Chapter Text
Naib had always been...different. It’s not like he didn’t blend into a crowd-- he was mostly average-- average smarts, average looks, average personality. Mostly, he had reminded himself. Apparently, taking weeks for an injury to affect his body was not average.
He remembered it starting when he was a kid. He’d been outside with his parents, running around in the field that surrounded their neighborhood. Eventually, young Naib lost his footing and tripped over his own feet-- right into a ditch. When his parents ran to him, gasping and praying-- “Son? Are you okay? Please tell us you’re not hurt!”
“I’m not hurt!” He had assured them. As far as he knew, he hadn’t even scraped his knees on the way down! He and his parents walked back to their small house, where they’d elected to eat homemade curry for dinner. That night, the young boy went to bed, feeling just as great as he had the day before.
It wasn’t until about two weeks later, when Naib woke up screaming in pain. His leg burned. It felt like there were bones piercing his skin and-- it looked broken. The door to his bedroom slammed open, his father storming into the room to figure out why his son was howling at about three in the morning. Naib had been rushed to the hospital, where, after a few hours of waiting, his pediatrician had come to the conclusion that his leg had indeed broken.
His parents had spent weeks trying to figure out Naib’s cause of injury, but there was no evidence that he’d somehow injured himself in his sleep. What exactly can a six year old do to hurt himself that bad?
After a few months of falling, tripping, crashing, and slamming, it finally clicked. Naib Subedar was ‘extraordinary’ by the world’s standards. Once injured, his status would remain healthy for periods, before the actual injury would appear on his body. This caused countless hospital visits, which eventually led to his family becoming rather poverty-stricken, especially compared to the rest of the boy’s friends and family.
-
Today was July twenty-fourth. Naib Subedar had turned sixteen approximately twenty-four hours ago. His parents had entered his room last night, handed him a fancy letter, and told him to think. When he opened the envelope, he scanned the cursive letters and stared down, eyes wide with shock. He, Naib Subedar, had been invited to attend a prestigious school for the ‘Extraordinarily Gifted’. He didn’t need to bring more than a backpack full of night-clothes and personal belongings, because the dean, Miss Nightingale, would supply his housing, food, and uniforms.
There was one catch-- he wouldn’t get to see his parents for a while. The school was very private-- they only enrolled thirty-five students every four years. However, he would be able to visit his parents for holidays and seasonal breaks. If he accepted, he’d be whisked away to London for four years, stuck with thirty-two strangers as someone else’s problem. Miss Nightingale, however, had also offered to move his parents somewhere better. She’d help them pay for living expenses, and rid them of their debt if Naib attended her private school.
-
Forty-eight hours later, Naib was sitting, wrapped in a tattered, green jacket, holding a ratty old backpack, and waiting for the train he had boarded to arrive in London. “We are sending two of our students to receive you,” the letter had explained, “Please do mention their behavior to us, they are here for extra credits.” That being said, Naib was still not ready to come face-to-face with two young men, dressed in expensive uniforms and waiting with a handful of jingling car-keys.
He looked up at the two, who both happened to be much taller than him. The first was a man with shaggy black hair, a thick piercing through his crooked-nose, and a deep tan. Naib had been tempted to ask about the large scar covering his eye, but the man seemed too intimidating to provide an answer worth hearing.
The second was a lanky man with shoulder-length brown hair, which fell over his eyes and framed his cheeks. His face was littered with splotches of oil and small burns, less severe than the other. His uniform seemed tattered and gross, like he’d played the worst game of mud wrestling and then rolled under a leaky car. He introduced himself as “Luca Balsa”, and his classmate was “Norton Campbell”.
It seemed like his partner couldn’t care any less about Naib, so he allowed Luca to talk his ear off about god-knows-what while they walked to the, unsurprisingly, nice car. As the thin man yanked open the driver’s door, he was playfully yanked away by the scarred teen.
“Luca,” he had said, his voice gruff and joking, “You know the rule.”
It seemed like the other was too smart to argue, ushering Naib into the back seat with him, tossing his bag up towards the passenger side.
“You’re gonna to love it here! Y’ get your dorm in one of the mansions-- probably the one with us! Y’ even get to work in a workshop based on your talent-- what was it again?...Doesn’t matter-- Actually--”
Naib had started to drown the talkative boy out by staring dramatically out the window. He wasn’t one for conversation, especially when it was about some fancy-pants school he was much too anxious to attend. After about an hour of driving, it seemed like they arrived, much to his dismay. Luca ended up snatching up his bag, while Norton led him to the school gates. A few minutes of waiting passed, before the three entered the school and into a large dining hall, where a bunch of ‘unruly’ teenagers had been waiting.
“It’s not too bad! Usually we only have outbursts when--”
The doors slammed open, revealing what Naib Could only describe as utter chaos.
-
Everyone was yelling and laughing, rushing around the hall to reach or grab to help the students-- stranded on a large, metal rack hanging from the ceiling. As far as he could tell, there were about three people up there-- a blond, who was dangling by his legs, reaching down towards another teen with stark-white hair. Behind the blond was a stocky teen with gold-toned curls and deep olive skin, sporting a chubby brunet on his shoulders. Said brunet dawned a blindfold and reached towards a nearby ceiling support.
“Brooke Rose! Get down here!” He had cried out, his hands extending to grab at an owl, who was perched happily just out of his reach. The teen underneath him cried out in annoyance, tumbling forward and bringing his classmates down with him.
With a look of horror, Naib rushed forward to help when the three came tumbling down-- but it looked like his attempts weren’t even needed. A rope had quickly been thrown around the orange-haired student’s waist, the teen forcefully pulled towards a sturdy, smug man’s shoulders. The blond had been caught by his white-haired friend, who proceeded to pull him tightly against his chest, possibly out of paranoia that the student would have ended up plastered around the dining hall. And the brunet-- he was cushioned by the largest swarm of bugs Naib had ever seen in his life. He would’ve been completely terrified, had the entire feat not been extremely impressive.
Once the three had safely reached the floor, some of the less-reckless students had rushed towards them, shouting and laughing.
“Victor! Mike! Eli! What the hell were you thinking?” A young woman with a satchel on her hip and the scariest glare Naib had ever seen approached the boys. She yanked two of them up by their ears, though the third seemed to be unphased by his surroundings. It didn’t even look like he noticed the other two being scolded, nor did he see the new student entering the room.
Instead, he calmly stood up, slamming his back into the wall behind him. His hands brushed against the wood, until he made his way past the crowd and towards the doors, where he was promptly yanked back by Norton.
“Nice try, Clark. Now, why don’t ya take th’ moment ta’ formally apologize ‘t the new student here?”
The brunet turned his head towards Naib, when a booming voice alerted the students that it was time to be serious.
“Ugh! Is it not your day off? Can we not behave for a moment to welcome our newest victim?”