(A/N) After wanting to write a no.6 fanfiction for ages, I have finally (with the help of my sister PuffinsandPelicans) been motivated enough to officially start one! I do not own No.6, but the following is all my own work. Enjoy!
Time seemed to have a way of slowing down, Nezumi thought, when one was bored stiffless. He knew staring at the clock in the hall wouldn't help the seconds go by quicker- in fact, it seemed to make the little hand move round the circle slower than usual- but despite the sea of new year sevens and their doting parents in front of them, the only face he was drawn to was the clock's.
Socialising had never been his forte, so he had inwardly thanked the school for employing what had to be the most long winded, boring head teacher Nezumi had ever met. After Rikiga sensei had finished his spiel on new beginnings and how amazing our school was, it would probably be 7.30; not enough time for the promised tea and biscuits and Nezumi would get to go home without giving himself a migraine talking to insufferable parents.
He sighed and leant against the wall at the back of the hall where all the tired teachers had congregated- it seemed cruel holding the welcoming social on a school night after a trying day's work, and for what seemed to be the hundredth time that day, Nezumi wondered why he became a teacher.
He had never intended to become a teacher, really. Like a lot of times in Nezumi's life, he never really knew what he wanted to do with his life when applying for university, and the only thing he seemed to be good at was English Literature. Even now, he could still remember the day when he decided to become a teacher.
He was strolling through the local library on a rainy day after school, when he came across The Happy Prince. There was only one battered, English copy sitting dejectedly on the end of the shelf, and suddenly Nezumi had been overcome with nostalgia. Because that was the book the boy liked to read, wasn't it? The one his mother read to him as a little boy, and the one that he in turn read to Nezumi. With his basic level of English Nezumi could barely read the book, but he took the book out anyway and vowed that he would finish it one day.
After studying and practising English, he finished The Happy Prince in just under two months. Acting like a domino, the only books Nezumi became interested in were those written in that beautiful language- where the words spilled over the pages like poetry. After weeks and weeks of monotonous living, Nezumi revelled in these new stories- ones that told of far off countries and worlds with lives more interesting than his could possibly ever be. These stories made the long days more bearable and the lonely nights warmer. Because Nezumi felt that he never belonged; never could relate to people, but in these stories he found friendship. Perhaps not the healthy kind, but it was definitely better than nothing.
And although he knew he could never possess the skill of turning these feelings into words - as his beloved authors did- he wished to fill his life with them. So what better way to do that then to teach the very language and the very stories that managed to make him feel things that almost nothing else could?
There was one other thing that could make Nezumi feel like that, but that was something Nezumi had tried to forget.
"So thank you very much for coming this evening, it has been a pleasure to meet our new students and their guardians- I hope you enjoyed this evening as I have done and you all have safe journeys home!" The applause that ensued Rikiga sensei's speech was what snapped Nezumi out of his day dream, and he saw his guess was right- it was 7.30.
Feeling an enormous sense of relief, Nezumi mumbled a goodbye to his colleagues around him, and like the rest of the hall, began to make their way to the exit. Only a couple more meters, and he would be out the door- he quickened his pace to move past the swarm of people catching up to him.
"Ah, Nezumi-sensei, would you mind coming here for a moment?" He stopped and closed his eyes, inwardly cursing as he spun round to face the headmaster, who was stood a meter away with another man and a child. He plastered a fake smile on his face that he thought would be convincing, though if anyone were to ask Rikiga sensei, he would say it looked rather like the face of a constipated man.
"Rikiga sensei, what could I possibly help you wi-" Nezumi's usual sarcastic comment to Rikiga was cut short by who was stood smiling next him. It couldn't be, could it? Yet even as this thought passed through Nezumi's mind, he knew it wasn't true- for he had only once seen such a young person with such amazingly white hair, and such deep red eyes.
Ignoring his unfinished sentence, Rikiga put a hand on the white haired man's shoulder.
"This is Shion, my good friend Karan's son and little Tamashi here," he playfully ruffled the hair of the boy stood in front of Shion, who definitely, without a doubt, was the boy- man- Nezumi had spent so much of his time trying to forget. Suddenly the room started to get hotter, and Nezumi resisted the urge to run away as fast as he could, and begged his heart to calm down. Because really, there was no need to be stressed out. Shion would not remember him, and everything would be ok.
"Tamashi was just telling me how into English literature he was, so you must introduce him to some of your favourite works! Mac-u-beth, ham-u-let!" He stumbled over the English names and Nezumi was too shocked to correct him.
"I'm sorry, you'll have me to blame for that; I've been taking Tamashi to the theatre for as long as I can remember- it is a big hobby of mine." Shion always was the type to apologise over insignificant things, Nezumi thought almost fondly, and he knew fully well why Shion liked theatre so much, but decided against saying anything. In response to Shion's piercing eye contact, his focus became the floor.
"Well for first years we teach The Happy Prince, but it would be good to start Shakespeare early in order to get used to it for second year. I'm sure one of our drama teachers would help you with some of the plays. Excuse me, it was nice to meet you but I need to catch a train." He bowed slightly, and let himself look one last time at Shion, who met his gaze with a friendly yet curious look.
Giving no time for a reply, Nezumi turned on his heels and headed back out the now deserted hall, feeling the red hot gaze still at his back. He did not have a train to catch, and surely Rikiga would reprimand him in the morning, but he couldn't wait there a minute longer.
It was only when he had climbed into his battered car that Nezumi properly thought about what he had just seen. Shion had grown older, as had he- and was no longer just a distant memory of all those years ago. He was no longer the sweet baker's son. He was most likely married, and now had a son of his own. A son that Nezumi would probably have to teach.
He leaned back against his head rest and inhaled deeply. His image of Shion had been shattered, but to the white haired wonder he was just an English teacher at his son's new school- and he intended to keep it that way.
He assumed this was to be an easy task- but he did not know that something had stirred inside Shion when he looked into those strangely familiar grey eyes- a nostalgia that he could not place. Something that, unbeknownst to Nezumi, he would think about until he fell asleep that night.
