2. Portent
Don't try catching fireworks in the rain.
Someone's ridiculous hipster shirt once said something like that, pretending to sound cool. It made absolutely no sense. Why fireworks? Can't it be thunder? That made more sense, if you tried going into the water, you'd die. Fireworks don't land in the water, they kinda just dissipate into the atmosphere or something.
But at the same time, why would you try catching thunder in the goddamn rain, did you mother not teach you to not go swimming in a thunderstorm? Is your brain alright?
I'm quite sure it isn't, which brought us to this chapter's opening.
Naomasa rested his chin on his palm, trying his best to think of some interesting, tricky topic he could get his students to write an essay on. Seeing as they were Junior High students getting ready for high school and better yet college, he needed something difficult, yet holding infinite potential in values. Something vague yet rich.
Seeing as the author of this story is a no-life student with little to no interest in this shit, he's having a hard time trying to come up with things.
God, why did he take up this job? Why is he in charge of the English pop quiz next week? Who suggested this? Who's the idiot that only told him about it today? Right, Principal Asano.
The lights in the office flickered on, surprising him. His coffee had gone cold, and it was nearly an hour into a new day. He was the only one left in the office, the last of the overtime victims taking off two hours ago.
"I see you are still here, Mr Kunomasu," Asano Gakuho stood by the doorway.
The tall, brown-haired man was suited up neatly, looking like being in school at this hour of the day was just a normal thing for him.
Nao stood up, "yes, sir-- my apologies, my work unfortunately ran a little later than usual. I will take my leave as soon as I can," he insisted, fumbling over his words. Nao kept his head hung low, bowing in a form of feared respect.
Naomasa did not like talking to that man. As much as he was holding a fairly stable spot in this school, Asano Gakuho had always been an eccentric character-- as someone that never liked talking to someone of authority, Naomasa felt threatened just being in the face of him.
Like he'd eat the younger teacher alive-- like he was standing in front of a hungry lion or something, he didn't like to be there. He wanted little to do with Mr Board Chairman.
"Please do not overwork yourself," Asano's smile was given out of kindness, but it did not feel friendly at all, "I would hate to see a teacher as prominent as you fall sick, after all."
"I am grateful for your concern, sir," Naomasa gave him a smile-- not as much out of happiness than of polite awareness-- Gathering up his belongings with his shaky hands, Nao closed his laptop, gathered his stationary, and shifted his books into his bag.
The last of his coffee was gulped down quickly-- leaving the cup on his desk, he passed the chairman at the door, bidding a polite goodbye as he apologized once again for the late stay on school grounds.
He made no move to question why the principal would be in school at this hour-- it was difficult to bring up, and hell, Naomasa wasn't interested either. He wouldn't wanna trigger some weird event flag by prying too far in.
One golden rule of the animeverse-- you should never meet up with the main antagonist by coincidence, especially those breed of antagonists that turn into a good guy halfway through. Those guys are teeming with death flags, so I infer from the wise words of one not-historical Okita something.
Naomasa left the school grounds-- looking back once to notice the Board Chairman seeing him off from the chairman's office window. Their eyes meeting, he waved. Nao waved back.
ー
"Sorry, Sakurai-san, yeah," Nao mumbled into his phone, the lady on the other end voicing herself snappy and angered, "I missed my appointment, I know-- I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier, I was... yes, I know it's important, but--"
His home-- the Sakurai Florist's-- was about a ten-minute's walk from the school.
Still, it was the frightful hour of the ox.
Naomasa was in no way scared of the dark or anything-- nor was he afraid of getting robbed-- he may be beansprout-armed, but he could pack a mean punch if he wanted to!
However vague, he held memories of his previous lifetime-- the life of a girl that lived through to college, yet died on one dark and stormy night-- it made him cautious of his surroundings in such a quiet hour.
"No shit!"
The loud voice gave Naomasa a horrible fright, and the teacher flinched away as laughter erupted in the very same direction-- an alley.
"Duude, there's no way we'd ever."
"Just for today, y'know?"
In pure curiosity-- these voice sounded like teenagers, after all; as a teacher, he couldn't just ignore them.
He took an untimely turn into the alley, tripped over his feet, and yelped disgracefully as he spilled his belongings over the ground in clumsiness.
"Oh, fuck."
There was silence. Looking up, he found a small gathering of students under a lonely street light. Some of them held cigarettes, others were slouched about in sloppy dressing. They didn't wear their uniforms, but as a teacher of many classes, Naomasa knew exactly who they were.
"You guys are first years," he muttered with a curse under his tongue. Picking himself up, trying to forget his inelegant stumble, he dusted himself.
The students were similar to the irritable bunch from the morning-- bold, courageous, rebellious-- and still not understanding the hierarchy system of this elite academy.
Potential Future 3-E students, Naomasa defined them, like Terasaka, people who don't understand the concept of this school yet.
They tutted, "it's Kuma-sensei," one blond boy raised a sarcastic tone, "fuck off, teacher, don't you know you ought to turn your eyes away in situations like these?"
Naomasa wanted to cringe-- here it was, and it made no goddamn sense.
He sighed, picking up his bookbag and stepping closer to the four teenagers, "you made it into Kunugigaoka, and you waste your opportunity like this? You'll end up in the E class, y'know."
They rolled their eyes, clicking their tongues.
"I'm sure you've seen the treatment they receive in the ceremony today," Naomasa lectured them, "I'd say we all would hate to end up there, am I wrong?"
