Ch.4: Defy
The Monday we came back, Kurapika was not in class. All of wondered where he was. Rumors buzzed around school; Kurapika had never missed a day before, so why did he now? But all of shrugged it off. After all, our Green teacher could always have some other thing on his mind, maybe visiting some grave or paying some bill or seeing some other person. By afternoon, the excitement had pretty much died off, and students were once again talking about their own teachers. I could tell, by some of the expressions on my classmates' faces, that they were glad the school's attention wasn't focused anymore on Kurapika, but on regular schoolwork. I knew all of us had that distinct feeling that something was wrong.
But I guess we shouldn't have worried. The next day Kurapika was back. And though all of us were burning with curiosity about just where he was, he seemed even more detached (and more strict) than ever. Ubogin suggested that maybe we should "beat it out of him", but Pakunoda just told him that that would be giving into whatever gossip and rumors were circling above the school now. Today was like any other day. The first period passed with flying paper and straws firing spitballs, but Kurapika seemed to mind it not with detachment, but with an odd sense of not quite all being there. It became apparent that his mind was somewhere else, perhaps on whatever had happened yesterday that made him miss class.
His voice faltered. Slowly, the marker in his hand slipped and fell. He propped the history textbook on the shelf before he collapsed completely with a very dead sound. For a moment, no one moved. Then something, something came up inside of me, and for a moment all I could see was the sight of him, leaning over me, his eyes flickering over to the blue armband on my arm, then sighing and moving away. He didn't give me a punishment. It became clear to me, now. HE DIDN'T GIVE ME A PUNISHMENT THAT DAY BECAUSE I WAS AN AZURE. It may have been the only NonColor place in the world, but he believed, in that moment, that he was still in the outside world, unable to move a finger against me. And even though he should have given me a punishment, he felt I would never, ever understand what he did, his inspiration, the house with the shutters open and the rooms filled with light – he felt I would never see, never feel that LIFT of freedom.
I lifted myself out of the desk, tearing the lock apart in the process. I threw the offending door into the wall and ran down the aisle, regardless of the eyes that followed me. My mind whirled with insane thoughts. I was going to help a Green. I was going to be arrested, I was going to be detained, I was going to go to juvenile hall and stay in its gloomy halls forever and ever and ever and I was never going get out. But that didn't seem to matter. Screw the Color System. Screw General Marks. Screw the class and all the witnesses. It didn't matter if I was committing a heinous act of defiance against this society that had raised me so high. I was going to help someone, and that was all that mattered. And as I ran knelt to lift Kurapika, I felt the strength of a million rebel hands helping me.
Turning him over, I first checked his pulse. It was quick, beating fast like a rabbit's. My eyes darted to the release button at the desk and I slammed my palm down on it. "Shizuku", I commanded, and pointed quickly to the door. "Get Kuroro. NOW." The girl nodded and hurried down the hall. The class crowded around me, but all of them seemed incapable of helping. It occurred to me that they were just like me, once, afraid of the consequences. But I wasn't afraid anymore, even though my blood rushed on a sugar high and my heart pounded in my ears like a scarlet drum. I snarled at them, and a few of them knelt as well. Several of the others moved towards the phone to call the nurse's office, but Ubogin warded them away. Mentally I congratulated his common sense; let Kuroro take care of this first. The others, kneeling, stopped, their hands hovering over Kurapika's prone form, unsure of what to do. Their actions annoyed me. Why were they afraid of doing something right? THIS WAS OUR TEACHER. That day we went to the University, we saw the real side of him, the side of him that flew over our heads in understanding. He may not have been kind, but he had been right. That was enough for me to help him.
