Thirty-nine seconds...
Thirty-eight seconds…
Thirty-seven seconds…
The blond sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose as he tries to keep himself busy for the remainder of the school day. His students, usually boisterous and talkative, are busily scribbling over sheets of paper. Their pencils make quick scritch-scratch noises, a pleasurable experience of sight and sound that usually makes Kunikida smile in relief, but right now, he wants nothing more than to cut the examination short and leave.
Kunikida glances again at the clock that rests on the wall.
Five seconds…
Four seconds…
He drums his fingers on his desk, the sound sharp and erratic even to his ears.
Finally, Kunikida relaxes.
His jaws unclench, fingers fold neatly on top of his paperwork, and his posture straightens.
"Examination over. Place your tests onto my desk neatly," he stresses, "into one designated pile. You are all dismissed."
Zero seconds…
Reset?