Misha was taking her sweet time walking to the Student Council office. A hundred different outcomes were trying to force their way past her eyes as she walked.
Maybe they got together? Maybe Shizune brushed her off, and they tried to still be friends? Maybe things would slowly come apart?
Maybe she'd get upset?
Misha stopped. Just what would she do without Shizune? Even if they didn't fight over this, just what would she do?
"I don't know." She stopped to place the voice. It was hers. It kept going, "But anything is better than this. 'This' isn't really anything. I need to do this." She kept walking.
Her footsteps started out loud, echoing down the halls, before getting smaller and quieter when she got closer, like people stifling their gossiping as the accused to be hanged was marched by them. Every door window was an eye following her, even when she saw no faces in them. It didn't feel like a hallway, more like a long concrete box she was trapped in, six feet underground, the sun no where to be seen.
She finally reached the door. She'd be there on the other side. Misha didn't know if she was going to be able bear those deep blue eyes.
She reached her hand towards the door handle, but only rested her fingers on it.
There were voices on the other side, and both were pretty heated. The door was pretty thick, and even though Misha couldn't tell what was being said, she could feel the aggression in both of those voices.
She leaned forward and put her ear to the crack in the door. She recognized one voice immediately. It was Shizune's. She sounded like she was scolding someone. Maybe she found someone to help her? She giggled. She doubted it was a real Council member...
Shizune's voice.
It was Shizune's voice.
Misha stepped back from the door, looking less steady than a junkie relaxing on a nice bottle of cough syrup. It was the same exact voice Misha heard in her head whenever Shizune signed. The same. Exact. One.
She doubled over, her hands flying to her temples in a futile attempt to keep her mind from cracking open. Her knees knocked against one another as she waited for the nausea to pass.
When she was finally able to stand straight, she tried to think logically. Misha wasn't even sure if Shizune could even talk, and if she did, there was a good chance she wouldn't. Shizune always had a bit of a problem when it came to her not being able to control something, or worse, not master it. It would just be another thing that gave her discomfort, and she could probably easily discard it.
Misha smacked her own face. She needed to think logically, not cynically. It was probably just a coincidence. That's all. Nothing to be concerned about, no need to be paranoid.
She only pushed the door open a crack, and peeked in.
So much for the power of positive thinking.
There were only two people in the office. One of them was Shizune, standing in front of her desk, her arms crossed and body rigid, her eyes slicing through the air like knives towards the other party in the room, Mutou, who looked bored.
The Council room was a bit cluttered, with various books thrown open over tables, papers everywhere, and even some building supplies stacked in small and not so neat piles. Other than that, it didn't look so different. Well, Shizune seemed to have brought in some large potted plants at some point. They looked rather heavy, but Misha wasn't so worried about how she got them in there, she was just sort of concerned that two were on either side of Mutou, had vines that spilled out of them and wrapped around each of his limbs, and were holding him about five feet in the air. And he still looked bored, even as he said, "I reckon you just need to take a few breaths, calm down, and then we start over."
Just another day in the life of Sheriff Mutou.
Shizune gnashed her teeth, and spoke, perfectly too, "There's nothing to start. If there was, I wouldn't want to. Just give me one good goddamn reason as to why I would want to in the first place!" She pointed an accusing finger at him, "Just what were you before this week? A miserable little pile of scientific trivia! I've had enough talk, so either release Misha or I shall have to resort to...," her expression darkened, "unsavory tactics."
Mutou sighed, "Lookie here, little SeƱorita, I've already been married once. I seriously doubt a pint-sized, four-eyed, sheltered little eighteen year-old with a God complex is going to make me squirm. Plant monsters notwithstanding."
Shizune's hands balled up into fists, and she had her arms straight down her sides. She leaned forward in a menacing way, her teeth bared, "I'll split you like a banana! I'll make a feast for the rats out of you!"
Mutou narrowed his eyes, and gave her a snarl that could rival Clint's, "No child left behind."
Shizune let a frustrated yell loose, then walked over to another plant that flanked her desk. She snapped a twig off of it, then looked as if she was concentrating. The twig then became less rigid, flopping to the ground like a rope, and it grew longer. Shizune then strode over to Mutou, brandishing the branch like a whip. She lashed it at him, and the very edge struck him in the dead center of his forehead, leaving a strange red mark.
Then, what do you know, he suddenly split like a banana.
The skin just peeled away from him, and his muscles followed. The vines at his limbs let go, and what was left plopped onto the floor in a mushy red pile, all still draped in his trademark coat.
Shizune leaned back into a peel of shrieking laughter. As she did, all the file cabinets in the room began to shake. It was a little at first, but it grew, and grew, and grew until the doors on them were snapping open and shut, as if something were trying to escape.
Shizune was doubled over, the last of her laughter escaping from her stomach, and she picked her head up, an evil smirk smeared across her face. Still bent over, she stretched out her arms to her side, and whispered, "Yes."
"Take him."
The cabinet doors were flung open, and the drawers were slammed out as far as they could. An insane amount of rats began to pour from them, making each cabinet look like a demented fountain. The gushing tide of them rushed to Mutou's remains, their excited squeaks feeling like needles sticking your ear drums.
Misha quietly pushed the door closed, and started to stagger back to her dorm room.
