I did not win that argument. I sat in the infirmary staring at the slip Professor Beatrice had just handed me. “A WHOLE WEEK!” I didn't mean to shout, but it's hard not to when you're staring at straight bullshit. Lynne was beaming. She looked so proud and happy with herself. Professor L’Moussefluer maintained the same cheery smile she'd had from the get-go. “Professor Beatrice is simply the best!” Lynne said it like the little teacher's pet she was. Professor L’Moussefluer’s hands flew to her chest as she let out a happy little gasp of delight. “She's the smartest, nicest, sweetest, best professor! My absolute favourite!” Lynne hugged the professor, who gleefully hugged her back and kissed the top of Lynne's head. “Aww, thank you, love. You're my favorite student ever!” I stared blankly at both of these witches, teaming up to imprison me. Where did I fuck up? Probably when I was trying to show Lynne that my leg was better by hopping around on it and stuff. She did something to me after that. I wanted to say it was an actual martial arts technique, but I wasn't sure. She wrapped her arm around mine, grabbed my wrist and pinned the back of my hand against her hip. Then she used that position to practically lift me up so my weight would be off my supposed “bad leg.” I had no idea what she was doing at first, but my eyeball didn't want to find out if there was a needle involved. I grabbed Qasim. He had been so stable and solid, like a literal tree, only a few minutes ago when I tried to sweep him. This time it felt like I was grabbing at a mirage. His arms just drooped and I had nothing to really hold on to. I tried to free my arm from Lynne's grip. Holy shit, how strong is this girl? The back of my hand was glued to her hip. It felt like she had an invisible sheath and she'd just stuffed me inside it and equipped me like a wearable item for her next quest. “Wait! My leg's not hurt anymore! Hold on!” I looked back towards Qasim. “HELP!” He just looked at me uselessly, with nothing to offer but a nervous smile. “HELP ME, YOU COWARD!” “I'm sorry, my friend. I know death when I see it, and this is not my battle to die for.” I almost couldn't hear him because Lynne had already dragged me out of the training hall. I tried my best to get a good stable base and free my arm. But at the rate she was moving, it was impossible. I could only get dragged around. “Lynne, stop! What are you doing? I can walk. My leg is fine.” “Is it truly fine?” She wasn't really asking. “Yes! Look, I can hop on it.” She pulled my arm down tighter so I couldn't even attempt to jump and prove it. I ended up stumbling forward, my legs rushing to keep up with this fast-paced gremlin. She lifted my arm again so I wouldn't put too much pressure on my legs. I was shocked at how difficult it was to get out of her grip. Maybe I should be asking her to train me to outwrestle Mamoru. “This is precisely the problem, Mr. Xu. How many times must I remind you that the absence of pain is not the absence of injury?” “I couldn't hop or run around if it was injured. It doesn't even hurt.” Lynne turned and looked at me. “Where does it still hurt?” I looked into her vast blue, empathetic eyes, currently surrounded by her stern expression. Just tell her it doesn't hurt. “...My shin.” Fuck, why did I say that? She went right back to dragging me. “It's not even that bad! It's just a dull ache. It'll be gone by tomorrow.” She wasn't listening to me anymore. “You are fortunate I have no needle.” She continued dragging me. --- The infirmary was part of a much larger building outside the actual main Academy. It was a towering structure with four spires covered by a tented roof. Lynne had told me she had most of her classes in that building, but her classrooms were on the upper floors, and they were off-limits to regular non-medical students like me. The bottom was the infirmary, and that was open to all the students. But calling it an infirmary seemed deceptive. It was huge, like an actual hospital. It was just that the images that came to mind when I thought “hospital” didn't match what I was seeing. I mean, everything was clean, for starters, but the tools that were laid out looked more like some kind of niche torture devices. They were clean, though. Like silverware you could eat with. The linens on the beds were spotless. Some senior student was looking at my leg along with Lynne. Both of them were looking increasingly perplexed. “There's nothing wrong with my leg.” They ignored me. “Just yesterday he had severe inflammation and an abnormal gait caused by the swelling,” Lynne explained. “There was quite a bit of bruising around this area.” She pointed along the outside of my shin. The senior student pressed around where she indicated. “Here?” “Yes.” She