Sasha

The Faculty of Medicine had maintained its usual rhythm since morning: classes, white coats, tired third-year students already mentally immersed in their practical training. But today, the schedule included an unusual lesson: a practical demonstration of first aid and basic emergency preparedness.

Classroom number 40 was prepared in advance. The desks were pushed into a corner, leaving an open space in the center. Training devices, tourniquets, bandages, and first-aid kits were neatly arranged on the tables. The life safety instructor, visibly tense, checked the time and heard the door open. The girls could attend en masse, as observers. The boys, however, had been warned beforehand: they would be participating in a practical demonstration.

As the clock struck the start of class, footsteps were heard in the hallway. Heavy, firm, confident.

Sasha was the first to enter.

Tall, in military uniform. His face was hidden by a balaclava, which made his sea-blue eyes seem even colder and more focused. He was in no hurry. He paused in the doorway, assessing the audience as if analyzing the situation before surgery. Behind him stood several of his students, equally silent and disciplined.

Sasha entered and stopped in the center of the room. Her voice was calm, even, and soft, but clearly audible to everyone:

"Good morning".

He slowly scanned the audience, pausing at the students.

"Their instructor asked them to demonstrate basic skills that, in a real situation, could cost them time. And sometimes, their lives."

One of his students carefully placed the training machines on the table. Sasha took a step closer, bowing his head slightly.

"Okay. Everyone in position. First I'll show you, and then you do it."