This is a little bit of a long one, but I'm wrapping up this part of Rai's day. Just a head's up: two OC's in this one.

...

The rest of my morning was uneventful. Mathematics, science, and a whole spectrum of subjects I found to be dreadfully dull and uninteresting made me so bored that I couldn't even come up with a suitable quip to lift up my spirits. The only plus side is that our last class ended early, so I had a little free time before lunch.

Waiting til I was alone, I threw my arms up in the air and said, "That's it. I figured it all out. I must've done something so horrendous in my past life that I now have to suffer immeasurably by having the most unenthused, lackluster, passionless professors who've perfected the art of numbing minds just to the point before I seriously consider a lobotomy as the only means to survive the rest of the school year."

Perhaps I was overreacting, but then again can you really blame me? This morning, I started off as just some random, backstory-less guy who was only known by a small handful of friendly people, and then as my day went on, I became the number one contender for our yearbook's "Most likely to be offed in a dark alley somewhere" section .

Needing a break from the ever watchful eyes of gossipers and groupies alike, I ambled away toward the men's room with about the same level of subtlety and inconspicuousness as a blind, out of shape, retired ninja.

"I guess I can cross off special ops military assassin from my list of potential identities," I mused.

In a vain attempt to redeem myself from my less than spectacular skills in covertness, I decided to scan the area. From a distance, I poked my head low enough to see if the stalls were empty and did a rapid 360° turn to ensure I was alone.

I sighed in relief upon seeing that the coast was clear, and I headed toward the sink to rinse my face.

I was enjoying the first bit of solitude I had since I left the clubhouse this morning when suddenly, a deep, raspy voice rumbled several paces behind me.

"Are you supposed to be the new guy?"

That was almost 30 seconds. Thirty seconds of me enjoying myself. That's quite the record.

I slowly turned around and- holy lab experiments gone horribly wrong!

Heading my way was a 6'4, square-faced, thick-jawed, skin-headed cross between a gorilla and Frankenstein's monster - yes, I knew what that was. I just learned all about it in my previous class. And okay, maybe he wasn't totally skin-headed; he did have long, greasy auburn hair on the back of his head hanging down to just below his shoulders, but I was close enough.

"You must be the new guy everyone's been talking about."

"Must be," I mumbled with an unenthused 'let's get this over with' tone. Didn't he just say that?

Not wasting any time getting to the point, the great ape gritted through his teeth, "And I also hear you're supposed to be getting Kallen's help to make you remember things about yourself."

"...Yeah. That's right." Great. Another fanboy.

"Well don't get used to it! As it just so happens she and I are together," the gorilla said in a raised voice while proudly pointing at himself.

"Pretty sure she's single, dude."

"Nu uh! I was gonna make my move soon! But now that you're here, you've gotten in my way. How do we know you've really lost your memories anyway? You must be using that as an excuse to have her all for yourself!"

Has this incarnation of all pharmaceuticals known to man never been instructed in the art of basic social etiquette? Hoping to deescalate the situation, I started, "Hi. My name's Rai. And you are?"

"Don't get cute. The name's Arnaud! And don't change the subject!" exclaimed the reject from the local circus as he grabbed the collar of my shirt.

Unfazed for some reason, I said, "Listen, Argyle, buddy-"

"It's Arnaud!"

"Right, right. That's what I said. So Arius, as much as I want to go toe-to-toe with you in a life or death jousting competition, I hate to remind you of the fact that we're students, and we'd likely get suspended or worse for throwing down the metaphorical gauntlet while in the middle of the school day."

Seems like I'm apparently a bit of a shit talker. Trying not to lose my nerve, I remained in frame while waiting for a worthy retort.

"Uh... I didn't get a word of that." He squinted.

He's an idiot. Big surprise.

"Let me try this again. Me - student. You - student. Us - on campus. No fight. Bad for both. Understand?"

"Oh, so now you think I'm stupid do ya?"

Well that worked about as well as a bandage does for a cough.

"Listen, I think you're acting out a little unnecessarily. Just take a few breaths and forget about it all right? She and I are barely even acquaintances. No need to lose your hair over it. Not that there's much left to lose anyway."

Okay, I didn't say that last part, but I almost did.

He clenched his fist, seemingly contemplating whether or not to strike me, but was interrupted when the lunch bell rang, and with that, he let me go, gave me a shove and said, "Ah, you're not worth my time anyway, punk" as he left the restroom.

After a few moments of silent deliberation, wondering what the hell had just happened, I came up with nothing.

"Maybe I'm just cursed?" I pondered.

It was either that, or I'm the main character in a story written by a random guy in the middle of nowhere, who really gets off on having me be the butt of everyone's jokes. But what are the odds of that being the case?