Hands lifted him over. Shalnark took one of the teacher's hands in his and rubbed the back of it slowly, as if it would coax consciousness back. Kuroro came in, softly, Shizuku following. The crowd parted like the Red Sea before Moses. Slowly he knelt and picked the twenty-year-old blonde up in his arms like a baby, and made his way out of the room. I trailed behind him, and my voice caught in my throat. What was I trying to say? Was it that I had forgotten what was on my mind? I felt heartbroken, the feeling of a love taken away. The love of a teacher, I thought. Kurapika was being taken away. For how long I didn't know. And that was what made me sad, made me wonder when, if ever, Kurapika would awaken. I wondered how much he had hidden from us – how hard he had worked. A teacher was supposed to be close to his students, to understand each and every one of the individuals in his class. But this Color system didn't provide the room for it. It separated us, divided us. I knew now that was wrong. He tried his best to be our teacher, I realized. But the reason we never saw that white mansion, that light from his eyes was because we didn't let him. He knew we wouldn't understand what it was to truly free from the constrains of our society. Only when we saw him, the bending violin his hands, singing, whispering, speaking to us, telling us that we did not know freedom, that we did not know what we truly were until we got rid of these colors, until these extra, unnecessary differences were put away in a box and locked up and the key thrown away. HE had not pushed us away, we never gave him a chance. We thought that was right. We thought that because everyone else thought it was right.
I wasn't sure how, that evening, all of us managed to gather all at the same time at the hospital he was kept at. Kuroro was already there, holding his hand like Shalnark had done, sometimes bringing it to his forehead as if the mere touch would tell Kurapika his very thoughts. It seemed, one by one, the room he was kept in was filling up with people. Some brought flowers, and cards. His University students (Kuroro must have contacted them) came in too, bringing gifts. One brought his violin, and propped his beloved instrument by his pillow so his inspiration would always be in easy reach. The little table nearby filled up with gifts. And as they went out, I found myself stopping each of them, telling them that I was happy Kurapika had so many people who understood him, who took it upon themselves to come and see him, to make him happy. I didn't care if they were Yellow or Green or whatever Color they were; they were people who saw Kurapika as he really was. None of them looked at the Blue on my arm. I was surprised when some eyes filled up with tears at my thanks. I found a girl, the girl who brought the violin, kneeling down in front of me. She took my hands like they belonged to a sacred saint, and brought them to her lips, saying, "Bless you, little one, for being here." I found myself crying after that.
The little female teacher, the Winds teacher, came in a little late, after most of the people had left. She lifted the flute to her lips and out played a breezy song, lifting upwards and downwards, spiraling like birds in the sky. It dried my tears. It seemed to command the very elements. When the music turned low, the lights paled, and when the music lifted into chorus, the sun glinted brightly off of Kurapika's head of golden hair. Everyone in who came in that room wished Kurapika's eyes were open again. In a way we didn't quite comprehend, he had touched us all.
I wasn't sure who or what brought me home and back to school again. All day, the class was taught by a wrinkly old woman who taught the class in a commandeering way. All of us wanted Kurapika back. None of us had noticed just how his voice lifted and lowered in the ups and downs in speech that he had seemed to master, like his music. This woman didn't know anything. She didn't UNDERSTAND like Kurapika did. And when she looked at the list Kuroro provided as the lesson plan in lieu of Kurapika's absence, she sniffed and said haughtily, "Why, your teacher's just a GREEN" in a very obnoxious voice. Everyone the class got detentions for the last week of school that we had left. The reason was simple: every desk lock in the room was broken, and every piece of paper was used to throw at the offending wrinkly THING that was just standing there. She looked like she had been painted red, a target. We tormented her until Kuroro came in and told us to stop. However, when she retreated with a huff, he gave us all a wry smile, telling us without words that that lady should have seen that one coming. The rest of that day and the next were all taught by Kuroro, who combined the two classes and taught then in the multipurpose room. He left our desks unlocked.
And for the first time in our lives, we took off our armbands in public and donned white pieces of cloth instead. Kuroro handed them out wordlessly. His class already had theirs. When you asked any of them where they wanted to go after high school, all of them answered, "Lomas. Definitely."
And that day, Ubogin and his little gang refrained from beating up people. Under Kuroro's watchful eye, they read Oscar Wilde's "The Importance of Being Ernest" as diligently as Shizuku and Shalnark and did their math problems as correctly as C-12D. There was more to this Color society than we could ever have imagined. It tore people apart when they could have been friends. It separated people when they were family. And it made people hate each other. All of this became clearly wrong to us that day. We all saw the world from Kuroro's point of view that day: respecting the Color system but not agreeing with it. We all found ourselves in Kurapika's shoes that day, and vowed we would never treat him like a Green again.
And then the next day, Kurapika awoke, and told us that he was glad to see us. All of us wanted to hold his hand. I don't believe there was a dry eye that day. And when we saw him, he smiled, and the white mansion with Heaven's light under the door beckoning, was apparent in his face.
