01 | Natural Selection

"We are pleased to inform you — you have been graciously accepted into Ranoa's Magic Academy as a gifted student. Please look below to find the list of many benefits we offer to you and your fellow classmates, though few of your caliber, and please enjoy your stay."

It plays through your head a thousand times on repeat. It wasn't even that long ago that you received that letter from the academy's officials, yet you've already engraved it in the thick of your mind. Like a broken record, it loops through your ears. To ease your nerves or to stroke the ego you aren't yet aware of, you don't quite know.

What you do know is that you feel good. No, great. Being accepted into this prestigious-ranking school is certainly no easy feat, and you've already crossed that line. Haven't broken a sweat.

You don't let it get to your head though. You might have been a genius from birth, taking into account your raw understanding of the magic arts from such a young and blooming age, but you're not arrogant. You know your place, you've learned your manners — both inside and out of the dinner table — and you definitely aren't a brat like some gifted people.

As you make your way down an empty corridor, you have to wonder: just who are you about to be grouped with? If you know anything about those who happen to come upon an opportunity to be labeled 'gifted' or 'special,' you know the majority of these people are cocky douchebags. Plain and simple.

That, or they act humble until they learn they actually hold power over some weak, lonely soul. This begins a power trip, and then they become a cocky douchebag.

Regardless, you're prepared for the worst. Before you push open those doors to your new classroom, you stop and take a breath.

"Relax. Play it cool. Everyone's probably gonna be gawking at the newbie, so introduce yourself casually," you reassure yourself, patting your cheeks. Get your head in the game. "No pressure. Stay cool. I got this."

Hesitant, fueled only by the frantic beating of your heart, you push open the doors. The hinges shriek in cold agony as they slide open, their pain subsiding abruptly once the doors can move no further.

There in the doorway you stand, the stranger, the outsider — an alien to these gifted students. Your heart thumps on an unstoppable rhythm, pounding your ribs. Your breath catches in your throat as this new world of privilege is bestowed upon you; the realm of the gifted, of the special, of the prestige!

...

It's oddly anticlimactic, considering the meager three other students seated in the class don't even bat an eye toward you. At the absence of a teacher, even, the room is caught in a deadly, awkward silence. You stare. No one stares back. There's a young dark-haired boy seated at the front of the class, quietly indulging in his studies. And in the very back two seats closest to the door, two gray-haired girls.

Seriously?

How embarrassing. Here you were, thinking this would be some grand entry to a whole new world of learning where the students would either love you or hate you. All there truly was lies in the letter of approval you received.

They were right. There really are only a few gifted students. You can't even believe it. Six seats for six students, an empty chalkboard up front for a teacher who doesn't exist — what is this?

You just decide to go with it. No use trying to solve the unsolvable. You carry your bag, find an empty seat in the middle row and settle down.

There's really not much to do. The officials weren't kidding. You had true free reign, not a worry in the world. You could kick back and look as carefree as the girl behind you if you really wanted to. Feet up on the desk, bored look on her face, a little pebble in her hand, fingers poised to flick it at you...

Wait—

Doink.

Just when you see it coming, the pebble smacks you on the forehead. You go to rub the tiny sting on your skin, piecing together the fact you may have earned that for subconsciously turning around and setting your lingering gaze on the beast-girl, one of the two who don pretty gray hair and those unmistakable animal ears.

This girl flaunts ears that resemble a cat's, and your guess is further solidified in fact when you see a long feline tail swaying behind her.

But that doesn't answer your question. "What was that for?"

"That seat's taken, nya," the girl says. "I suggest you take your sorry behind elsewhere."

You check the desk you're at for any remnants of another student's belongings. Much to your surprise, there's nothing at all. Just a clean brown slate of wood harboring a small jar of ink and a feather dipped within it. So, the seat is saved... for a ghost?

You turn and meet the girl's eyes again. "Someone sits here?"

"My books do," she sneers. She reaches under her desk and fishes through a leather bag on the floor, pulling out a spell tome built thick and sturdy. You watch as she prepares to toss it, your arms already poised to catch it before it smacks you in your head. Unlike a pebble, its hardback body would really hurt.

You hold her book, looking between the cover and the mocking grin on her face. The girl's cat ears twitch. She looks content.