pressed harder. “Does that hurt?” “No.” She pressed somewhere else. “No.” Then lower. “A little.” Both of them looked at me. “What?” “How much?” the student asked. “It's barely anything. Honestly, it's fine.” Lynne leaned closer and looked at my leg. The student pressed the first spot again. “This area is almost completely recovered.” I smiled. Lynne didn't. “How completely?” she asked. “If you hadn't told me when the injury occurred, I would've assumed this was several weeks old.” I didn't have to tell Lynne I told you so. I cast the expression at her instead. She didn't bite and ignored me. The student moved farther down my shin. “But this isn't.” She pressed again. I tried not to wince, but I think they noticed. “There,” she said. Lynne frowned. “That was injured as well.” “It still is, it seems.” The student moved her fingers back up. “But this section is barely injured at all.” “Yeah, it's fine. Can I go now?” Neither of them acknowledged me. I felt like some kind of test subject they were studying. Lynne reached down and touched the side of my shin. “And what of here?” The student checked it. “Almost completely recovered.” Lynne's expression changed slightly. “And here?” “It's the same.” She touched another spot farther down. The student pressed it. “No. This area is still inflamed.” Lynne stared at my leg before touching the first spot again. “I examined him here yesterday.” She continued looking around my calf. “And here.” She pointed to another area that felt completely fine. “I checked that as well.” Then she pointed farther down. “But I did not spend nearly as much time there.” The senior student ran her fingers over all three places again. “That doesn't make sense.” “I know. This is not how such an injury ought to heal.” I looked down at my leg. “I mean, it feels okay, so, like, can I go now?” Lynne gave me a look. I stayed seated. “The bruising shouldn't disappear in isolated patches like this,” the student said. “Maybe I'm just special.” Lynne looked at me. “Xu, do you comprehend how abnormal this is?” “Feels pretty normal. I listened to what you told me to do and it got better.” Lynne's expression flattened into disbelief. “What? I rested.” She stared at me. “What? I did!” I insisted. “You were in the training hall.” “I wasn't sparring.” “You were being held above Sir Nusseibeh's head.” “Not by choice. I was trying to throw him and he picked me up.” “So you were sparring.” “No, it's not sparring. It was just, like... a physical conversation.” The senior student looked between us. “Why was he over someone's head?” “I was trying to figure something out,” I said. “Because he is a heedless lackwit!” Lynne said at the exact same time. The student nodded like Lynne's explanation made considerably more sense. Damn, I forgot. I'm deep behind enemy lines right now. Lynne looked back down at my leg before her face lit up with realization. Well, more like an accusation. “You must not have obeyed all my directions.” “What?” “That must be it.” “What are you talking about?” She pointed at the areas that were almost healed. “These are the places I had shown you.” “You showed me the whole leg.” “I spent considerably more time examining these particular areas.” “Yeah?” “So most likely, you only cared properly for the parts I specifically directed you to treat.” “No, Lynne. I took care of the whole thing.” “How many times did you apply ice and compression?” I thought about it. It was actually a lot, but I didn't remember exactly how many times. I didn't know I was supposed to keep track. “I don't know. Like, a few times.” “How many?” “Like... multiple.” “That is not a number.” “It's more than once.” Lynne sighed. The senior student still looked confused. “I don't think improper use of ice and compression would explain this, though.” Lynne looked at her. “How so?” “Even if he completely ignored the rest of your instructions, this part should not be this far along.” She pressed the almost-healed section again. “Certain parts feel like they're already repaired.” I smiled again. “So I can spar.” “No,” both of them said. I frowned. The senior student moved my ankle through a few different positions. “Any pain?” “No.” She pressed against my foot. “Push.” I pushed. “Again.” I pushed harder. She switched directions. “Pull your foot towards you.” I did. She looked increasingly confused. Lynne looked increasingly concerned. I looked increasingly correct. “How long did you think this would take?” the student asked Lynne. Lynne sat down beside my leg. “Before he could walk normally again? Perhaps a week or two, depending upon how well he rested.” “Which I did.” I nodded. They both ignored me while Lynne continued. “But before I would have permitted him to return to proper combat training?” She looked at