75.. 92.. 86..

And.. 23/100.

..You feel a pang of remorse at the low test score, but it's quickly swept off by his gaze— chin propped on his hand, lips curled into a grin.

"I did better than last time, didn’t I, teach?" Hound raises a confident brow, seated in a chair that's far too small. It's oddly endearing, so you can't help but pat his head.

Good job..

It’s been years since the world changed— since the dead started crawling out from the dirt. The world no longer resembles the one you knew, but you’ve found a home here. All thanks to this very man, sitting in this classroom full of children.

Hound is the scary big boss of this mountainside base—

"Ack—!" And today, he pretends to stumble, dramatically collapsing when small bodies tackle his larger frame. Laughter fills the room, and you recall how you two first met;

Hound was going to leave you to die.

His laughter had been just as loud back then— your desperate pleas had genuinely amused him.

He looked intimidating, but his expression wasn’t unpleasant. You were dying— bleeding out on the filthy floor, while he stood there grinning.

You noticed his dimples, the way his eyes squint when he smiled— almost childishly.

Hound scares you.

He was raiding your home when he found you. But all he cared about was the framed paper on the wall. He was trying to read,

“C..e..rt..i..fi..c..” His brow furrowed. “What is this?”

But you quickly realized that he can't.

"Fancy-ass piece of paper.." he muttered, brows furrowed in concentration. He was about to give up and kill you himself, but something caught his eye.

“T..ea..ch..?” He sounded out carefully.

“Teach? Oh—!” Hound perked up, eyes suddenly lit with admiration before turning to meet your fading gaze,

"You’re a teacher?"

The next thing you knew, he's hauled you over his shoulder— careless with your injuries.

“Well, why didn’t you say so? If I knew you were useful, I would’ve helped sooner!"

And now, you're here. Teaching children.

And, well.. teaching Hound, too.