Jack - Airbreak

It was his first day since transferring to a new school.  He’d struggled to get his bearings at first, but that was the problem his parents and teachers focused on rather than the one where he needed guidance.  It had always been a sore spot.  His temper.  His attitude.  Slower than most at something.  Blindingly competent in others.  Many looked at him and could not unsee a child.  Could not unmake the expectations of a clumsy fledgling.  These systems came in to play well before they met him.  It hadn’t been the first time they’d tried to correct from the wrong page.

Jack arrived at the classroom under the stewardship of one of the aids.  By then, A restless spirit had become hawkish, clawing at the winds and picking apart it’s prey.  Twenty eyes converged on him.  Some literal, some flinching from the sound, others, as one with the system and the universe.

Jack heard enough of the noise, and two very real people talking about him.  Two people that had the ability to judge, adapt, and suspend said spirit at a moment's notice.

Enough is enough.  I will be present when my own future is decided.

With a flap of his arms, he brought his foot down, his live force converging on the axis of movement.  He felt it, the moment his mana met that of the room.  The difference between his foot striking the atmosphere, and striking the physical form.  He resolved to perform to the latter, and by his agency, he would do so.

A heavy grunt of timber sounded from the opposite end of the room.  A window shattered, and several students stood up in alarm.  Jack could feel it.  The very veins and rhythm that allowed such damage to come to pass.  Dumbstruck that a single student was capable of such.

The professor and aide were less concerned with his abilities though.  Rather than soothing the restless crowd, they turned toward him, attempting to de-escalate with a spirit that had already been exorcized from his person.  They needed to restore confidence in the future of the class, but responsibility had trapped them in the moment.  Locked them in the past.  They could not see the eyes of reason in the other students because they were not looking as Jack was.

He counted.  Each group.  Each cluster of members.  Each response, troubled and empowered, and he listened to the rhythm of the room.  His power was great, but it would not compromise the building.  The class was safe.  He could be content with that.

A tone grated on his ear, directed at his person.  The two teachers had given up speaking to him directly, but that didn’t stop them from making an example of him.  A tug of war for his regards.  They really didn’t care for his input either.  Hearing the subjects of their debacle speak would only alter the disturbance.

So many pasts.  His homeroom assignment.  The professor’s qualifications.  His attendance records and priors.  They suggested taking notes from his previous school.  Oh they really didn’t want those.  They really shouldn’t have reminded him.  His heart pounded in his ears, this time carrying a variant of the rhythm of the room, teasing the promise of destruction.

He could do it.  By day's end, he could inflict several more instances of damage without more effort than it took to stand, take a seat, or copy notes from the board.  The question was if he was going to be calmer, or more agitated than average.  From the sound of the bidding war~

“I’ll take a seat if that’s alright.

“Now hold on young man~!”

Drat.  Now the bias was on disciplinary action.  Could it not be a skillset they cared about, or held relevant interest to the other students?  Bonding?  Advice?  No.  It was about whether they brought in a third party, or who they would ask to take the problem out of the classroom.  As if either one of them were committed to do so with his person.

Of course, if he said as much out loud… it’d be and ‘act’ of defiance.

Pride is a beast that humans do not dare to lose.  It underpins everything from self esteem to control to political power.  As impactful as the sun, be that above, to the west or beneath.  Warmth, feats and pressure answered to this untouchable entity.  Small signs obeyed it like a god.  There was no equal to it in the eyes of an adult.  Not here.  Not beyond the meals they shared with their associates.

For that reason, his previous teachers deemed him a misfit.  Pressured him harder than the others to follow, and tried their luck with special treatment.  Training him like a dog as though they knew his appetites.

He wouldn’t be that person again.   He couldn’t be passive.  He couldn’t be direct.  Perhaps if he gave them a choice.

“Do you need me upright like a scarecrow?  Martial arts aren’t my strong suit.  If you do need me on standby, I’d be willing to rest against a wall.  As it’s only my first, I have a long day to get through.”