my leg. “Closer to a month.” “A MONTH?” Both of them looked at me. “Yes, Sir Xu. A month at minimum.” Lynne didn't raise her voice, but she said it so coldly she might as well have yelled. “I'd die.” “No, far from it. You would be quite healthy, uninjured and full of vitality.” “You want me to be miserable!” “I want you to be healthy first.” “What about mental health?” The senior student continued checking around my shin. “Whatever this is, it's quite abnormal.” She stood and turned towards the door. “One moment. Let me bring someone else in to look at it.” “Why?” “Because I don't understand what I'm seeing.” I sighed. I'm going to be here for a long time for no reason. She stepped towards the door and looked into the hallway. Then her face brightened. “Professor L’Moussefluer?” Someone outside stopped walking. A familiar face leaned back into view. “Yes?” The professor looked at the senior student. Then Lynne. Then me. Her eyes widened just slightly. “Oh.” I pointed at her. “Oh! You're the professor who helped me find the seamster.” Professor L’Moussefluer smiled. “Ah, shovel boy!” I felt my face drop. “Don't look so surprised. You're quite easy to remember.” I stared blankly while she strolled into the room. “Every time I walk into my classroom, I look directly at the panel you broke.” “Oh.” Lynne tried suppressing a smile. “I am really sorry about that.” “I know.” “I didn't mean to break it.” Professor L’Moussefluer tilted her head. “You only intended to throw a man through it?” “I didn't mean to do that either. It just kinda happened.” “Ah. An accident.” “Kinda?” “With a shovel.” I sighed. “Yes, with a shovel.” Her smile grew. “You should consider taking up horticulture.” I stared at her. “After that?” “Especially after that. Most students require several lessons before I trust them with a shovel.” She placed a hand on my shoulder. “You've already demonstrated initiative.” Lynne laughed before quickly covering her mouth. I looked at her. She turned away, trying not to laugh. “The shovel wasn't that nice.” Professor L’Moussefluer looked offended. “Excuse me?” “I didn't even use it like a shovel.” “How exactly did you use it?” “I hooked him.” “How does one hook another with a shovel?” “Where the metal meets the handle.” I held my hands out, trying to demonstrate the shape. “That little corner there. I hooked it around his neck because he was too tall to reach, then I turned, got him loaded onto my back and launched him.” I tried to recreate the motion while I was still sitting. So really it just looked like I was flailing my arms around and bending forward. Professor L’Moussefluer nodded as if this was news to her. The senior student looked vaguely horrified. “What?” I asked. Professor L’Moussefluer slowly brought a hand to her chin. She looked increasingly disappointed. “What?” “I was told you hit him with a shovel and threw him through the window.” “Yeah.” “I assumed you scooped him.” I stared at her. “Like... like dirt?” “Yes.” “That's not possible.” “I thought it sounded very impressive.” “You know how strong you'd have to be to do that?” She sighed. “I wish you hadn't told me.” “Why?” “It was far more entertaining to look at that shattered panel and imagine a boy scooping up a grown man with a shovel and tossing him out the window.” Lynne was laughing openly now. “Now I must imagine you violently launching him by his neck instead, like some barbaric trebuchet knocking apart my classroom walls.” “I mean, you can still pretend I scooped him and tossed him out if it makes you feel better.” “Quite disappointing, really. You could have been the greatest horticultural student. The greenhouse has been getting rather unruly and could use some proper tilling.” She sighed and looked at me, shaking her head in disappointment. She looked at me like a farm ox she'd just discovered wasn't strong enough to pull a plow. “I would merely have to teach you not to throw the soil, or the other students, out of the windows.” “I don't normally do that.” Unfortunately, with how much I remembered, I didn't have much proof to back up that claim. “Perhaps you really should take my class. You might enjoy learning the proper use of a shovel.” “The shovel was nice, but not that nice.” “You could benefit from learning horticulture in a less hostile environment. Because of you, we're now considerably more careful about explaining the proper use of gardening equipment to students.” “Wait, you guys had to change policy because of that?” “We clarified a few things.” “I'm sorry.” Professor L’Moussefluer laughed. “Oh, Xu, I'm teasing you.” Her expression softened. “The panel can be replaced.” She looked over at Lynne. “My beloved student cannot.” Professor L’Moussefluer looked back at me. “I am very grateful you were