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Though he had awaited this moment for quite a while, Howl was quite confident that the Hillworth Fencing team would lose their match today. Though épée was one of the least restrictive type of fencing, it had never been the effeminate lad's strong suit. He thrived off the intricacies of sabre fencing. Perhaps this would give the other two team members a moment to shine, but Howl doubted they could take advantage of such an opportunity. As he sat towards the end of their team's bench, he could not help but conclude that the matches would be quite miserable. He foresaw the score of 45-0, favoring Crystal Academy. Though such miserable thoughts played about in his mind, there was not a hint of negativity in the lad's expression. Howl had never been a pessimist, but he felt that the Hillworth team was not well prepared.

For a moment, he seemed more interested on the auditorium than the spectators. The building was quite clean, and the upkeep was superb. If only Hillworth had been so kind, rather than relying on the less-than-professional clean-up it would get from the various students. He yearned for such simple niceties as cleanliness.

After such a brief moment of mourning, his teal eyes caught upon the audience. One positive thing he noted about this entire match was the lack of Franz in the audience. If his roommate had not been cheering at another game, his team would have more than likely received a black card. Franz easily would have caused a ruckus in the name of "school spirit," which would have never flown in a fencing competition.

Having sorted out all of these thoughts in his head, he finally glanced over to the Crystal team's bench. There were three lovely ladies, all dressed up in the proper fencing gear. He would have a bout with each of them, lasting for 3 minutes or until one of them scored 5 points. Seeing as this was an épée competition, footwork was less important, but having a solid background in fencing, Howl was not about to abandon the basic rules of footwork. Any hit to the body (as registered by the electronic épée) was fair game. Counter attacking was essential in this type of tournament.

At least I might finally get a challenge he mentally sighed. I am certain one of these lovely ladies will be more skilled than a mere beginner.

There was only one reason to wear a cheerleading uniform to a fencing match. It was the same reason a person might wear one to a golf tournament or a shuffleboard competition or a polo match: to show that they could.

At Crystal Academy, they could. Larissa had worked to ensure that much, in fact. Their uniforms were expensive, and even more expensively tailored to fit nicely, and as Vice-Captain, she ensured that no matter what sport Crystal was competing in, the Cheer Squad would have a presence there. They were proper and committed school support the way it was supposed to be done. The cheer captains hosted hour-long meetings every week to brief the squad on the rules of the school's lesser-known sports, the ones they didn't choreograph routines for.

It was a matter of principle. This was Crystal Academy, and they aimed to be the Cadillac of pep squads.

The squad was always split up for events like this, since a lot of them took place at the same time. They had events they specialized in, from pickleball to bowling -- though a lot of the squad like to cheer on the bowling team.

Larissa had the fencing team, which she liked, especially since their star épéeist had recently become her lab partner. Miriam Jacobs was a stiff, serious girl who didn't take kindly or swiftly to strangers, but she was impressively tidy and fastidious as a lab partner, and Larissa appreciated that. And she got the idea that Miriam didn't have any friends. Someone like that needed a quality vice-captain of the cheer squad more than anyone.

"Everyone has their little rituals," she argued with careful diplomacy. "Even you. You tap your shoes by the toes before you go up for a bout. Did you see their bus driver? He looks like some kind of parolee." She peered carefully over to the other side of the floor while she twisted the cap back onto the San Pellegrino. "Though the fencers themselves at least look a bit more dignified."

Of all the lab partners in all the towns in all the world, none had ever been so perplexing as Larissa Duncan. She wasn't nice to Larissa. Well, she wasn't mean to Larissa either -- well, okay, no meaner than she was to anyone else -- she wasn't particularly mean to Larissa. But she wasn't especially nice to her either. Yet Larissa still kept making efforts to -- well, Miriam wasn't so much of a fool to think she wanted to be friends with her, but she kept making efforts to be friendly.

Not for the first time, Miriam found herself shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other, glancing at Larissa and wondering: what was her game? What was she after? Whatever it was, Miriam definitely hadn't given it to her yet. She didn't plan to, either. Miriam did not condone this kind of manipulation. Whatever Larissa's game was, she decided, she definitely was not going to get it past her. What did she take her for? Hell would freeze over before she let herself be taken in for the laughingstock of some gaggle of popular girls.

Preoccupied with this, she didn't hear the ref call en-garde, but she saw the fencers take their positions. Her attention snapped back to the bout.

Both fencers made guarded advances on one another, and then eased back again. This was the usual rhythm of épée. It would be a slow dance while the opponents took one another's measure, and then speed up with breakneck acceleration from there, until one of them scored a hit.

The Crystal girl was more daring than the Hillworth boy, Miriam noticed -- also not surprising, Crystal's coach drilled the consequences of fear into their heads. She scanned the small crowd briefly for their coach, Bastian Zahn, who was watching somewhat unreadably.

A few times each fencer made what looked like an advance, but backed off having tested the waters. Neither of them was biting. Larissa sucked in a breath next to her; Miriam trained her eyes on the Hillworth boy's footwork. Was he hesitant out of fear and inexperience, she wondered, or was this a tactic? And could her teammate tell which?

No. His footwork was sure. Hillworth Grammar School, Miriam realized, had some idea what it was doing.

Her teammate lunged suddenly. She heard Larissa gasp a little, and realized that she had a death grip on the pommel of her épée.