The Monday we came back, Kurapika was not in class. All of wondered where he was. Rumors buzzed around school; Kurapika had never missed a day before, so why did he now? But all of shrugged it off. After all, our Green teacher could always have some other thing on his mind, maybe visiting some grave or paying some bill or seeing some other person. By afternoon, the excitement had pretty much died off, and students were once again talking about their own teachers. I could tell, by some of the expressions on my classmates' faces, that they were glad the school's attention wasn't focused anymore on Kurapika, but on regular schoolwork. I knew all of us had that distinct feeling that something was wrong.
But I guess we shouldn't have worried. The next day Kurapika was back. And though all of us were burning with curiosity about just where he was, he seemed even more detached (and more strict) than ever. Ubogin suggested that maybe we should "beat it out of him", but Pakunoda just told him that that would be giving into whatever gossip and rumors were circling above the school now. Today was like any other day. The first period passed with flying paper and straws firing spitballs, but Kurapika seemed to mind it not with detachment, but with an odd sense of not quite all being there. It became apparent that his mind was somewhere else, perhaps on whatever had happened yesterday that made him miss class.
His voice faltered. Slowly, the marker in his hand slipped and fell. He propped the history textbook on the shelf before he collapsed completely with a very dead sound. For a moment, no one moved. Then something, something came up inside of me, and for a moment all I could see was the sight of him, leaning over me, his eyes flickering over to the blue armband on my arm, then sighing and moving away. He didn't give me a punishment. It became clear to me, now. HE DIDN'T GIVE ME A PUNISHMENT THAT DAY BECAUSE I WAS AN AZURE. It may have been the only NonColor place in the world, but he believed, in that moment, that he was still in the outside world, unable to move a finger against me. And even though he should have given me a punishment, he felt I would never, ever understand what he did, his inspiration, the house with the shutters open and the rooms filled with light – he felt I would never see, never feel that LIFT of freedom.
I lifted myself out of the desk, tearing the lock apart in the process. I threw the offending door into the wall and ran down the aisle, regardless of the eyes that followed me. My mind whirled with insane thoughts. I was going to help a Green. I was going to be arrested, I was going to be detained, I was going to go to juvenile hall and stay in its gloomy halls forever and ever and ever and I was never going get out. But that didn't seem to matter. Screw the Color System. Screw General Marks. Screw the class and all the witnesses. It didn't matter if I was committing a heinous act of defiance against this society that had raised me so high. I was going to help someone, and that was all that mattered. And as I ran knelt to lift Kurapika, I felt the strength of a million rebel hands helping me.
Turning him over, I first checked his pulse. It was quick, beating fast like a rabbit's. My eyes darted to the release button at the desk and I slammed my palm down on it. "Shizuku", I commanded, and pointed quickly to the door. "Get Kuroro. NOW." The girl nodded and hurried down the hall. The class crowded around me, but all of them seemed incapable of helping. It occurred to me that they were just like me, once, afraid of the consequences. But I wasn't afraid anymore, even though my blood rushed on a sugar high and my heart pounded in my ears like a scarlet drum. I snarled at them, and a few of them knelt as well. Several of the others moved towards the phone to call the nurse's office, but Ubogin warded them away. Mentally I congratulated his common sense; let Kuroro take care of this first. The others, kneeling, stopped, their hands hovering over Kurapika's prone form, unsure of what to do. Their actions annoyed me. Why were they afraid of doing something right? THIS WAS OUR TEACHER. That day we went to the University, we saw the real side of him, the side of him that flew over our heads in understanding. He may not have been kind, but he had been right. That was enough for me to help him.
Hands lifted him over. Shalnark took one of the teacher's hands in his and rubbed the back of it slowly, as if it would coax consciousness back. Kuroro came in, softly, Shizuku following. The crowd parted like the Red Sea before Moses. Slowly he knelt and picked the twenty-year-old blonde up in his arms like a baby, and made his way out of the room. I trailed behind him, and my voice caught in my throat. What was I trying to say? Was it that I had forgotten what was on my mind? I felt heartbroken, the feeling of a love taken away. The love of a teacher, I thought. Kurapika was being taken away. For how long I didn't know. And that was what made me sad, made me wonder when, if ever, Kurapika would awaken. I wondered how much he had hidden from us – how hard he had worked. A teacher was supposed to be close to his students, to understand each and every one of the individuals in his class. But this Color system didn't provide the room for it. It separated us, divided us. I knew now that was wrong. He tried his best to be our teacher, I realized. But the reason we never saw that white mansion, that light from his eyes was because we didn't let him. He knew we wouldn't understand what it was to truly free from the constrains of our society. Only when we saw him, the bending violin his hands, singing, whispering, speaking to us, telling us that we did not know freedom, that we did not know what we truly were until we got rid of these colors, until these extra, unnecessary differences were put away in a box and locked up and the key thrown away. HE had not pushed us away, we never gave him a chance. We thought that was right. We thought that because everyone else thought it was right.
