The last thing Zeke remembered as the school building thing just...magically showed up right outta nowhere was thinking: "What the fuck". After that it was kind of a blur. There was a lot of wondering about brain damage and if he'd fallen asleep watching a Harry Potter marathon, and considering everyone around him insane for not questioning the invisible building in the middle of nowhere. There was also a lot of running in the opposite direction from everyone else, knocking people aside left and right, before being caught and dragged towards the "school" by two nameless, faceless goons like the ones that'd driven him there.

Or maybe they had names and faces and rather than dragging him in they'd just gently guided him towards a nice, comfy office. He really couldn't say, he was so dumbstruck he didn't even try to punch them and just kinda sorta almost listened to the lecture about some magical force or another and how they were being trained to use it. He would've told them that sounded mental and dangerously close to some cult child soldier shit if he were functional. Maybe he hadn't dodged that asshole truck driver the other week and he was actually dead now. Yeah that was totally it. The afterlife was weirdly okay, it was like something out of a chinese cartoon.

By the time he was led back outside in what felt like a really rushed, impromptu situation, Ezekiel had taken several deep breaths and more or less centered himself. If he was dead he might as well see how this whole thing went, what was the worst thing that could happen? It didn't, however, mean he was exactly calm. It was all too much to take in all at once and he was still more or less on autopilot, going about like a man posessed. Feeling the need to confirm he still, on some level, existed as he knew himself, he walked up to a tree, took a deep breath, assumed a perfectly square stance and dug his fist right into the bark.

Such an action would likely not go unnoticed by the two other teens standing nearby, a short red haired girl carrying around a baseball bat and an equally strangely redheaded asian carrying around a shinai like a spaz. Who the crap just carries a wooden sword around? If the first impact and the sudden sound of splintering wood didn't get their attention then perhaps the following two did. Practiced strikes done for form rather than power, each thrust of the fist accompanied by a matching pulling motion on the other arm, aimed in order at an imaginary nose, sternum and stomach. Then another set for good measure, each set in the blink of an eye.

Everything checked out. Breathing was fine, posture was solid, same distance, same impact. Dying wasn't too bad, he got to keep his body as it was and everything. Hell, he didn't know if he could trust himself but he felt a bit stronger and tougher. Then and only then he really took stock of the situation and saw the one kid looked to be dragging an actual sword around rather than a fake one. "Hey! The fuck you think you're doing with that?!" he called out, stepping up to the little shit with his mind in full guard and already measuring a conservative maai. "Put that shit away before you do something you'll regret".

[@CondorTalon] [@tipssyCalibrator]