It wasn’t perfect.  The aid wasn’t happy about being led, and the professor seemed reluctant to discard the subject.  The latter conceded to reason, directing Jack toward his seat.  Annoyingly, they did still need to act as an authority in the classroom, but at least their confidence was real.

As Jack reclaimed his seat, he monitored his attitude, as well as those of the neighboring groups, who may well become best resource.

“Hey, new guy~”

Jack blinked up at the speaker warily, and sighed, but squared his posture.  The professor was still collecting themself so he could feign interest without creating too much of a diversion.  He didn’t answer with more than a nod.

“Was that a spell?  Can you use magic?”

Jack shrugged and shook his head, “No, I don’t… I wasn’t trying to anyway.  I just wanted the voices in my head to stop talking for a moment.”

The speaker made a face like they’d swallowed a lemon, turned and fiddled with their pencil before glazing back, ducking their head down.

Jack huffed, but the quiet didn’t last.  Another voice came from behind.

“And they listen?”

Jack scoffed, then chuckled, “For a little bit.  They tend to surface again if the setting and all else haven’t changed, but when I really really want something and have a clear idea of how I want it to go, they cooperate.  When I sit down and let my thoughts wander, they take over.”

“Woah… take over~ you mean they make you do stuff?”

Jack winced, “Sometimes.” He turned to look over his supplies, “Sometimes when I’m scared or frustrated, when I need help real bad, can’t figure out my next move and get pushed into taking action.  When I’m so angry and confused and backwards that I don’t recognize my own skin anymore.  Something mean takes over.  Sometimes it’s so bad I can't do anything to stop it.  I have to do something with what it gives me.  Sometimes I break things.” He gestured toward the broken window and knocked over shelves, “Sometimes…” his voice became a whisper, “I break people.”

Student B blinked owlishly, a devious glint in their eye for something so loaded.  Jack shifted nervously under those eyes.  They weren’t grim or contemptuous.  They weren’t jeering or bold either.  Instead, those eyes made him feel gray and complicated.

“Could you… do you think you could teach me magic?”

Jack blinked and looked to the side.  He didn’t expect student A of all people would come back for seconds, as cowled as they’d seemed.

The teacher chose that moment to call them out, “Is something the matter?” they frowned and glanced over toward the desk then back again, “Jack?”

Jack’s cheeks puffed at the absurdity of the timing, an impish grin took over his face, and he threw his head back in a bark of laughter.  Emboldened, he responded without holding back, “You really wanna learn magic huh?”

The professor raised their eyebrows, and student A blushed furiously as their classmates giggled and ribbed one another.

Jack bobbed his head, mirth replaced with solemn contemplation, turning to face forward, face his desk, and then, face the professor, “Yo, teach.  How often does someone lose control of their magic?  What can we do when that happens?”

The professor frowned on the topic change for a fraction of a second, before delving into deeper consideration, “Well, unfortunately, the arcane is not my area of expertise.  There are stories-” he turned and folded his arms, “I doubt your peers would much appreciate extra homework.”

He blinked once in confusion, then his eyes slowly widened in disbelief.

Jack fought down the giddy ghost as it threatened to overtake him when a rogue hand rose in the corner of his eye.  Then a second.  And a third.  He didn’t look, for fear of setting that spirit on a manic rampage, but half the class must have raised their hands to volunteer.

The professor covered his face and chuckled, “Oh, very well.  The oldest example that comes to mind dates back to the year 43, when the~” 

The rest of his words were a bit muffled as the professor turned toward the blackboard.  Jack however could have heard him speaking from one hilltop to the next.  His eyes were riveted and his heart weighed in heavily.  His every fiber worked tirelessly to ensure that the illusion held, that the stark and desolate atmosphere most schools carried was soundly overpowered.  His hands and toes curled at the idea of answers.  Of a world where his quirks mattered.