After attending the remaining hour of prep school, Hajime returned home that night with a deep tiredness in his bones. He stood in front of the house gate and shoved his hands into his pockets to search for his key. The light on the second floor left side window was on, meaning that his younger sister had arrived earlier and was cooped up in her bedroom. He assumed that his mother was home as well, unless she had an impromptu dinner date with her friends. Hajime had no method of keeping track of his father's whereabouts, so the male didn't bother. The rusted silver key clanged against the metal gate as Hajime tried to insert it into the keyhole. As he pushed the gate open with his foot, something dropped to the ground.
Downturned eyes blearily peered at the white envelope. Frustration began to swell inside of him. He had a long afternoon -- terribly, frustratingly long -- and the mailman knew better than to leave the letters crammed on the door gate when there was a perfectly functioning mail box not even three feet away. The brown haired male bent down and snatched the letter with a huff, attempting to crumple the offending item in his palm but regretting it immediately afterward.
Pain flared from his palm as Hajime dropped the letter in surprise. Blood began to pool in the small crest of his cupped hand. The letter was once again on the ground, this time colored in hints of red. The male sighed, low and burdened, then reached down with his uninjured hand to pinch the corner of the envelope. Now that he was more observant, he noticed that there was a heaviness within the carrier. The male shook his head, the day just wouldn't end. Hajime ambled inside his house and slammed the door shut harder than usual.
The envelope was dropped onto the nearest surface, which happened to be the living room coffee table. Droplets of blood splattered across the dark wood; red also trailed down the smooth curvatures of his wrist as Hajime kept his hand raised and close to his chest. It was not often the brown haired male got hurt to the point of bleeding. He was meticulous enough with his plans and actions that these kinds of things just didn't happen. Staring at the wound, Hajime was conflicted. There was an inkling of an idea toward what was happening, but the male couldn't bring himself to believe it. This kind of thing only happened in movies. The young male crouched into a squat and set his hand on the coffee table, palm facing up, and used his other hand to painstakingly open the envelope. He carefully ripped the top and turned it upside down, allowing the contents to fall out.
Detached razor blades fell with a dull thud, the sharp edges stained with his blood. Tension crept along his form, muscles tight and nerves on edge because who could have done such a thing? The person who sent this awful letter must have been aware of his home address, and his schedule if he was the one to come across it first. Hajime tasted something acidic at the back of his throat as he swallowed at the thought of his younger sister or mother being the one to find the letter. They could have gotten hurt the same as he had. Hajime glanced at his injured hand and clenched his fist tightly, enduring the ache of pain.
Then again, Hajime eyed the razors and the torn envelope, he wasn't certain just yet that it was meant for him specifically. This underhanded threat was low-scale if it meant to intimidate either of his parents, but he wouldn't rule out the possibility just yet considering who they were. Hajime had to have gotten his terrible habit of inconveniencing the lives of others from someone, after all. Miho was out of the question though, seeing as she was a sweet bean that didn't have the capacity to hurt anyone, intentionally or not.
He noticed something stuck within the envelope and pulled it out. It was a piece of paper ripped from a notebook. Hajime read the scrawl written on the paper and scowled.
I'LL MAKE YOU PAY FOR WHAT YOU DID TO ME, TAKANO HAJIME. THEY WILL SEE WHAT SORT OF TRASH YOU REALLY ARE.
The male ran his uninjured hand through his hair, ruffling his brown locks in contemplation. Beneath the calculating exterior he carried, something trembled in anxiety at the message– the threat directed at him.
To be honest, Hajime had considered it the moment he caught sight of those photographs on the chairman's desk all those months ago, but he hoped to be wrong at the time. There was no doubt that Hajime was someone with a lot of regrets, misdeeds more like, that he would reconsider if given the chance. However, there were some things that Hajime would stand by for the sole reason that he thought it was the right thing to do, even if it wasn't exactly moral. It was foolish of him to think that of all the malicious and terrible things he's done in the past that none of those consequences would ever arise for him to face.
Yet, one regretful glance at the letter later, it would seem that his actions finally caught up to him. Someone had it out for him and by the looks of things, they held quite a grudge.
The brown haired male returned the razors and letter into the envelope and shoved it inside his bag, wiping up the droplets of spilled blood with the sleeve of his sweater. Hajime didn't want to draw attention to his personal plight when his mother and sister were chronic worrywarts. He swallowed, the male didn't even want to think of what would happen if his father caught wind of what happened.