Taking a few moments to compose myself, realizing that I probably won't have the benefits of real-life plot armor on my side at some point, I headed off to the cafeteria.

...

Lunch came and went without much of a fuss. I mean, how could it not? I basically just packed up my tray and headed up toward the roof. It was the only way to escape the derision of the apparently larger-than-I-first-realized group of Kallen's adorer's. I'm not really planning on any confrontation, but seeing as I'm on a first name basis with Arnaud the Caveman, I'm expecting inevitable conflict.

It's strange though. I'm not really afraid. I just don't want anything to do with it, you know? I mean, it's not like anything's happening between me and Kallen anyway - yet.

I shook my head vigorously. "Get a hold of yourself. I mean, what are the chances that the apparent crown jewel of Ashford Academy's females would even consider going out with a guy like me?"

But then again, she *is* going out with me in a sense, but not by choice... "Ok, enough," I cut myself off.

Unable to divert my thoughts elsewhere, I continued.

"But how would a theoretical date between the two of us go anyway?" I pondered while stroking my chin.

"So Rai what are your hobbies?"

"Oh you know, asking for directions, making enemies faster than insurgents against the empire. That sort of thing."

And with that new round of discouragement served up with an extra side of 'I don't have a snowball's chance in hell of making this happen,' I let the topic be.

"...So how about this cafeteria food?" I posed to my nonexistent lunch buddy.

Great. Now I'm verbalizing my inner monologues. Perhaps I'm just crazy.

Having nothing else to do, I wolfed down a meal undeserving of the act of so violent a consumption. I mean, it wasn't "bad" per se, but it definitely wasn't like... Like what, exactly?

My eyes widened and I tried my damnedest to finish that sentence. "Dammit. The answer's on the tip of my tongue!"

This could be useful though. Clearly I have some sort of preference. My memories may be gone, but it seems like my body recalls my tastes better than my mind. Maybe I need to rely on my other senses to help me remember things? But then again, how exactly would that go? Parade around town and sniff the air like a K9 on a drug bust? Yeah, that'll definitely help me integrate faster...

I spent a few more minutes deep in thought, straining to remember the type of food I was trying to compare my lunch to, but to no avail. Afterward I looked out to the horizon to clear my mind until the bell rang.

...

"We are so screwed."

"Huh?" I muttered, hoping I misheard.

"Dude, I said we are so screwed. Like, massively screwed!"

Was all this panic really all that necessary? It couldn't have been that bad.

"How so?" I questioned somewhat curiously.

"It's our gym teacher, or I should say, the guy who's gonna be our substitute gym teacher today!"

"You sure you're not just overreacting?"

Rivalz clenched his fists dramatically, "This is no laughing matter. Coach Finley was a failed Britannian military applicant, who *loves* torturing students until he breaks all but the few he deems worthy to enter into the military in his stead."

Somehow I was skeptical of my melodramatic friend, but I hesitantly took his word for it.

And boy was he right. Coach Finley, otherwise known as "Yes, sir!" was anything but amicable. If the term "hardass" was in the dictionary, you'd find a photo of him there as a reference picture.

Between making us take numerous laps around the gym, hop through a series of tires, and do pushups until our arms fell off, I can agree Rivalz wasn't kidding. Although for some reason, none of that gassed me out. You might wonder why I'm not complaining? Oh don't worry - I am. Finley had such an apparent disdain for me - or was it admiration of my endurance? - that he decided to make me do extra of everything. With weights strapped to me for good measure.

Catching my breath and regrouping near Rivalz, I asked, "There's no chance I can just drop out and transfer to another school, right?"

"But aren't you a provisional student? So technically you couldn't really drop out..."

I cut in, "Which means technically, I don't have to be here right now, and technically I can just go my merry way while you get to spend some quality time in the clutches of our resident tyrant."

Rivalz chuckled, "Hey come on now. We're all in this together. There's plenty of 'love' to go around."

If by "love" Rivalz meant the art of grappling with a group of natural athletes - most of whom were already on some sort of sports team to begin with, then yes - I could feel the love tonight...

Instead of showing us basic moves so that those of us who weren't privy to any fighting knowledge could actually end up not making fools of ourselves, Finley had us engage in a grappling gauntlet. He called on two students at first - two males, I might add, given that for some reason it was a total boy's club in here - to spar, and the loser would return to his space, while a new challenger would step in. This would continue until the defendant lost and was replaced by the victor, and on and on it would go until the last man was standing.

Seems like a somewhat practical way to vet the weakest of our ranks, but personally, I think the guy just gets off from watching his least favorite students get pummelled. He didn't seriously think any one of us would enlist just because he was an obsessive patriot, did he?