I wasn't sure how, that evening, all of us managed to gather all at the same time at the hospital he was kept at. Kuroro was already there, holding his hand like Shalnark had done, sometimes bringing it to his forehead as if the mere touch would tell Kurapika his very thoughts. It seemed, one by one, the room he was kept in was filling up with people. Some brought flowers, and cards. His University students (Kuroro must have contacted them) came in too, bringing gifts. One brought his violin, and propped his beloved instrument by his pillow so his inspiration would always be in easy reach. The little table nearby filled up with gifts. And as they went out, I found myself stopping each of them, telling them that I was happy Kurapika had so many people who understood him, who took it upon themselves to come and see him, to make him happy. I didn't care if they were Yellow or Green or whatever Color they were; they were people who saw Kurapika as he really was. None of them looked at the Blue on my arm. I was surprised when some eyes filled up with tears at my thanks. I found a girl, the girl who brought the violin, kneeling down in front of me. She took my hands like they belonged to a sacred saint, and brought them to her lips, saying, "Bless you, little one, for being here." I found myself crying after that.
The little female teacher, the Winds teacher, came in a little late, after most of the people had left. She lifted the flute to her lips and out played a breezy song, lifting upwards and downwards, spiraling like birds in the sky. It dried my tears. It seemed to command the very elements. When the music turned low, the lights paled, and when the music lifted into chorus, the sun glinted brightly off of Kurapika's head of golden hair. Everyone in who came in that room wished Kurapika's eyes were open again. In a way we didn't quite comprehend, he had touched us all.
I wasn't sure who or what brought me home and back to school again. All day, the class was taught by a wrinkly old woman who taught the class in a commandeering way. All of us wanted Kurapika back. None of us had noticed just how his voice lifted and lowered in the ups and downs in speech that he had seemed to master, like his music. This woman didn't know anything. She didn't UNDERSTAND like Kurapika did. And when she looked at the list Kuroro provided as the lesson plan in lieu of Kurapika's absence, she sniffed and said haughtily, "Why, your teacher's just a GREEN" in a very obnoxious voice. Everyone the class got detentions for the last week of school that we had left. The reason was simple: every desk lock in the room was broken, and every piece of paper was used to throw at the offending wrinkly THING that was just standing there. She looked like she had been painted red, a target. We tormented her until Kuroro came in and told us to stop. However, when she retreated with a huff, he gave us all a wry smile, telling us without words that that lady should have seen that one coming. The rest of that day and the next were all taught by Kuroro, who combined the two classes and taught then in the multipurpose room. He left our desks unlocked.
And for the first time in our lives, we took off our armbands in public and donned white pieces of cloth instead. Kuroro handed them out wordlessly. His class already had theirs. When you asked any of them where they wanted to go after high school, all of them answered, "Lomas. Definitely."
And that day, Ubogin and his little gang refrained from beating up people. Under Kuroro's watchful eye, they read Oscar Wilde's "The Importance of Being Ernest" as diligently as Shizuku and Shalnark and did their math problems as correctly as C-12D. There was more to this Color society than we could ever have imagined. It tore people apart when they could have been friends. It separated people when they were family. And it made people hate each other. All of this became clearly wrong to us that day. We all saw the world from Kuroro's point of view that day: respecting the Color system but not agreeing with it. We all found ourselves in Kurapika's shoes that day, and vowed we would never treat him like a Green again.
And then the next day, Kurapika awoke, and told us that he was glad to see us. All of us wanted to hold his hand. I don't believe there was a dry eye that day. And when we saw him, he smiled, and the white mansion with Heaven's light under the door beckoning, was apparent in his face.