The classroom behind the door was more of the same: Instructions on the chalk board, posters on the wall, and math formulas decorating what were otherwise quirky tidbits and ways to practice certain kanji.
In the teacher's absence, it seemed the students had decided to take advantage of the freedom to leave their seats and have a quick chat with their friends. But they were abuzz about something today, keeping their voices hushed. Their color and definition was gone as well, replaced by black shadowy figures. Their eyes were hollow white holes, mouths curved into smiles as they learned and spoke to one another.
"Poor Mi-chan... is she ever coming back?"
"Her mom probably needs to burn her bag and bury it first. Especially after Tatsumi touched it."
"She should have asked someone else..."
"I know! She should have known better."
"Sshh! He can hear you."
"Do I really care if he does? He's gross."
One by one, the minute features began to melt and turn into large white X's as they spoke, further blurring what little individuality they had. But seated to the left side of the class and near the window, surrounded by too many empty seats, was a boy of about 9 with short black hair.
His hands were clenched into fists atop his desk, gray eyes focusing on the surface of it. It seemed every inch of him was bunched up and ready to move, but something held him back.
"Why won't you just leave?"
The boy turned, looking to a shadow seated behind him by a pair of seats. The shadow stood, leaning hands against his (for the voice was another boy's) desktop.
"Nobody wants to sit next to you, or eat lunch with you. Nobody wants to touch you, or they'll turn weird like you!"
The boy grit his teeth. His eyes burned. He was so tired. This was happening every day. "My mom says th-there's nothin' weird about-!"
"'But mama says there-there-there's nothin' weeeeird!' You're a freak, Tatsumi. You play with dolls, you sew, you put girl stickers on your notebooks... you're supposed to be a boy but you're not, so what are you!?"
The boy didn't answer, eyes tearing up in frustration. But as the shadow talked, the others were in rapt attention, some even nodding, murmuring.
"See? You even cry like a girl! You know what you are? You're a qu%$*."
The word was lost in a horrific, grinding screech, something so distorted, while some of the watching crowd began to excitedly repeat the word, as if they were learning what word to use for this boy for the first time in their lives.
But the boy was upright in an instant, eyes wild, and he grabbed the chair he was just a moment ago occupying. In an instant, the chair hurtled across the room, striking the shadowy figure and sending it sprawling to the floor. In the wake of it, the room was silent.
The black-haired boy tread across the floor, stooped to grab the shadow by the collar and lifted him. He struck him in the face once, twice, watched blood stream from his nose. He raised his quivering fist again, teeth bared, tears streaming down his face... then, he stopped.
He dropped him. Breath seething between his teeth, the boy turned and made a beeline for the door, shoving aside every desk in his way, elbowing classmates until he could make his exit.
no subject
In the teacher's absence, it seemed the students had decided to take advantage of the freedom to leave their seats and have a quick chat with their friends. But they were abuzz about something today, keeping their voices hushed. Their color and definition was gone as well, replaced by black shadowy figures. Their eyes were hollow white holes, mouths curved into smiles as they learned and spoke to one another.
"Poor Mi-chan... is she ever coming back?"
"Her mom probably needs to burn her bag and bury it first. Especially after Tatsumi touched it."
"She should have asked someone else..."
"I know! She should have known better."
"Sshh! He can hear you."
"Do I really care if he does? He's gross."
One by one, the minute features began to melt and turn into large white X's as they spoke, further blurring what little individuality they had. But seated to the left side of the class and near the window, surrounded by too many empty seats, was a boy of about 9 with short black hair.
His hands were clenched into fists atop his desk, gray eyes focusing on the surface of it. It seemed every inch of him was bunched up and ready to move, but something held him back.
"Why won't you just leave?"
The boy turned, looking to a shadow seated behind him by a pair of seats. The shadow stood, leaning hands against his (for the voice was another boy's) desktop.
"Nobody wants to sit next to you, or eat lunch with you. Nobody wants to touch you, or they'll turn weird like you!"
The boy grit his teeth. His eyes burned. He was so tired. This was happening every day. "My mom says th-there's nothin' weird about-!"
"'But mama says there-there-there's nothin' weeeeird!' You're a freak, Tatsumi. You play with dolls, you sew, you put girl stickers on your notebooks... you're supposed to be a boy but you're not, so what are you!?"
The boy didn't answer, eyes tearing up in frustration. But as the shadow talked, the others were in rapt attention, some even nodding, murmuring.
"See? You even cry like a girl! You know what you are? You're a qu%$*."
The word was lost in a horrific, grinding screech, something so distorted, while some of the watching crowd began to excitedly repeat the word, as if they were learning what word to use for this boy for the first time in their lives.
But the boy was upright in an instant, eyes wild, and he grabbed the chair he was just a moment ago occupying. In an instant, the chair hurtled across the room, striking the shadowy figure and sending it sprawling to the floor. In the wake of it, the room was silent.
The black-haired boy tread across the floor, stooped to grab the shadow by the collar and lifted him. He struck him in the face once, twice, watched blood stream from his nose. He raised his quivering fist again, teeth bared, tears streaming down his face... then, he stopped.
He dropped him. Breath seething between his teeth, the boy turned and made a beeline for the door, shoving aside every desk in his way, elbowing classmates until he could make his exit.