"Do me a favor and put that book on my desk," she demands, referring plainly to the desk you chose to sit at. "Then scram. Find somewhere else to sit, nya."

Not even five minutes into your first "class" and you're already being bossed around. You look around to see if — maybe, just maybe — one of the other two students seated nearby will step in for you. Wouldn't be too bold to assume this cat-eared girl is an issue for most people and others know her well for her attitude.

To your surprise, neither of them are fazed in the slightest. The boy at the front is absorbed in his book; the other beast girl in the seat a few feet next to the cat-eared one is plainly glancing over at the scene, a slab of dried meat between her lips. She chews absentmindedly, clearly not giving you any thought. You wonder if she's friends with this other girl, and that's why she doesn't care what happens to you.

Actually, now that you think about it, they could be sisters. Even worse.

"Is this how you treat a new classmate?" you shoot the first girl a question.

She shrugs, careless. "It's not my fault you're a nyewbie. Learn some respect."

Ironic of her to say. You don't argue though. You expected this. Without another word, you set her book down on the desk, lift up, and are on your way to the seat across the aisle instead. The cat-girl's eyes follow you, her lips pursed in a tight line. She says nothing more as you take the seat in front of the other beast girl, this one's features resembling a canine.

Not even a few seconds after you plop down, the girl behind you starts sniffing at the air. Just as any dog would, she smells you despite being a decent distance away from you at all.

"You reek," she says in between the soft chewing on her rod of meat, "move up."

"I reek?" You turn around and face her, only to find the girl turning up her nose in disgust.

"Are you deaf? Move up."

"I just got here. Can't cut me some slack?"

The dog-girl bitterly shakes her head, pulling her eyes away from you. She looks at anything else, which is nothing in particular, still nibbling on her treat. She stares at you for a moment, a sidelong glare, her cheeks full.

"Move up already."

You're boiling inside. Part of you wants to give both of these brats a piece of your mind for kicking you around like this. Yeah, you fully expected people like this to be in this class, but come on. It's way too soon for this abuse.

Even though you want to bite back, you don't. There's no telling what these girls are capable of. They're gifted, after all, so they must be somewhat of a force to be reckoned with. You hold back the urge to snap, turn away from the girl and stand up yet again, ready to move.

Before you go though, you stop and face her again. She looks at you, cocking an eyebrow. The cat-girl, too, stares at you from her desk.

"What?" she snaps, meeting your eyes.

"At least let me introduce myself," you say in an attempt to lighten the mood. You bend a little, raising your hand to politely bow. "I'm Y/N, pleased to make your acquaintance. I look forward to being your lower classman."

"Well, you've got manners after all!" cries the cat-girl, attracting both your and her friend's eyes. She grins, crossing her arms beneath her breasts. "Obedient and well-mannered, just the way I like you nyew students. I'm Linia of the Doldia tribe, nya. I'm sure you've heard of it; we're well-known after all." The girl assumes a rather snooty demeanor, holding herself in high regard.

The dog-girl falls in line with the other beast girl, sighing but following her lead regardless. She swallows a chunk of her meat and looks over at you. "Pursena."

"Nice to meet you two," you say, and for a moment you think things are about to turn around between the three of you. All hope is lost when Linia flicks another pebble at you, hitting you square in the forehead. "Hey!"

Linia chuckles, her tail flickering to and fro as she stares at you dismissively. "Your little introduction doesn't mean you can keep taking up our seats, nyewbie. Get goin' — sit at the desk in the front and keep yer eyes to yourself."

Pursena nods. "Quickly, please. Like, I don't want to smell you anymore."

You showered quite thoroughly before coming here. These girls are just picking at you for fun...

Accepting that they really don't care for polite introductions, you go down to the desk at the front of the room near the boy who has been silent this whole time. Still he doesn't look at you and you don't look at him. You don't look back at the beast girls either as one of them — Linia mostly likely — snickers at your swift and shameful defeat.

First day here and you're already shaping up to be a toy for them to bat around. You lower your head onto your desk, caring not for studies right now.

In truth, you just hope their attitude toward you doesn't worsen and they simply disregard your existence as a whole. That way you'll just be a ghost to them, it'll be like you're not even here.

But something tells you that's not going to happen.