[center][img]http://i.imgur.com/a6RYmyh.png[/img]
[@Write][@Krayzikk][@Plank Sinatra][@Crimmy]

[url=https://gyazo.com/479ad4cbc049726492cbaf50097d05bc][h2]Dust Apps[/h2][/url][/center]


[b]"Wait, really?"[/b]

Wow, wait a minute...

We breezed through the halls at a light jog, having donned most of our uniforms after the chaotic learning experience of P.E. The results of our game aside, I felt like I'd grown a little more experienced in a live situation that I had no control over, so hopefully that was going to pay dividends in the long run. I'd barked out orders as they came to me, and when push came to shove, by the end of it I had shouldered the burden of vice-commanding as best I could.

But now I needed to turn my attention towards the next class, the next teacher, and the next skill I wanted to develop. I wasn't expecting leadership to come out of Physical Education in any respect, Dust Apps was as straightforward as you could get. Professor Cirsium would be there with Dust and we'd be there to learn dust.

...Professor Cirsium.

The lilac twintails, the slight build, the giant axe. I rolled the images over in my mind, trying to remember each year I'd plopped down in front of the TV, enraptured, as my Mother, Father, and one lucky sister (usually Dawn) crowded the couch. The year that immediately came to mind within these idyllic memories...

TSUN VS. BANK.

The Festival that hosted April's favorite match of all time.

[b]"Oh man, you're [i]right![/i] I didn't realize at all!" [/b]

How embarrassing, that was my favorite year, too!

Damn! Just when I had started to trust my brain!

[b]"Anyway, yeah, I've met her before. Family Day,"[/b] I intoned as we turned the corner before skidding to a stop in front of the lecture hall—I707. [b]"She's nice enough. Serious about her class, but nice. She talked me through what I needed to do to be ready when I signed up. I guess it came naturally since she's also a student counselor."[/b]

I reached for the door—

[b]"Oh, but one thing first."[/b]

I spoke to them in a voice as serious as the grave, making sure I looked Ben in the eye.

[b]"She's older than you think she is."[/b]

I opened the door.

As we, and the other students who had spotted the class's opening filed in and found our seats, my phone buzzed as I was retrieving my spiral— a text from Bianca.

>Hey kids! Gonna pick up some dinner for everyone tonight so we can meet up after classes <3
>Thank me later,

>Lots of love,
>Bianca Nuit

>P.S. Any requests????

Two sendoffs and a Post-Script.

Bianca...

We're just texting, you know?

Allowing myself a smirk, I quickly thumbed out a response as the bell sounded and a suited up Sensei strolled into the center of the front, nose scrunched up and stuck in a tablet. I had to admit, between my knowing her true age and her dressing the part of a professional lecturer, with the black tie and purple sweater and dress rather than a rabbit-eared hoodie, it was a lot easier for me to buy her as a member of faculty— even if she still looked as youthful as I did.

>Can't really think of any
>surprise me

I would regret that.

"[color=d8bfd8]My name is Teàrlag Cirsium, your Dust Applications teacher for this semester,[/color]" she said, [color=d8bfd8]"But before we start ..."[/color]

But I wouldn't regret this class.

I immediately snapped to attention as she snapped her fingers—

And quite plainly saw [i]magic[/i] before my eyes.

It started with ozone. The smell of thunder filled the hall, prompting me to almost wince and tighten my jaw. I had become uncomfortably familiar with the odor after my last outing on a mission, and found myself eternally thankful for my aura and semblance that no physiological damage had been permanent, somehow—

My tight jaw then slacked again as he smell gave way to sound, light, and heat. From Professor Cirsium's raised palm burst a gout of orange flame, streaming upwards in a torrent that threatened to lick the tiles of any ceiling that wasn't so high as I707's.

Threatened, but wouldn't have. 

All just as quickly, the tower of roaring flame [i]froze[/i].

For the briefest moment, we silently sat in awe of the sculpture, a crystalline obelisk of flowing whites and blues— and then it shattered. Powderized. Completely disintegrated, at only the whim of Cirsium.

The young-looking woman was framed in shining rain of diamond, snowfall of her own creation, as she turned her violet eyes back onto us.

"[color=d8bfd8] ... I'd like to say that absolutely none of you are allowed to fail this course.[/color]"

[i]Woah.[/i]

That was the coolest thing I'd ever seen a teacher do in my life. An academic teacher, too, Mom didn't [i]really[/i] count, but even with her inclusion, the sheer mastery of the elements that had been granted by Teàrlag Cirsium's application of Dust—

I wanted that.

I wanted to [i]be[/i] that.

Whatever it took, that kind of skill with something so ubiquitous in the Hunter's world as Dust was something I had to pursue. It could be the greatest equalizer of all for me, given my rushed application and eternal game of catch-up.

My mind was set. I am your humble white belt, O wise and mature Sensei. I am the lump of clay ready to be molded, the empty cup ready to be filled with knowledge.

The first words in my notebook for Dust Apps were as follows, hastily scratched out in the most energetic lines a pencil of mine had ever put to paper.

毎日勉強していなさい！！

[u]ＳＴＵＤＹ　ＥＶＥＲＹ　ＤＡＹ[/u]

[b]"I've [i]gotta[/i] learn how to do that."[/b]