:: Attempt 11 | End of Me [1] ::
"Does he ever see the countless times I surrendered?
Or the battles I've fought but never mattered?
Does he see the way I've loved and lost?
The way I let go of the things I cherished most."
- "To The Boy I Couldn't See," poem quoted from "Exaltation" by FayeeeM
x + x
'Maybe it isn't worth it.'
Everything seems to stop at that same instant; the atmosphere, once so still, soon becomes filled with an incessant buzzing which rings within her ears. She can't breathe; as much as she tries, it appears that the oxygen she craves, which she desperately needs at this second, is being sucked out of the air, leaving her breathless. She can't speak; her lips are parted slightly as though to utter a protest, yet she cannot move.
"Tryin' to escape, aren't ya?" The man sneers, tightening his grasp upon the younger brunette's collar. The girl - Abel, as she had introduced herself a few days before - squirms within his grip, eyeing the man with utter hatred in her normally timid gaze.
The blonde snaps out of her stupor, clenching her tiny hands into fists. She's just eleven years old, for God's sake; how will she ever be able to free her only friend in this hellhole? 'I can do it if I try!' She mentally insists, furrowing her brow as she tackles the man.
"Let Abel go!"
"Yuu.." Abel gasps, still struggling to get free. "Go! Just go!"
She shakes her head, determination in her gray eyes as she drives her small fist into the man's gut. He staggers only slightly, backhanding the child as though she is a mere gnat, an annoyance.
"You lil' piece of--"
'Yuu' stands, swiping a hand over her mouth as she stares at the man with defiance. "I'm not leaving a friend behind!"
All that remains of her determination is pure, unadulterated anger as she glares at the male, regardless of the trembling in her tiny frame. So what if she's small; at least she tried.
"Yuu!"
Her gray eyes flutter open, still misted over with her lack of attention to her peers. Tsubaki straightens her posture, her gaze sweeping over the gathering crowd as she vainly attempts to smother the oncoming yawn. It isn't everyday that she wakes up in the wee hours of morning, unable to fall back into sleep, after all. However... A wry smile touches her lips as she falls into step with her class, settling into a barely proper line in the very center of the gymnasium.
At least I managed to have a couple more hours of rest compared to the time I was held captive.
The noise is deafening, to say the least. Students here and there meander about, breaking off into twos and threes; gossip - who is dating whom (Though it seems that the hottest topic is of Asano Gakushu and his 'girlfriend', Hanazono Aoi), and a certain 'Class E' - flitting about from one person to another; its original meaning diluted by countless additions to the tale. Tsubaki closes her eyes once more, rocking back onto her heels as she crosses her arms beneath her chest.
It's all so pointless - to debate over this fragment of a seemingly important soliloquy or other related to a random topic of their preference. So what if this Class E made its way down to the assembly 'shockingly' on time? So what if Aoi didn't appear to be the 'perfect' girl suitable for the also 'perfect' Asano?
A sigh escapes her lips as she loses herself in thought once more, carefully avoiding to glance at the now orderly lines. (Their teachers, quite successfully in their part, had finally herded their respective students in the rows prescribed for themselves earlier on.) It is honestly a waste of time to listen to the principal blabbering about perfection, high grades, etc.
Honestly, I would have managed to complete that essay in English on time if it wasn't for this nonsensical assembly..
"Essentially, you are the cream of the crop - this nation's chosen elite!" Speaking of whom, the Dean continues, much to the increasing impatience of a normally placid brunette. How elitist of you, Mr. School Dean, Tsubaki thinks rebelliously, keeping her gaze fixated upon the aforementioned middle-aged man. "I, your school dean, can vouch for that!"
Yeah, because everyone is stupid enough to take your word for it.
"But, if you're not careful..."
Tsubaki tenses, her jaw set into place as she clenches her hand into a fist, eyeing the dean's sudden change in demeanor. It isn't only him who developed an unprecedented hundred-and-eighty-degree turn; the atmosphere turns darker, a twisted sense of humor making its appearance into the once-calm air.
"...You could end up like a certain group of good-for-nothings!"
