The Other Side - Tommyinnit x OC

Epilogue part 1

I sigh. "The fight was very good, but there are a couple of things to work on," I try to get some of them to talk, but they are sealed like vaults. I put my teacher hat on and talk to try and prompt them to answer. 

"As you know, your duelling classes encompass what you learn in hand-to-hand combat and swordsmanship, it's very different to your compulsory fencing classes. That's what makes duelling so difficult. Does anybody have a guess?"

This class had always been one of the quieter ones, but today is just not my day. Maybe half an answer will get them talking. 

"Henry's work with his sword was very good, but once we moved onto section B of the exam, his hand-to-hand combat was lacking. Can anybody tell me why?"

Silence and more fidgeting only this time I notice some of the students looking at one another. Do they really have no idea? I'm fighting a losing battle when the gym door groans, drawing everybody's attention to the back of the room. 

"His stance."

I fight an eye roll as Tommy shuts the entrance to the training hall behind him. I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose as he struts into the room in his favourite bomber jacket and goggles looking prouder than a peacock. 

Since I started working at the academy two years ago, he had been springing random surprise entrances at the end of my classes. Usually, it was to escort me home so I could get ready for a political event, take me to the Pube with the others, or because he was bored.  

I often call Tubbo or Ranboo at the request of some of my colleagues so they could help with presentations or demonstrations. The environmental sciences, herbology and physics teachers were completely smitten with Tubbo. Ranboo had become a favourite of the political classes. Wilbur, Niki, Sneeg, Beau, Scott and Jack have all been called in too at least once. Since their frequent appearances, other races of presenters and special guests from across the island have been coming to the academy to speak with students. It was amazing to listen to my friends talk about their passions with the students. Scott and Wilbur often joined me in my History class with the fledglings, seven-to-eleven-year-olds. At home, Niki often tells stories about swimming lessons with the chicks, five-to-seven-year-olds, or competitive juvenile swimmers. 

Whispers and sniggers start filling the room as Tommy draws closer. I don't need to eavesdrop to know that they're whispering about Tommy being an avian. There's always a constant reminder that special guests aren't appreciated by all the students yet. The kids have been raised just like I was, in homes with families who hated outsiders. The degree of prejudice varies, but at least the fledglings and chicks aren't as sheltered as I was. 

I put my teacher hat back on, recovering from my momentary concentration lapse, as Tommy struts over. He couldn't care less about what they were saying, but as a professor, I have to teach respect as well as the class content. 

"Everybody, please say hello to Mr Tom," I announce. They respond with a typical classroom mumble. 

In the back of the group, I notice a couple still sniggering and cracking shitting jokes. One of them makes eye contact with me long enough for me to send a warning glare. They're quick to shush the rest of their friends before I start dishing out warnings.

Unphased, Tommy continues with his usual prowess. "Henry, was it?" he looks at Henry, who had taken a small step back. Even the oldest kids tend to be intimidated by other races; another product of their upbringing. On my other side, Jess had puffed out her chest proudly. She's in my history class so she's probably seen Tommy more times than her classmates. 

"Your stance wasn't strong like your opponent's, which put you on the defensive," Tommy tells Henry. I notice how he keeps his tone soft to reassure the boy that he wasn't going to embarrass him.