days ago and tugged the sleeve of his sweater down to cover it. It was just another spot to add to his growing collection. "They all do…" he added quietly under his breath, a flash of all of the eyes drilling holes into his face as he walked into the classroom for his first day of seventh grade. All of those unfamiliar faces almost three years older than him were all taking him in, judging him, seeing spots and not seeing him. It aggravated him. Infuriated him. And when they'd decided that he'd be an easy target, sitting alone and keeping to himself and his books, and began to pick on him… he'd fought back – violently.

He felt guilty then, for just a moment, thinking about what his mother and father might have to say about Law resorting to blows, what Lami might think if she knew he'd hurt someone else. But, he'd come to his wits end today. He was able to grit his teeth and bare it the first few times, but today he'd had enough of being treated like he was a stain. He wasn't about to roll over and take it anymore; he'd rather go down swinging.

In the end, the fight landed them both in after school detention, and it wouldn't be the last time. It seemed that all of the kids just kept coming back for more. They all wanted to try their hand at beating Law to a bloody pulp. More often than not, however, they were the ones lying beaten on the tile floors.

Law's more than perfect grades and now permanently tarnished record baffled the teachers who'd never dealt with a student three years too young to be in seventh grade and who boasted an A+ average, but still got into fights seemingly every other day. But, they'd only have to deal with this troublesome child for three months because one day, after another evening of detention, he'd go home and never come back. The news of an apartment complex fire that had killed twelve while he was in school being the last time the surname Trafalgar was ever spoken again.