pomegranate ink | y. okkotsu

ii

There was no attack nor sudden blast of energy. The room was silent and still, bar a faint sniffling noise. Aware that you could be walking into a trap but not really having much other choice, you entered the room and looked around.

Clearly, the sorcerer was a master of disguise. You could not make out a trace of him, not in any of the chairs and not at the teacher's desk. Indeed, the room seemed all but deserted, except for that infernal sound, like a child that had lost its mother. Perhaps this was a trick of the curse — it would drive you mad with its strange, pathetic cries and then strike when you were distracted.

This was a little bit infuriating, and your footsteps ceased to be the light, graceful walk you had perfected since childhood. Instead, you were stomping around the room like a petulant toddler, muttering swears under your breath. The fear had been mostly pushed down by anger — though, this might've been the curse's influence as well...you resented the creature and its sorcerer for manipulating you so thoroughly when you could not so much as see them. How unfair!

It appeared as though the room was clear; you were about to call Gojo and then leave when you heard a rustling. You froze, eyes widening as you remembered in a rush that you were facing a special-grade sorcerer and his special-grade curse. You wished you could go back to the irritation, but your earlier fear had made itself prominent again.

You slowly turned to face your foe. It was a boy — briefly, you wondered how you had missed him earlier — pressed against the wall under the window. He was hugging his knees to his chest, and though most of him was nondescript, fading into the shadows, the one thing that stuck out to you was the shade of his irises.

They were a distinctly poisonous blue, the same dark shade as dart frogs from the Amazon, shimmering with crystal tears that fell onto the lavender-tinted shadows under his eyes. Dark lashes brushed against his cheeks as he blinked at you. You blinked back.

"Please don't come any closer," he whispered. Your phone clattered to the floor, Gojo's contact still pulled up, and you did not have the self-possession to do anything but scream. Loudly, shrilly, it was altogether a terrible first impression. The boy reached his hands out as if to silence you, but this only made you scream louder, backing up quickly, unsure of what method he'd take to shut you up.

"You — don't — touch me! Don't touch me!" you said, gasping for air and pointing at him accusingly. He wilted, shoulders sagging. You did not falter. You would not fall for one of his tricks.

"I wasn't going to," he muttered miserably, "Or else she'd kill you."

"Well, all the more reason for you to stay away! What are you doing, creepily appearing like that? Are you the sorcerer? Are you the one who hurt all of those people?" you snapped. He covered his ears at the barrage of questions; you scowled firmly. He was piteous, but you did not dare let this sway you.

"I've been here the entire time. You just didn't notice, and I didn't want to call attention to myself in case she noticed," he said finally, quietly, "And I don't know what a sorcerer is. Rika hurt those people. Rika always does. She's trying to protect me."

"Is Rika the sorcerer, then?" you said, "Odd name for a high school boy. Wait! Are you a high school boy?"

"Yes," he said, "Rika's not a high school boy, though. She's a girl. Or she used to be, at any rate."

"Used to be," you said, your racing heart calming, the adrenaline fading as the boy proved himself to at least be a willing conversationalist. He had not tried to attack you yet, so as long as you kept your guard up, talking to him could prove productive. "So she's the curse, then."

"I guess so," he said, nodding his head towards the closet door, "She's in there, probably. If you want an interview or something."

"No, thanks," you said, wrinkling your nose at the blood trickling down the floor, "I'm assuming she attacked someone and they're in there? No matter, we have people at the school that will take care of them soon enough. They'll live. Probably."