there.” “Oh.” I rubbed the back of my neck, not knowing how to react. “Um, thanks. No big deal, really.” “It was to me.” She smiled. Then, just as quickly, she turned towards the senior student. “Now, what did you want me to look at?” “My leg,” I said. “His injured leg,” Lynne immediately corrected. “It's mostly healed.” “You appear determined to make it mostly injured again.” Professor L’Moussefluer pulled over a stool while the senior student gave a much more helpful explanation. Professor L’Moussefluer listened while carefully running her fingers along my shin. Then Lynne explained what the injury had looked like two days earlier. She went into way more detail than even I remembered. Where the swelling had been. How much bruising there was. Which movements had caused pain. Then she started talking about how I had been limping like the very life force had been sucked out of my leg. “All right, now you're just exaggerating. It wasn't that bad.” “You could scarcely place your weight upon it.” “I could put my weight on it.” “Your countenance betrayed agony with each step you took.” “I could still put weight on it, though.” Professor L’Moussefluer glanced at me, then back to Lynne. “And by your estimate, my dearest Victoria?” “If he had actually rested, I expected the inflammation to improve significantly over the following week. But considering the severity of the strain, I would not have permitted him to return to regular training for several weeks.” “How many?” Lynne hesitated. “Perhaps three.” She looked at me. “Nearly a month before I would have considered unrestricted sparring sensible.” I rolled my eyes and groaned. Professor L’Moussefluer gave her full attention to Lynne. “I believe you.” Lynne looked up at the professor, wide-eyed. Professor L’Moussefluer smiled at her. “You're one of my best pupils, love. Your observations are excellent.” Lynne immediately sat a little straighter. “Especially your Grammar. You're very good at separating what a thing is from what you believe it means.” I looked between them. This was probably when I first detected that some bullshit was coming my way. Professor L’Moussefluer continued examining my leg. “If you tell me there was severe inflammation here two days ago, then I have no reason to believe you're mistaken.” She pressed on a few of the already healed areas before finding a spot that still kinda hurt. Her smile didn't disappear, but something about the way she was looking at my leg changed. She checked the first spot again. “Interesting.” “Is that a good thing?” “It's an interesting thing.” “That doesn't answer my question.” She looked at Lynne. “You tended to him personally?” “Yes, Professor.” “You examined him here?” “Yes.” “And here?” “I did.” “And this area?” “Only briefly. The swelling was considerably more pronounced above it.” Professor L’Moussefluer didn't say anything. She moved farther down until she reached my ankles and feet. “Pull your toes towards you.” I did. She put her hand against my foot. “Again.” I pulled harder. “Push.” I pushed. She checked the other leg. Then my calves. Her fingers lingered there for a moment. “Have your legs always looked like this?” I looked down at them. “Like what?” “This.” I took another look at my legs. I mean, I guess they were kinda skinny? “They are rather thin through the lower leg. Your arches are also unusually high.” She somehow maintained that pleasant smile, like nothing could possibly bother her peaceful state. I looked at my feet. “I guess.” “Have you ever had difficulty lifting your feet?” “No.” “Frequent falls?” “I don't think so.” “Did you have trouble running as a child?” I had to think about that one. Nope. Still no memories. “I don't know.” Her smile gave way to a look of maybe concern or curiosity. But it quickly returned. “All right.” She had me stand. Then go up onto my toes. Then my heels. Then balance on one leg. I followed each of her instructions, no issue or pain. “What exactly are we testing?” “Your legs.” “They're working.” “Yes.” “So I'm good.” “We shall see.” She sat back down and looked at my injured leg one more time. Then finally nodded to herself. “Well.” Lynne and I both seemed to have the exact same amount of anticipation. Just for completely different goals. Professor L’Moussefluer looked at me. “You may actually be right.” I'm pretty sure my face looked smug as fuck. I beamed that shit straight at Lynne like it was the Bat-Signal. Lynne looked completely flabbergasted. “About what?” She was grasping for anything, but all she could grab was that L. “At the current rate of recovery, I would not be surprised if the injury itself were essentially healed by tomorrow.” I shot upright. “I TOLD YOU!” Lynne's mouth dropped open. “IN YOUR FACE!” “That does not make hopping upon it