[sub][color=papayawhip]Running shoes. Check. Underwear. Check. Journal. Check. Notes. Check....

The sound of students bustling through the school halls resonated through the walls. Boys being boys, yelling and shouting crude humor to each other. He could hear them over his music--low tempo beats with a piano accent. The air radiated wonder, curiosity, and excitement in its purest form. Ever since Gang Orca announced the training, everyone was fired up. Every first and second year was buzzing about it! Crazy.

Saint managed to finally flounder to this portion of his studies at UA. It had been a rough season for him and he wasn't proud of it. Since making the big leap of faith into this new world, he'd learned a lot about himself. First off, math was definitely not his subject. His study habits were garbage. He could write a paper, but he wasn't too eloquent about it. The only thing his mentors could rave about really were his intel gathering, stealth, critical thinking skills--especially under pressure--and the other more physical lessons. 

Unfortunately, that hadn't been enough to pass him on to his Sophomore year. But he was willing to push himself to adapt and catch up to the other students. Saint's vigor might have been what saved him from getting the boot. Even to this day, he spends extra time after classes deep into his studies. Especially since the council of teachers decided to shove him under Eraserhead's wing--something that's been a blessing and a bane...

He picked his bag up, pulled his hoodie as far over his head as it would go and headed out the building. "Yooo," Saint hummed to some of the others calling out to him and quickly slipped his earbuds into his ears, hiding the little music player in his hoodie--a gift from Ma. He wasn't antisocial, just not all that social with his peers. The lot of them were younger and it was a little awkward being one of the older boys in the first year lot and because he was tall, he stuck out. Somehow he ended up being "big brother" and as with most big brothers, he avoided the "pups" until he was cornered and roped into their shenanigans. 

The buses roared and hissed their way into the lot. Beaming faces chattered on about the potentials of these "combat exercises". Some were setting bets on beating each other. Some were dreading the entire thought of being out in the wilderness. The line ups were moving fast though, thank goodness. Saint flipped through songs with his thumb as he made his way onto his designated bus and into his seat. Solo dolo, as always...until someone encroached on his space. Golden eyes scanned his cohorts faces from behind thick curly cream bangs. Apparently, they were supposed to be on teams for this.[/color][/sub]