His uniform blazer was unbuttoned, almost disarrayed it hung around his slender body as though it were too long. The hem was meant to rest at the hips but his continued until the back of his thighs were covered; and while his torso and arms were clearly tapered the sleeves had been altered at the forearms to allow him full movement. He had even had the gall to use crimson thread to emphasize the changes.<br/><br/>But like many things at the Academy the teachers could issue punishments but the students were free to rebel as they chose.<br/><br/>He sat upon a bench near the stone fountain at the front of the school. His satchel sat beside him and he had one knee on the bench. A simple pad of blank paper rested on his knee and he was using a charcoal stick to sketch something. His mismatched eyes staring at the students who walked by as he drew. Though he didn't seem to encourage people to peek and see what he was working on.<br/><br/>He did greet those who spoke to him and didn't seem to be acting antisocial; just aloof.<br/><br/>The Combat Wing had performed their annual rankings and when the tournament for the Second Semester First Years had finished he was ranked number five out of three hundred. It was considered a phenomenal ranking; yet he didn't seem satisfied. He had done his best to win but he had been taken down by several powerful students.