a sensible decision!” “I WAS RIGHT!” “Nor does it excuse attempting to wrestle Sir Nusseibeh!” “I'M GONNA FUCK HIM UP! AND THEN I'M GETTING MAMORU NEXT!” I felt pumped. I'm done taking notes. I'm gonna fight tomorrow! Professor L’Moussefluer's smile didn't change. She slowly reached for a piece of paper. I was still looking at Lynne. “I'M GOING RIGHT BACK IN THERE TOMORROW!” I really had to draw out the tomorrow, had to bask in my victory in her own home court. Professor L’Moussefluer started writing. “I'M CALLING BOTH THEM BI—” She tore the paper free and handed it to me. I stopped and looked down. “A WHOLE WEEK!” And there it was. The exact straight bullshit I'd been staring at when I started thinking about how I'd ended up here. “NO!” I looked up at Lynne. She looked so proud of herself, just beaming that shit right into my eyeballs. Radiating smug joy. Professor L’Moussefluer maintained the same cheery smile she'd had from the get-go. “Professor Beatrice is simply the best!” Lynne's voice went up a few octaves, all cute and stuff, fucking pissing me off. Professor L’Moussefluer’s hands flew to her chest as she let out a happy little gasp of delight. “She's the smartest, nicest, sweetest, best professor! My absolute favourite!” Lynne hugged the professor, who gleefully hugged her back and kissed the top of Lynne's head. “Aww, thank you, love. You're my favorite student ever!” I stared blankly at both of these witches, teaming up to imprison me. This was completely unfair. Everyone was going to favor Lynne. Professor L’Moussefluer eventually released her and started writing on another piece of paper. “NO!” I just watched victory slip through my fingertips. No. There was never any victory to begin with. Professor Beatrice L’Moussefluer had cruelly dangled hope in front of me just to snatch it away. “These are your exercises, dear.” She said it like she didn't just crush my hopes and dreams. “My what?” She handed me the page. I looked down at it. It was just lame-ass exercises. Was she rubbing salt in the wound? “Stretching? Calf raises? I'm trying to fight!” “You require rehabilitation.” “I'll feel rehabilitated after I kick everybody's ass.” Professor L’Moussefluer laughed. “You may return to controlled training after I examine you next week.” I looked up. “Controlled training?” “Drilling. Light wrestling. Technical sparring.” “What about normal sparring?” “When your legs are strong enough that I am reasonably confident you will not immediately injure them again.” “How long is that?” “That depends entirely upon how seriously you take this.” “My legs work fine as is.” “Working and being conditioned for combat are not the same thing.” I looked at Lynne for support. She looked extremely pleased with where this was going. Now I was the one grasping for something, but there were only L's to be found. Professor L’Moussefluer continued. “Your upper body is considerably better developed than your legs. Whatever the cause, you need to correct that imbalance.” “So I work out.” “Yes.” “Sparring is working out.” “No.” “What do you mean, no?” “I mean precisely what I said.” “That's, like, your opinion or something.” “If you immediately return to throwing people around, permitting people to throw you around, kicking, wrestling and whatever else you appear determined to do, you're going to end up right back in here.” “Naw, I'll send them here.” She looked at me. “You have already returned to the training hall, where another student was holding you above his head.” “Okay, that was more of a conversa—” “Then, when Lynne informed you that you remained injured, you attempted to prove otherwise by repeatedly hopping upon the injured leg.” “Yeah, because it didn't hurt!” I didn't understand how they weren't getting this. Maybe if I hopped on it again to prove myself— “You are not hopping upon it again,” Lynne said. I looked at her. How the fuck did she know? Professor L’Moussefluer laughed. “You are reckless.” “What do you mean? You don't even know me.” I felt very offended. Professor L’Moussefluer tilted her head. “Don't I?” “No, we, like, barely met.” “Mr. Xu, I first met you because you were wandering around the Academy entirely lost.” “I was new.” “The next thing I heard, you had broken my greenhouse while fighting grown men with a shovel.” “I didn't actually break the glass with a shovel.” “No, you just used a man. And today I find you, two days into an injury, already back inside the training hall attempting to throw a boy who considerably outweighs you.” “If Lynne hadn't shown up, I would've got him.” Lynne scoffed. “You were above his head.” “That was just the first go at it.” Professor L’Moussefluer nodded slowly. “And then, when my dear Lynne attempted to prevent you from further injuring yourself, you