It's like watching a set of dominoes topple one after another; sly, malicious giggles erupt, creating a malevolent din filled with hissed whispers. Her gray eyes darken, evidently stormy in hue as she lowers her head, her fists shaking from her taut muscles. Beneath the cloth of her blazer, the jagged remains of her scars pull taut upon her pale skin as she draws her arm close to her torso, unable to look at the continuous jeering taking place.
Was this what I signed up for? This animistic display of degrading comments and laughter?
What has humanity fallen to?
She grits her teeth, blinking rapidly to ward away the tears attempting to slip past her volatile control. Images flit through her brain; a sense of helplessness, of long-forgotten anger sparking deep within her form.
What sort of false mirage have I deluded myself into? Tsubaki internally seethes, shutting her eyes tight as she vainly attempts to pay no attention to her surroundings.
"Now, now. We mustn't laugh at their expense." The dean amends, the false apologetic tone of his voice not doing any favors for the abhorrence the dark-haired Fujimoto feels within. "I suppose my comment was out of line."
She's sorely tempted to yell, "Damn straight you're out of line!" at the still-chuckling crowd of students. It sickens her to be in the same place, to be breathing in the same air as the foul creatures surrounding her.
It's the same as before. Tsubaki thinks angrily, blinking back her tears of frustration. Nothing's changed; I'm still as helpless as I was during that day two years ago.
"Hey, what's your name?" The little girl questions, her short brown hair bouncing as she creeps closer to the somewhat suspicious blonde. The other looks up, confusion swimming in her stormy gray eyes.
"Why are you asking me?"
She shrugs in return, flashing a childish grin as she reclines against the wall beside the slightly older girl.
"No reason; just thought I'd be your friend while we're stuck here!" She gestures to her bound hands, still smiling in that nonchalant way she has - as though it doesn't matter. As if nothing in the world aside from her given name matters.
Without any reason as to why, a slight smile takes hold of her lips as she shakes her long blonde hair out of her face, turning to look at the cheerful brunette.
"Isn't it common to give your name first before asking?"
The girl blinks, before a sheepish grin adorns her pale pink lips. If her hands were untied, the latter guesses, she would have scratched at her cheek.
"Name's Abel D. Eren, just Abel for short! Nice ta' meet ya!"
She smiles.
"I'm Yukari. Yukari Himuro."
"I'll call you Yuu-chan then!"
"Hey, then what did I tell you my entire name for?"
x + x
"Gakushu," I hiss under my breath, aiming a glare at the strawberry-blond male beside me. He simply looks over at me, oddly calm despite the tense atmosphere. As if all of these comments are a part of his daily routine, as common as the verbal scuffles we engage into whenever we talk. "What's the meaning of this?"
"This is simply our way of proclaiming who's superior in this institution." He replies calmly, tightening his grasp on my hand upon noticing my desire to snatch the aforementioned appendage away from his grip. "We aren't the scum in this situation; Class E are."
"So you reduce yourselves into this?" I snap, gazing at the humiliated class to the furthest point of my vision. Their shoulders are hunched, a sense of quiet defiance in their eyes as they avoid looking directly at their peers for fear, for apprehension of what they may see. Monsters, perhaps, hiding behind the faces of man, behind the faces of each and every one of the 'people' in this gymnasium. "Are you cowards to make use of petty name-calling and jeering to get your point across? How utterly disgusting, Shu. I never expected to see this from you." I scoff, looking him in the eyes. I don't try to look away, to avert my gaze; surely he can see how much I loathe this pathetic display?
Or he should; unless even he is blind with all the discrimination he grew up in?
"Have the years you spent in America changed your mindset, Aoi?" Gakushu questions, staring back at me with equal, if not more, coldness in his tone. His eyes, however, tell a different story. They are conflicted in a way that he appears to be constantly waging a war with himself; they are filled with pure confusion and uncertainty, interspersed with a sense of frigidity I'm now used to see within his purple irises. I blink, and the battle taking place disappears - to be covered up by a cold, apathetic gaze I'm familiar with. "Certainly you know that the strong prey upon the weak; in this way, certain victory may be claimed."