The fifteen year old stood and went to the kitchen to wash out his wound, foregoing the lights since he was certain that he left a trail of blood on his way to the sink. The rush of water was loud in the silence as Hajime placed his wounded palm under the stream, wincing at the pressure. He stood there blankly. The entire day was personally one of the heaviest he's had in a while. Rather, it was not often that Hajime would face two somewhat traumatic events in a row. He only hoped that tomorrow would not be the same.
Hajime moved his wrist under the faucet, catching the trails of blood along his arm when the lights turned on. The male flinched, head snapping toward the doorway where a beautiful black haired woman in her early thirties stood. Hajime glanced at the red splotches on the ground and hoped his mother wouldn't approach beyond the center counter and see it.
"Hello dear, did you just get home?" Takano Saeko questioned and pulled on the strings of her silk robe, tying the ends together with fluid hand motions. Her hair was let loose over one shoulder, showing the smooth lithe of her neck and a peak of her collarbones. His mother was undoubtedly the prettiest woman he's ever seen. Which was a compliment toward himself, seeing as he inherited most of her features.
"Yes, Oka-san." Hajime replied smoothly, turning so that he could hide his wound. "I had a few more lessons to catch up on since I arrived late to prep a while ago." He heard the sound of footsteps approaching and closed his eyes in resignation.
"That's alright. As long as you don't push yourself, it's— Is that blood?!" Saeko stared at the trail of red blotches on the ground, following the trail until she was met with the tense backside of her son. The woman darted toward him and pulled on his arm, downturned mahogany eyes widening at the ragged cuts on his palm.
"What happened, Hajime?!" Reaching out to close the faucet, Saeko pulled her son toward the center counter and urged him to sit on the stool. Hajime watched with anxious eyes as his mother scrambled around the kitchen, her pink silken robe fluttering behind her. He wet his lips and replied,
"It's nothing serious, Oka-san. I just held the wrong side of the knife when washing the dishes just now." Hajime attempted a lie, poorly. A protesting noise passed his lips when his mother sat down beside him with a fully furnished first aid kit. One look at her stern glare silenced him.
Saeko sighed. "If you're going to lie, at least do it properly dear. You never wash the dishes when you get home." She brought out antiseptic spray, cotton, and a large square-patch band aid.
"At least I tried." Hajime commented with a shrug, "It doesn't even hurt that mu— Ow! Oka-san!" The cotton pressed against his wound harder than necessary, his mother raising a questioning eyebrow in response.
"Ah, sorry dear." She responded unapologetically. She resumed the light dabbing on his hand. "Now, will you tell me what really happened or must I force it out of you?"
Hajime watched as his mother thoroughly cleaned his wound and gently placed the band aid on it, finishing with a small pat to his palm. He gnawed at his bottom lip in thought. Though he normally wasn't one to avoid answering questions like these when it came to his mother, Hajime didn't want to trouble her. More so when he was still on thin ice with all that had transpired a few months ago.
He met her similar downturned eyes with his own and pursed his lips. "It's. . " He aimed to clench his injured fist, but thin, delicate fingers stopped him from doing so. Hajime sighed. "I promise it's nothing to worry about. I just hurt myself by accident." The glint of concern in her eyes was still present at his vague explanation, but Saeko reluctantly backed down at the sight of his closed expression.
She reached out and cupped his face, thumb rubbing underneath his left eye. "Mattaku. If you say so, Hajime-kun. I know you'd tell me if this was because of something serious." His stomach twisted at her words, because he was certain he wouldn't confide in her if this problem was related to the reason he transferred classes. He had already disappointed his parents when they found out about what he was doing, so he would rather solve this problem on his own. The teen looked down to avoid his mother's gentle gaze, only to be patted on the cheek with the hand still cupping his face.
"Try not to get hurt, dear." Saeko enunciated. "If I see you hurt again I'll have no choice but to bring out the big guns and call Hideo-kun over to baby proof the house." Hajime sweatdropped at his mother's determined and passionate expression. He placed his hand over his mother's hand and leaned into her palm with a smile.
"I don't think you need to go that far, Oka-san." Hajime commented.
Saeko shook her head disapprovingly, "Nonsense. Nothing is hurting my baby on my watch." She leaned forward, brushing his bangs back to press a kiss on his forehead. His mother stood with a pleased smile and gestured to the hallway that led to the stairs. "Up to bed you go, dear. I'll clean up here so just get some rest. Those eyebags of yours worry me. Miho-chan looks better than you and she stays up late every night reading comics."