"Private Rivalz, you're up!" the coach demanded.

"Welp, here goes nothing... literally."

"Just do your best out there, man." I encouraged.

But sure enough, Rivalz was outclassed in every way, and the match ended quickly. Unfortunately for him, his opponent roughhoused him a bit too much and he ended up having to be sent away to the nurse's office.

Finley bellowed, "Pathetic! Is there anyone here who can fight?!"

After a few moments of observing the room, he yelled, "Silver! You're next!"

Everyone's heads turned, looking at each other with a questioning expression to see who our coach was referring to... until all all eyes eventually made their way toward me.

"Silver, did I stutter or are you just deaf?!"

"Referring to other people by their hair color is my schtick. Talk about unoriginal," I thought with mild annoyance.

I hesitantly got up, making my way toward the mat, scanning my audience with my eyes darting side-to-side as I maintained a front-facing posture. From what I could see, there were a bunch of smirks, glares, and knuckle cracks.

"Are these some of the same guys from this morning? They kind of look familiar." I wondered.

"You're him, aren't you?" asked my adversary.

"No, you must have me confused with another guy." I evaded, knowing where this was going.

"No, you're definitely him. The guy who's in the in-club with Kallen."

Talking was useless. This guy was just the next in the line of endless droves of male students who had it in for me due to my proximity to Kallen. I may not know how to fight, but if I can land a good hit or something and play it off as an accident, I'll consider it a win.

Cheers from the crowd roared - none of which were for me. These guys all had a look in their eyes not unlike that of hungry scavengers waiting for the kill.

"Shouldn't you guys all cheer against each other, I mean, you're all technically enemies too?"

My opponent smacked the air with his hand dramatically, "But if we can take you down a few notches, then you'll just be like one of us and the rest of us will have a fair chance!"

I shook my head disdainfully, "Let's just get this over with..."

"Fighting positions!" yelled our coach. "Aannd, begin!"

My opponent wasted no time. He was in this for an easy win, and so he charged me from the gate, thinking he could overpower me effortlessly. And for some reason, somehow, some way - I reacted appropriately. I grabbed him, swung him around me and slammed him into the ground.

Apparently I wasn't finished; I grabbed his arm, pulling his bent elbow toward my chest and stepped my left leg over his head, preventing him from sitting up.

The cheers died down, and confused looks painted the faces of everyone in the room - especially me.

"Ho-ly shit I'm a badass." I mentally gawked

After getting distracted from my apparent latent abilities, my sparring partner started to take advantage of my loosening grip, but I readjusted, lying back, forcing him into a straight arm lock.

Faced with increasing pressure in the elbow joint, he had no choice but to tap out. "Grrr. I yield! I yield!"

And with that, I became the defendant.

So many thoughts were rushing through my head all at once that I didn't even realize that my next opponent was called on the mat and was just inches away from me, ready to take me down.

It's difficult to explain, perhaps because of the adrenaline rush I could feel, coupled with my elevating heart rate, but it's almost as if everything almost stood still, like it was all moving in slow motion - the chants, the sneers, and even my fellow combatant's movements. He reached out and just about grabbed me by my right shoulder with his left hand, and I grabbed his opposing shoulder and sleeve in return, took a side step and bumped his hip, throwing him off his balance. I then proceeded to take another back step and threw him forward.

And down he went, tapping out faster than the previous groupie.

There wasn't time for any reflection because I was met with more and more opponents, all of whom I pinned, submitted, arm locked, and straight up bodied with little-to-no effort.

Our coach was drooling, oozing with excitement as each new student got slammed down by me.

The numbers thinned until there was only one other man left standing. There he was: the people's champion - Arnaud the Giant - in all his grotesque, veiny, abominable snowman-esque splendor.

Hopping in place on the balls of my feet and shaking my body to loosen up, I confidently titled my head and shrugged, "We don't have to do this, you know?"

"Oh, so you think because you could take down a few of those talentless punks that you're gonna get the better of me?" he smirked.

I returned the grin. He was really enjoying this, and for some reason, so was I.

And so we began. Despite being the size of a mountain, Arnaud was fast - really fast. Boy's really gotta cut down on the drugs. He has a long life of rejections from the female species ahead of him, after all.

But this wasn't a time for jokes; he got a good grip on me and for the first time today, I got thrown like a ragdoll.

Faith in their petty cause returning, Arnaud's fellow groupies cheered in hopeful excitement, but it quickly died down when they saw that I landed on my feet and readjusted. Taking advantage of his decreased height due to his bent forward position, I grabbed his head and threw him in front of me.

There wasn't time to pin him - he slipped through my grip and stood up again.

We continually stalemated one another - neither of us able to get a good grip or pin on the other. He was too big and strong, and I was too fast and mobile.