None were really listening-- they were being obnoxious kids. Naomasa's words may only sound like any other nagging teacher's complaints to them. Naomasa knew there was no merit in continuing his speech.
Reaching out, Naomasa grasped at a boy's wrist-- the boy flinched, shocked, but was unable to pull away. The cigarette was snatched away, and dropped, where the teacher stepped to extinguish the flare. Naomasa took the cancer stick from the other boy's mouth and put it out on the wall.
"Wha-- what the fuck was that for?!" the boy was angered now, as if the answer were not obvious.
"It's against school rules to be smoking, kids," Naomasa smiled, a pretense of professionalism every teacher needed to have, "and it's also against school rules to be out this late away from your homes. Let's play nice and go home, alright? Your teacher here's really tired too."
Please fucking go home. Please fucking go home.
"Uhm, sir?" the blond boy had the gall to laugh, exasperated, "out of school grounds... I'm just some roadside punk; and you're just a shitty old man."
Some stepped into place behind Naomasa, as if to surround him--
A threat flow thick in the air, and Naomasa now knew the kids had little intention to oblige to any rules-- much less school rules.
Blondie stepped off the trash can he sat, on, picking out something from his back pocket-- a small, handheld, battery-charged taser gun.
He held it like it was a phone-- obviously an amateur. He flickered it on-- the silver-blue sparks of electrodes flickering to life. He raised it near to the teacher tauntingly.
Naomasa chortled, unaffected by the "what, your mommy bought you a taser? Is that considered cool with your gang or something?"
"You can laugh, but you won't be laughing anytime soon," Blondie groaned, "these things really hurt, y'know? I've used it before."
And he wasn't exactly wrong.
Teenager were mortifying beings sometimes, and electrocution hurts. Naomasa thought he saw the goddamn taser, but their richass parents apparently bought them two.
It began as a cold electric current that shot up like a knife through the rest of his senses-- then it forced his muscles to contract past their limits and bound them in place. Pain was horrendous, but the numbness and the overwhelming frustration overtook him as he found himself on the ground, incapacitated.
The kids laughed in victorious glee, thinking they'd won. After all-- what could this teacher do? This was an alley, in the wee hours of the morning. And they were students of an elite school. If they all played dumb, the teacher would be in a bad spot.
Naomasa knew that-- so the irritation only bubbled into rage. Laying on the ground, unable to even budge an inch, the startling depth of unconsciousness beginning to flood over his gaze--
His fist clenched-- he bit down on his lip.
Both muscles should've been completely numb, but he could move them. The voltage was a little weak, perhaps-- because he was recovering already.
The exhaustion that devastated his senses were tempting.
There was an ache at his chest. A very bad ache that grew like a deep, throbbing clench-- he heard his heart in his ears, the tune thrumming his brain.
It was somehow a little hard to breathe.
He'd felt like this before-- this same discomfort that just made him want to vomit from the nauseating unease that boiled in his chest. But there was nothing to throw up.
There was only endless throe.
Naomasa thought of the last time he'd felt like this-- ah, yes, he remembered, quite clearly-- the one memory of his past life that he remembered much more clearly than anything else.
Her fear, her screams, her cries-- on that stormy night-- crossing the street, a careless truck that drove himself into a telephone pole-- and the wires that came at her like a swinging razor that burned with the calls of death.
Then, darkness.
Naomasa stood up, groaning and leaning heavily on the wall. He did not like this, and he felt so fucking sick he just wanted to go home and sleep.
"Fuuck," he grunted, catching the attention of those irritably insane teens, "you guys made me remember something incredibly shitty."
The gang had turned around, alarmed. They were annoyed, too-- because, damn, can't this teacher get off their case already?
Sure, Naomasa would've, but they started it!
"The fuck?" they swore back, "didn't work, dude!"
"Then you do it this time!" his pal yelled back, irritated.
They seemed to be in disagreement, overconfidence booming within them. Naomasa was in no way someone that could beat anyone in a fight, much less anyone with a taser or some form of a weapon or something.
But his ears were ringing and he was just tired. Maybe he should've went for that stupid checkup this afternoon, for some reason his chest was hurting and his fingers were cold.
"Well, sir," the blond punk came up before him again-- a smug, jeering smile, "we kinda need you to stay down for a while longer. If you can, please forget our faces too!"
Naomasa was too far gone for calm.
Two quick steps forward, he sent one satisfying punch at the little imbecile's face.
The boy was blown back far-- and now, he was angry too. With one raging warcry, blue electrical discharge flew as he thrust the taser forward.
Keeping his calm, Naomasa swerved to the side. Fixing his pivot on one foot, effectively dodging the straightforward charge at him.
He grabbed the boy's wrist tightly, his other hand locking its place at the base of the boy's neck-- then, with a strength fueled by a surge of angry adrenaline, Nao pulled the boy forward and pushed him down to the ground.
Naomasa breathed out a sigh of relief, slightly proud.
"Not too bad for a weeb imitation," he muttered to himself.
He cast a glance at the others overlooking the scene from the side-- they were stunned with disbelief, locked in place and not daring to move.
"So, you said it. Outside school grounds, I'm just an old man and you're just a roadside punk," Naomasa returned the words.
Twisting the taser from the boy's arm, he calmly switched it off, bending the boy's arm in a painful hold as he stood calmly against the group of punks before him.
"So, what do you say we all go home and forget this bullshit ever happened?"