I shake my head furiously, an incensed rebuttal upon the tip of my tongue--
"Next is an address by the student council. Please start your preparations, student council." A woman's voice calls, and I snap to attention, almost immediately facing the front of the edifice. Key word? Almost.
"It appears that I should go," Gakushu utters quietly. I glance back at him for the sake of courtesy, rolling my eyes as if to say: "Well of course. Please go and we will continue this argument regarding moralities - specifically, your set of moralities - later when you have the time." He, in turn, merely steps even closer, a frigid hand clasping lightly over my left cheek as he swiftly presses his lips to mine. Again, much in the same manner as a few hours before.
I stiffen in place, unable to speak as a humiliating blush coats my cheeks at the contact. It is fleeting, not even lasting a couple seconds at best, yet it serves its purpose all the same.
He's smirking as he leaves, ascending the stairs leading up to the platform before he disappears into the backstage.
A slew of foul obscenities very nearly leaves my lips as I irritably swipe my handkerchief over my mouth. That's four times now, I think to myself, loathing the way I had temporarily gone immobile within his arms. What am I, a complete ignoramus whenever he comes near?
"Who's that teacher?"
"He's so stylish and cool!"
I look to my right, where a tall, broad-shouldered man with strangely aerodynamic hair greets one of the teachers lined up by the right wall of the gymnasium. Peculiarly, it doesn't seem to be like he is one of the many teachers in the main campus.
So who exactly is he?
"Who's he? A Class E teacher?"
I furrow my brow. There it is again, the Class E most commonly gossiped about by the students - and earlier mentioned by Gakushu. The target of the discrimination.
"Fine, fine. Here it is: 'Class 3-E'."
I tense. Can it be...?
"They all seem to get along.." A female student from Class D mutters.
"I'm jealous. All the guys and teachers in our class are butt-ugly."
Can it be any worse? I cringe as I overhear their envious comments, escalating even further as heels click upon the wooden floorboards. Oh, of course it will. I think sarcastically as an undeniably familiar face sashays forward, coming to a stop beside the surly-looking man.
"Whoa! Who's that super-hot foreign lady?!"
I internally groan, pinching the bridge of my nose as a dry smile quirks my lips. Of course she needs a dramatic entrance. She lives for fame.
"Is she an E Class teacher too?" Another queries, piquing my curiosity. I purse my lips, crossing my arms beneath my chest. All the evidence points toward this 'Class E' being the hideout of my target; Jelavic's appearance as a teacher of all professions here in this school only further seals this hypothesis.
I watch as the blonde hitwoman walks forward, whispering to the same familiar androgynous personage I had seen earlier. He (?) refused whatever demand Jelavic offers, only to be squashed into her weirdly large breasts. I wince at the sight.
Honestly, can't she have gone for the less detectable means of wheedling out information? I shake my head, an amused smile playing at my lips. No, of course she won't.
I detect a wave of envy from a vast majority of the male population; I roll my eyes, a smirk tugging at my lips. Wherever she goes, attention is focused upon her, and her alone. Not a pleasant factor for an infiltration-specialized assassin, I admit.
The key is keeping a low-profile, Jelavic. I think, my triumphant grin pulling down into a frown. Of course, not that I myself followed my hypocritical jurisdiction, what with all the rumors I overhear..
"What the hell?"
"The End Class isn't supposed to have fun!"
I watch, transfixed, as the taciturn man Jelavic had stood beside drags her off the poor student, kicking and screaming.
"Hey." A scowling girl taps my shoulder, the immense amount of makeup upon her face notifying me that she is one of the many fangirls vying for a certain Asano's attention. I turn to look at her, wiping all emotion from my face.
"What is it?"
Wordlessly, she thrusts a sheet of paper into my hands before turning on her heel once more. I mutter a few choice words in Spanish, just to spite this ignorant fan. What on earth is the use of this? I wonder, scanning the handout with less care than my peers displayed.
"All right! The student council events are explained on the handouts you've just been given." One of the Imbecilic Four announces rather cheerfully, much to the confusion of a certain section to my far right.
