Seishiro got very little "sleep" as the room quickly filled in with the other students that were part of the Hunter's Club. Some he had met earlier in his classes, but he was still unfamiliar with most, being a transfer student. He stared wide-eyed at the others, trying to divine what bloodlines they might belong to, or what knowledge he could associate with their names. He knew a little Hunter lore from what his father told him, but most of what they knew was centuries out of date.

Regardless he was fascinated as he watched them bicker and chat among themselves; Seishiro had not grown up with others around his age, and the energy of other highschoolers was amusing to him. Many of them seemed quite nervous or high-strung, having obviously not practiced their introductions sufficiently. Preparation was the key to success, or so told an old Hunter aphorism. A few of the more casual students intrigued him, as did the foreigner in their midst. He was very curious about what Hunters were like in other countries. However, their teacher spoke up, and he withheld his curiosity for the moment.

After he was finished, Seishiro decided that he liked their teacher. Based on the first impression, at least. He seemed self-assured, but not overbearing. He had little frame of reference for other experienced hunters, the only other one he knew being his intense, tightly-focused father, and so it was an interesting change of pace. He consulted one of the handouts, intrigued by the data these city Hunters considered relevant for their task. Indeed he was quite familiar with bakekonchu; they were a frequent enough pest out in farmlands, and he had several dealings with them over the course of his training thus far.

Seishiro swung his feet off of the desk, his heavy boots thudding loudly against the floor, and he rose to his full height, sending the accoutrements covering his jacket jingling. He made eye contact with the bespectacled girl that had offered transportation to the location marked in the dossier, showing his interest in her offer. Really he could have ridden his bicycle there without much trouble, but he wanted to get to know his peers better. He raised his fist up to eye level in a gesture of determination, his studded leather gloves squeaking from the strength of his grip.

"Let's rock!" He offered the group, with a rough-and-ready affectation learned from long hours trying to imitate foreign movie actors and rock stars on old video tapes.