Miriam didn't look at Larissa. For all Larissa knew, she might not have heard Larissa at all -- though she had. Being the person that she was, though, she ignored about 90% of what people said anyway, unless it was going to be on an exam or was phrased as a direct question to her. "Erin's high-strung," she said critically: not with irritation, but with a measure of what sounded to be disappointment. "She's not taking this seriously. Or she's taking it too seriously. I'll speak to her."

She was well within her rights, too, as her teammate. Though not as her captain. She wasn't the captain. That rankled her terribly -- Miriam was very certain, and very certain that everyone else was certain too, that she deserved to be the captain of the fencing team. Instead that post belonged to Melanie Whittaker, the third fencer on today's line-up.

Melanie was no star fencer. Melanie was a solid fencer, Miriam could admit, but no one was ever dazzled by a solid fencer. But Melanie got along well with the rest of the team, all white teeth and a smile that showed it, and Miriam -- err -- look, fencing was not a team sport. This was ludicrous.

Yes, she'd have words with Erin. And then probably Bastian would have looks with her, but. Omelet. Breaking eggs.

Miriam glanced up and scanned the other two boys from Hillworth while Erin and her opponent closed in on each other again. "You know either of those? I've never seen them."

It was the strange-looking boy's turn to face Melanie. Miriam had been distracted by watching Erin re-join them; she walked to the sidelines with a nod to Miriam and a nod and a smile to Melanie, who clapped Erin's arm as if to say good show. Melanie knew as well as Miriam did that that was a lie. If Erin had made a good show, Hillworth would not have scored a single point. That was within the Crystal team's capabilities. Miriam nodded back to Erin nonetheless and crossed her arms as she watched Melanie stride out onto the field, securing her mask as she walked.

"Howl Wickham." She didn't look at Larissa this time either, which was beginning to seem symptomatic of her conversation style in general. "His name's as odd as his hair, I suppose. I've never seen him before. I wonder if he's any good."

As Howl and Melanie began testing the waters, Melanie held out her arm straight behind the bellguard of her épée, protecting it to the shoulder: she sacrificed quick maneuverability, though. Miriam shook her head, only to win a look from Bastian which said rather clearly don't distract the fencers.

Larissa frowned. It wasn't like Melanie to be struggling, but she was a conservative fencer, and for some reason, matching up against another conservative fencer was causing her problems.

"He's almost comically handsome, I thought," she said to her companion. The others were always easy to cheerlead, but Miriam was nearly impossible -- either she was pleased with things or she wasn't. Larissa felt she needed the most attention: she was a tough nut. "But a little bit vain, look at the way he prances. Maybe you could use all that posturing against him."

She winced as the Hillworth boy with the strange name and the strange hair landed a point on Melanie, who fell back into even more defensive patterns.

Behind his mask, Howl could not help but frown slightly as he scored the first point. During that momentary pause when the referee confirmed that Hillworth got the point, he could not help feeling disappointed. He was aware he should have been quite content with the fact he scored a point, but it still was disappointing to get the first one. Would this mean that the bout was doomed to have him be the only one scoring points?

His frown soon disappeared behind his protective mask once the bout resumed. He thrust his épée towards the girl, continuing to keep his offense strong, but there was a drastic change in Miss Whittaker's approach to the bout. She was no slouch and had upped her defensive tactics. For each direct attack and even for each feint, she managed to deflect it with a parry.

This put the thin lad on his toes slightly (in the figurative sense). No fencer would increase their defensive efforts without the eventual plan for an offensive attack of their own. The question which quickly flashed through his mind was when would it happen? And more precisely, was she the direct sort or the sort who relied on feints?

On the sidelines, his teammates continued to watch. They almost looked as if they were ready to celebrate Howl's victory in this bout.

Until it finally happened. Miss Whittaker finally went in directly as Howl went in for a feint to score a point for Crystal. Where as the Hillworth boys on the sidelines seemed to wilt a bit at the turn in events, Howl smiled slightly behind his mask. If it had been proper to state it, he would have mentioned to his opponent an encouraging "Well-played!" The referee confirmed the touch, and soon enough the two fencers were back at it. With only 30 seconds left in the bout, she had managed to change the whole pace of the game. Both fencers were now on the offensive and defensive, attempting to score at least one more point in vain.

"No. Melanie has a crush on Bastian." Ah, Miriam. "But even if she was facing Bastian, she'd try her hardest just to impress him. So even if she has a crush on this Hillworth boy, it wouldn't make a difference. Either Melanie woke up today and decided to be disappointing," ah, Miriam, "or Hillworth has some kind of creature of substance on its team. I'm hoping Melanie woke up and decided to be disappointing. That sounds a bit easier to fix."

As the fencers walked away, Melanie showing no sign of downtroddenness or shame -- but of course, that wasn't any more Melanie's way than it was Miriam's -- the names for the next bout were announced. Miriam stiffened, though didn't sound surprised at her own name; however, at the next name, she muttered, "what, are Howl Wickham's teammates just here for decoration?"

Larissa started to say something but Miriam said irritably, "I know they'll fight later, you'd think I'd understand how fencing matches work," and then a bit more stiltedly, "I'll be done in a moment. Don't let Melanie use my towel, she has clammy hands."

And without further ado, she snapped her mask over her face and walked out to meet her opponent.