"Huh? What? Where are ours?" A boy with close-cropped hair questions, turning to his companions with a puzzled look on his face. A girl with short hair crosses two of her fingers in response, to which yet another of their classmates - an admittedly handsome boy with dark hair (Strangely with two antennae-resembling tufts of hair upon his head) and brown eyes calls to the speaker.
"Excuse me, Sir! Class E didn't get any handouts!"
A malicious smirk spreads across the green-haired boy's face as he looks at the class with a glimmer of twisted amusement. "You didn't get any? Now that's strange..."
I stiffen, now utterly certain of foul play. That damn bastard... I seethe, clenching my hands into tight fists once more. He was behind all of this, wasn't he?
"I'm sorry! It seems that we forgot to make some for 3-E!"
"One more - just one more fucking word and I'll have my hands drenched in blood." I hiss under my breath, glaring daggers at the injustice. What right did they have to trample over others?
"I guess you'll just have to memorize it all before you leave!" Another bout of snide laughter erupts at his words. Conniving little brats... "In fact, you and your classmates could stand to sharpen your memory anyway!"
"Don't you fucking dare mess with me." I snarl, unable to move from my spot. If I strike out now, I will lose all my chances of finding my target. I close my eyes, inhaling deeply despite the blood lust threatening to seep out of my trembling figure.
Keep a low profile, I remind myself sternly. No matter what, do not stand out more than what you think is needed.
A strong gust of wind rips through the air, sending what look like flashes of white towards the E Class members just as I open my eyes. Shock courses through my veins as I hastily wipe all emotion from my facade.
"Isogai-kun." An altogether cheery voice calls, directing all my attention to the source of the voice.
It's that creature again - the strange, inhuman figure Tsubaki and I had seen nearly a week ago; the same superhuman anomaly with incredible speed and a strange, bulbous yellow face with flexible appendages hidden beneath a teacher's robe and wig.
Jelavic and her companion appear to be quite surprised as well, bordering upon suspicious. It seems as though they hadn't expected the.. personage to have arrived in the middle of a school-wide assembly - or to even show its face.
"Oh, there we go!" The creature remarks cheerily, twirling a pen around its peculiarly large, gloved hand. "Everyone has a handwritten copy now, it would seem."
Handwritten copy? I narrow my eyes in curiosity, scanning the roughly twenty-six (?) students of the infamous Class 3-E. Sure enough, each of them now possess a copy of the handout in their hands, and all were looking through it with mild amusement at the inhuman being's arrival.
"Yes, sir!" The boy - Isogai, I remember him being called - replies, likewise looking at his copy. "Oh, we got our handouts! Please continue, Sir!"
The Imbecile looks astonished, to say the least. "What? N-no way! How?!" He aims a glare at the so-called End Class. "Hey, now! Who killed our fun?!" He clears his throat, looking mildly uncomfortable. "Let's continue! Let's take a look at the upcoming student council schedule. The student council.."
I tune out most of the speech, my gaze still fixated upon the strange happenings in the "End Class" better known as Class 3-E.
"Woah, I don't remember seeing that teacher just a second ago.."
"He seems kind of big. And... wriggly."
"Plus, that other teacher is going at it with him." Another student comments as Jelavic springs into action, swinging a strangely dark green knife as she attacks the weird creature.
"Is she trying to stab him?"
It all fits together, then. Without a word, I crumple the piece of paper once I'm done reading, carelessly letting it fall to the floor. I have no more use for it, after all.
I found my target: the alien known as "Korosensei."
x + x
I flip a page of my newly purchased book, leaning against the wall in idle boredom.
"For as is often the happenstance with that which is precious and lost, when you find him again..."
"Aoi." His voice is as suave as always, without the slightest hint betraying what he feels within. His voice alone casts a mirage, a false image most normally sees. "Follow me. It appears we have a lot to talk about."
"...he may not well be quite as you left him. [1]"
-To be continued.
[Word Count: 3,241. (Notes excluded.) Originally written: February 13th, 2016. Edited: January 20th, 2017.]
[1] Song suggestion: "End of Me" by A Day to Remember; suggested by Arctic_Sky / greyhavensking
[2] For as is often the happenstance..." - A quote from "The Mortal Instruments" series, book five: "The City of Lost Souls" by Cassandra Clare.