Eventually I decided to let him grab me by my left shoulder, and he took the bait.

"Now I've got him" I reflected.

I succeeded in breaking his grip, and I followed by pulling his arm up, coming in low and wrapping my arms around his legs, followed by lifting him sideways and throwing him down.

The ranting and raving of our spectators quelled. The match was over... or so I thought.

Approaching my foe to help him up, hoping that we can just let bygones be bygones, he quickly sucker punched me in the face.

I took a few stumbling steps back. "Talk about illegal. Isn't this supposed to be grappling?"

Hand on my cheek, my eyes quickly darted back to our coach, who said nothing. I guess anything goes now that Finley was getting the show of a lifetime?

Using my sleeve, I wiped the blood on my face and smirked. I closed the gap between us faster than a sumo wrestler at an all you can eat buffet and grabbed Arnaud by the arms and kneed him in the gut.

"Urgh." He recoiled.

There weren't any words. Despite the cheap shot, we looked at one another, twitching with excitement and smiling with mutual respect and anticipation.

What started off as a grappling gauntlet devolved into an all out, fist to cuffs, no holds barred brawl.

Strikes, throws, and maneuvers of all kinds were employed, and we were both having the time of our lives.

Eventually, we both even stopped blocking one another's body blows and turned this into a contest of endurance.

Some time passed, and he threw me onto my back and began to wail on me. Looking for my opportunity to finish this, I grabbed his arm, pulled him forward and kicked his back leg, throwing him off balance and putting him in a very uncomfortable deep split position. I rose to my feet, grabbed him by the head and threw him behind me.

He tried in vain to scramble to his feet, but eventually collapsed. It was over. The gauntlet was won, and I was declared the winner.

...

The downcast fanclub members all headed to the locker room while I stayed behind for a few moments listening to Coach Finley's adulations. Unwilling to take "no" for an answer to his inquiry about me signing up for the military academy, I dismissively told him that I would think about it and bolted out of there.

Upon arriving at the locker room, everyone went quiet. I was met with all too familiar looks of resentment, coupled with newer looks of defeat and shame.

I opened my mouth to say something, but I struggled to find the words I needed to extend an olive branch to the crowd of groupies.

"That's enough, guys." A familiar voice rasped.

I turned around and saw Arnaud sitting in the corner with his arms crossed and bruises on full display given his lack of a shirt.

"From now on, you punks are gonna give the new guy plenty of space and leave him alone."

All eyes darted from him, back to me, and back to him again.

"Is that clear?!"

The sycophants all nodded nervously and darted out of the locker room.

I gave Arnaud a curious look. Perhaps I had earned his respect for being the only fighter to give him a good brawl?

"Hey man, I'm sorry for the way we've treated ya."

He stood up, towel loosely hanging.

"Uhh... Sure. It's not problem." I recoiled while shielding my eyes uncomfortably.

He slowly approached me and continued with a softening voice, "I mean it. From now on, you and me - we're good."

"Gee thanks..."

My discomfort levels at an all time high, I quickly suggested, "Hey, uh... Could you please put on some clothes?"

Arnaud looked down and and chuckled, "Oh. Heh heh. Give me a sec."

I turned around as he threw on some undergarments. I suppose that was better than wearing a towel that was about to fall off, and he asked, "So where'd you learn to fight like that? I've never come across anyone so skilled and hardcore before."

"I don't know. I'm an amnesiac, remember?"

"Am-nee-zee... Oh right! Your mind's all mush!" He chortled.

"Well... Not exact... Nevermind. Sure." I followed.

"Come to think of it, of all the times I've snuck into Babel Tower to see the fights between the Elevens, there's something about your fighting style that looks just like theirs -only more fierce."

My jaw dropped. "What was that?!"

"Hmm? Oh, nothing. I was just saying you fight almost exactly like an Eleven."

My breathing became more shallow. An Eleven? Could this be a clue? I mean, what are the chances that a regular Britannian would know foreign hand-to-hand techniques? As I considered the possibilities, Arnaud interrupted me, "Hey man, uhh... You're pretty weird, but you're all right in my book. From now on, you and me," he put his hand on my shoulder, "we're rivals in love."

Rivals in love, eh? I suppose that's better than mortal enemies, and if this guy is my only competition, then I'm liking my chances.

We exchanged a few more words, ended up bumping fists, and parted ways.

...

Even though my first day of school started off as well as an old, beat up vehicle with a missing engine, it somehow ended well.

And now on to the main event. I briskly walked out of the building in a slight jog with a pace not all that dissimilar to that of an inmate with a 50 year sentence getting released early for good behavior and made my way towards the park for the highlight of my day.