His mother went to get a rag to clean up the mess on the floor as Hajime trudged up the stairs with a pout. "I don't look that bad."
Saeko smiled at the petulant tone of her son, his voice fading the farther he got upstairs. Once there was nothing but silence, her smile slowly dropped. The woman knelt down and wiped the blood spots in contemplation, her mother's intuition told her that her son was hiding something. Hajime wasn't that clumsy of a child to make such a mistake. He also wasn't one to lie so poorly when questioned about it. Something must have rattled the teen.
The days where she made irrational decisions had long passed, but every once in a while the urge became insatiable to handle. Especially when it concerned her husband and children.
Saeko sighed, the life of a mother was hard at times.
The next morning started out surprisingly peaceful, but that atmosphere was broken later on with a straightforward assassination attempt by Okuda. She stepped forward during the end of Home Economics and politely asked Korosensei to consume a poison she concocted. The female confessed that she wasn't the best at surprise attacks and so this was what she came up with as a result. Straightforwardly asking the target to consume a liquid that would (hopefully) kill him. Hajime sweatdropped at the explanation with his injured hand cautiously hanging at his side. He had taken to wrapping it up in bandages since the bad aid worked poorly against his intrusive thoughts that told him to peel it off. It earned him some concerned looks from his classmates when he walked in that morning, but luckily no one outright questioned it.
Hajime fumbled with the Erlenmeyer flasks scattered along the wide table that they used to extract food coloring from candies. He tried to pinch the glassware with his fingers so that his wound didn't press against it, when the flask was snatched from his hands altogether. The brown haired male looked up and was met with a side profile of Chiba cleaning the space beside him and gathering all the materials they used, snacks and the Erlenmeyer flasks included. The student didn't seem keen on acknowledging him anytime soon, Chiba walking toward the sink at the back of the room, which caused Hajime to sigh with a small smile on his face.
He glanced around the room, Okuda still urging their homeroom teacher to take a sip of her creation, and landed on a redhead student that stood on the other side of the table. The young male was not yet completely over what had happened that afternoon. Akabane had treated him to some ice cream as an unspoken apology (Hajime enjoyed the melon flavored treat), but the nonchalance the redhead displayed was slightly worrisome. Hajime decided to keep an eye on the student, just in case the male had any similar ideas planned in the future. The aforementioned student was currently watching the events unfold with interest. Korosensei dutifully drank the assortment of poisons that Okuda had presented to him.
"This is. . ." Horns sprouted from his bulbous head. "This tastes like sodium hydroxide. It would be harmful if drunk by humans but seems ineffective to me." Korosensei explained to a focused Okuda, who watched their teacher with a nervous furrow of eyebrows.
The next vial was consumed and Korosensei grew a pair of wings at the back of his round head, causing everyone to sweatdrop at his extravagant appearance. "This tastes like thallium acetate." Korosensei commented.
"Now, the last one!" The students watched in anticipation as Korosensei shook, experiencing whatever side effects from the poison. Hajime let his eyes aimlessly wander around the room in thought, wasn't it dangerous to allow a student to handle poisons during class? He was surprised the octopus didn't notice beforehand, given his nature of keeping them safe from harm and such.
Hajime looked back at their teacher only to be met with an utterly straight face. He raised an eyebrow, unable to understand the transformation process. "Aqua regia, hm. Every one of them changes my appearance to a certain extent." Korosensei spoke aloud his observations.
"Your expression is so tiny, Sensei!!" The students exclaimed loudly. "It looks like an emoticon!"
"Even if you hate me. Please don't come to hate assassination." Korosensei spoke with his deadpan expression, causing a huff to escape from the brown haired student. The teacher was an oddball for certain and surprisingly knowledgeable about assassination techniques that led to Hajime having multiple theories. What if Korosensei was a government project created with the sole purpose of being a weapon to use against other countries, only that it backfired? Hajime thought it was a likely scenario.
By the end of class that afternoon, his hand had begun to throb faintly in pain. The brown haired male slowly zipped up his school bag and held it by the straps with his uninjured hand, exhaling quietly. He was lucky it was his non-dominant hand that picked up the letter, otherwise Hajime would be feeling entirely different at that moment. The male decided to let things be and see how it would turn out, given that he had no clues regarding who was holding a grudge toward him. Hajime bothered a lot of people during his junior high school life. The list was terribly long if he wanted to count how many people would be pissed enough to do something like this.
