A very odd fiction. Sadness at the end.

If you can guess who this is about (and it should be very obvious) then I will give you a...a...pancake!!!! I'm very good at making pancakes.

Done during science class. When are my stories NOT? D

Well, read and review!!!!

Quiet dark, soft silence. Nothing else but himself and his thoughts. He loves this time of the day, when the sun is not up, when nobody else is awake but him. And...he is also in complete control of himself at this time.

He sits up now, gazing around his room. So ordinary, and yet there are the subtleties that only show to him. And, some times, he wishes she knew. And some times, he doesn't want her to see. Doesn't want her to know what is wrong with him, because it is his own imperfections that make her so flawless.

Clothes fall to the floor as he removes his pajamas and pulls on the uniform required at his high school. He leaves the tie loose for now; he'll do it up later. His bag is packed, his hair is comber; is he ready to face the chaos of the day? No, he thinks. He's never ready. He never has been.

Light steps on the stairs. Somebody else is up, probably his younger sister to make breakfast. A second light step. His other younger sister, going to water the plants. Last, a heavier step that belongs to his father, heading tiredly down to brew his morning coffee. And now, he takes one last deep breath in the wonderful solitude of his room, and heads out the door.

Breakfast is chaotic, as always. The television is on, the news reporters blaring away. After this morning meal, he gets his book bag, and heads out the door, on his way to school. As he walks, he fixes his tie so the teacher cannot give him detention for inappropriate clothing.

His first period is math. The teacher stands at the board and explains the concept of linear pairs to the class. Several paper ball fights are started whenever the teacher turns to add a note on the board, and abruptly ceases when he turns back to answer a student's question. He doesn't participate in the paper fights; he makes tiny flowers out of brightly colored sheets of origami paper to give to her during fourth period, when they will see each other.

Second period: English. The books aren't in English, of course they're not. The literature is English though, and as the teacher walks them through the Shakespearean play The Tempest, his eyes dart across the kanji on the page. These plays aren't that interesting, but he likes to read them anyway, if only for the sake of having something to make her laugh.

Third period: Wood Shop. This is probably his favorite class of the day, where he can lose himself in the occupation of building. The teacher is letting them create whatever they want to, and right now he is concentrating on making bunches of tiny hearts and flowers to fill the glass gumball machine they had made earlier in the year. He won't finish today. Maybe tomorrow, two days from now. But definitely in time for her birthday.

Fourth period: His absolute favorite class. He isn't so hot at science, but he enjoys this class because she is in it. While the science video is playing, they quietly exchange notes. This is easy to do, since they sit next to each other and do not have to resort to asking other people to pass the notes for them. At the end of fourth period, he presents her with the origami bouquets. She giggles and accepts them. Her thanks is unspoken, but it is there. They part ways for lunch, each going off to eat with their groups of friends, because boys and girls are not allowed to sit with each other. To prevent "profanity," the school administrators say.

After lunch, fifth period: P.E. Even though he is a guy, he really could care less about P.E. Football is fun, sure, but he knows it means more work for his younger sisters to wash out the dirt and grass stains in his P.E. clothes.

Then 6th period. History. It's okay. The teacher is cool, and he does like learning about his country's history. It's fascinating to read about what was going on in Japan three, four, five centuries ago. Their homework is light, just taking notes, and when the bell rings for the end of school, he rushes out and sprints to her classroom on the second floor to greet her.

As they exchange greetings, he asks her what she wants to do. After all, they do still have about three hours left. He smiles. He loves having quality time with her, but hates having to hide his faults. But he will erase that shame and have some fun, if only for a few hours.

She proposes a walk along the river, and he readily agrees. He likes the river, and he likes to walk. He knows she does, too, and thinks that their love of walking and water might be a piece of tape holding their relationship together. But he knows it is more than that. He knows that he loves her, and that she readily returns his affection. And that, in itself, just that knowledge of accepting and returning love in a neverending cycle, is the strongest piece of tape holding them together.

The joy is over far too soon. Too soon for both of them. He tells her he needs to go, and gives her a quick kiss in apologetic farewell. She asks him why. He tells her he is past his curfew. This is a complete lie. But he can't tell her the truth, and he never will be able to. And sometimes, people just accept lies with less conviction than the truth.

His steps are fast. He is sprinting, trying to get home in time. The last rays of sunset fading, he knows he is cutting it very close. But it hasn't set yet. He will make it home. He has to make it, or there will be a few less people in the world.

Throwing the door open, rushing up the stairs. Nobody says anything. They are used to this routine. But like her, they don't actually know what is going on behind his closed door. And sometimes, when he has a pocket of brief calm, he wonders if they even really care.

Door slamming, last ray of sunset fading from the wall. He snorts. Who is he to think that his DAYS are chaotic? He's been lying to himself again. But he doesn't care, because lying is easy. Lying to himself is even easier.

With shaking hands, he locks the door. It is starting.

Harsh quiet, deathly silence. A scream tears from his throat and he is ripped out of his own body. Footsteps on the stairs, pounding on the door. He can't move. Can't control. Because he's dead, and his body won't move for him. Or anyone else. Now it is just him and that quiet. Silence...

Rather confusing story, no? Since it may be a little hard for you to understand, his "death" is actually his Hollow taking over. But since he doesn't acknowledge his Hollow as a person (because technically they are the same person), he looks at this as death.

Can be anyone with an inner Hollow, really.

Based off the questions: "What's it like to be paralyzed? What's it like to see through dead eyes?"

Thanks for reading this!!!!!