demonstrated your recovery by hopping repeatedly upon the injured limb.” “Yeah, cause it works now.” “It was still causing you pain.” “Like barely.” “You already admitted as much to my pupil.” I glanced at Lynne. She smiled sweetly. Why was she so happy I don't get to have fun for a whole week? “I believe I possess enough evidence to make an educated prediction,” Professor L’Moussefluer stated. “What prediction?” “If I tell you that leg is fully healed tomorrow, you will immediately do something ridiculous with it.” “I will not.” “What were you planning to do tomorrow?” I paused. Humiliate Qasim and beat the shit out of Mamoru. Professor L’Moussefluer waited. Lynne waited. “Training.” “What sort of training?” “Normal training.” “With whom?” “...Doesn't matter,” I mumbled. “Mr. Xu.” I looked away. “Mamoru and Qasim.” Lynne shut her eyes like she was praying for patience. “Oh, for heaven's sake.” Professor L’Moussefluer smiled like I had personally completed her argument for her. “There we are.” “I can train with them. That doesn't prove nothing!” “It has proven quite a lot.” They all stared at me. Whatever, I'll just eat this loss before it gets worse. I learned my lesson. Never gloat to Lynne until I'm safely out of her lair. “Fine, whatever. One week without sparring, and then I'm done?” “Then I examine your legs again.” I stared at her. She just doesn't stop with the bullshit. “That's not what the paper says.” “The paper says you cannot spar for one week.” “Exactly.” “Yes.” “So after one week, I can spar.” “No.” “Then why does it say one week?” “Because after seven days you may return here and attempt to convince me.” “That sounds like something completely different.” “It is.” I pointed at the paper. “This is deceptive.” “The paper says you cannot spar for seven days. It does not say that on the eighth you may immediately permit Qasim to throw you through a wall.” “He wasn't going to throw me through a wall.” Professor L’Moussefluer smiled. “Would you prefer a glass panel instead?” I sighed. Lynne tried to hide another laugh. “Traitor.” “I have betrayed nothing. I have remained perfectly consistent in wishing you not to cripple yourself.” Professor L’Moussefluer tapped the exercise sheet in my hand. “Take those seriously.” I looked at it again. “This is boring.” “It is rehabilitation.” “That's a fancy way to say boring.” “Training need not entertain you.” “It should.” “It only need improve you.” “That sounds suspiciously like something a professor would say.” “I shall endeavor to recover from the accusation.” I looked back at the paper. “I don't understand how doing calf raises is supposed to help me beat Mamoru.” Professor L’Moussefluer glanced at me. “Is that your principal concern?” “Yes.” Lynne groaned. Professor L’Moussefluer, however, looked thoughtful. Then she pointed towards the page. “How many can you perform now?” “I don't know.” “Then find out.” This lady's not even my professor and she's already giving me homework. “Keep track. Perform them properly. Tomorrow, see whether you can do more. Improve your balance. Increase your resistance. Strengthen the muscles surrounding the ankle. If you require something to defeat, defeat yesterday's numbers.” I looked down at the sheet again. “So I'm fighting myself?” “If that prevents you from fighting Mamoru for seven days, then yes.” “Mamoru would be more fun.” “I have no doubt.” Professor L’Moussefluer began gathering her things. Lynne leaned closer to me. “You shall do precisely as she has instructed.” “Yeah, yeah.” “Xu.” “I said I would!” “You said ‘yeah, yeah.’” “That means yes times two.” “It means you are attempting to end the conversation without making a sincere promise.” Why was she like this? “I'll do the exercises.” “Properly?” “Yes.” “Every day?” “Lynne.” “Every day?” “Yes, ma'am!” She smiled. “Splendid.” Professor L’Moussefluer looked between us, amused. “Anything else I can help you with while I'm here?” “No.” The answer came out automatically. She nodded and started to turn away. Then I stopped. I looked down at my legs. Have your legs always looked like this? Have you ever had difficulty lifting your feet? Frequent falls? Trouble running as a child? I didn't know. I didn't know what my feet used to look like. I didn't know whether I fell a lot. I didn't know if I could run as a kid. I didn't even know if these legs had always worked. There were a lot of questions people kept asking me that I didn't know the answers to. I looked back at Professor L’Moussefluer. She worked in medical research. She seemed to know what she was talking about. And unlike Lynne, she wasn't currently threatening me with a needle. “Actually...” She stopped. “Yes?” I still wasn't sure if I wanted to tell her. But there was something else.

Chapter 33