As Hajime began to leave the classroom, he stopped by Okuda's desk for a moment. After his peace offering, the female was the normal amount of nervous toward him given her timid nature. Okuda had been promised an after school lesson with their homeroom teacher to further her success at making poison, so she was staying behind.
"Good luck at making your poison, Okuda-san." Hajime greeted, "I hope it works out well." Honestly, the whole making poisons with the target was suspicious, but who was he to intervene? Okuda brightened at the encouragement.
"Thank you, Takano-san!" She replied with earnest eyes. "I'll do my best! I hope you get better soon." She said, eyeing his hand with concern. Hajime smiled in response and bid her farewell as he left the classroom to go home.
The dine-out invitation that Hajime accepted a few days ago was rescheduled since Atsushi was roped into a family affair and Hifumi was invited out elsewhere. He was somewhat disappointed, given that the trio of friends hadn't met up since the beginning of classes. It was understandable as Hajime himself had been distant. Atsushi, however, promised that he would set up a proper plan in their group chat and suggested going to the arcade sometime soon.
The brown haired male stared at the opened group chat and decided to leave them on seen, since no one had confirmed their availability yet. Hajime tapped his phone against his mouth and sighed in boredom. The young male hadn't been able to spend time outside other than class and prep school because of the indefinite curfew his father had set. Hajime wasn't certain how exactly he was being monitored for that, but the guilt of his transgressions kept him from trying to find out.
Hopefully, the curfew would be lifted, and he could go back to doing what he usually did.
Hajime stared at the small group that formed in front of his desk. To be precise, Nagisa and Kayano were huddled near Okuda and questioning her about the large glass vial she cradled in her lap. Apparently, Korosensei had given her a formula to follow that would 'ensure the best results.' It smelt like a scheme even though Okuda looked so pleased with herself. He listened in on their conversation and raised his head as their homeroom teacher walked in.
Nagisa looked up and noticed the same, informing his classmate. "Ah, there he is. Are you going to give it to him?" The blue haired male asked.
Okuda stood from her seat. "Yes!"
Hajime observed as the dark haired female grew nervous as she approached the octopus, thrusting out her creation. "Sensei, here. . .'' Okuda stated, looking to the side as she waited for him to take the bottle. Korosensei stared at it with an ominous expression, even though his beady eyes and widespread grin remained unchanged. He grabbed the bottle and brought it to his mouth,
"Well done. . . I'll drink it right away." An eerie laugh escaped the octopus as he began to change appearance. "Nurufufufu. Thank you, Okuda-san." The octopus raised his limbs, which was undergoing transformation as veins bulged. "It seems that thanks to your medicine, I am advancing to a new stage." Okuda backed away in apprehension as Korosensei continued to cackle.
"Huh, what do you mean by—"
The students up front shielded their eyes at the force of pressure that pushed them back. In the place Korosensei once was, a pile of goo sat on top of the teacher's podium that had the same face as their teacher. Hajime sweatdropped at the sight of the melted form of their homeroom teacher.
Korosensei said, "The medicine you create for me is one which invigorates my cells and increases their fluidity." At that, the fluid-like form darted around the room and shoved itself into little corners and crevices, taunting the students to kill him while in his advanced state of form. Hajime shuddered and scooted his chair back as Korosensei splattered on his desk, covering his mouth in disgust. He stabbed his knife at the glob of matter and missed his target.
Hajime frowned as Korosensei moved away, darting to the corner of the room. Okuda realized she had been deceived as he had formerly thought and confronted their teacher. "To deceive someone, you must plan out your words. The power of language is a necessity to skillfully deliver poison. Your talent in science can be useful to everyone in the future. In order to make that understable to many people, please also work on the power of language and its role in delivering poison."
The young male returned back to his table as Korosensei enunciated Okuda's mistakes and the importance of knowing the target in order to properly deceive them. Okuda stuttered, understanding dawning on her expression. "I will!!"
Hajime pondered on the piece of advice given and pursed his lips, none of them really knew their teacher well. Korosensei, while having an exuberant personality, was suprisingly secretive. It would take a while for any of the students to soften up the mysterious octopus that claimed the position of being Class E's homeroom teacher. Hajime only hoped they'd have a solid plan to assassinate the creature by then.