Ch.6: Feathers
I'm not quite sure how I got through that weekend. I remember leaving dumbly, and turned down every phone call from Gon as an invitation to go over to his house and play video games (we had become pretty good friends, considering it had barely been a week before we had plotted to throttle Kurapika.of course, even more dramatic was the change of heart we had for our Green teacher - we could say that with affection now). I wasn't quite sure what I would do, or say, if I went over. Gon was.open. And he'd notice and ask what was wrong - he's not blind as people see him as. I wasn't sure what I would do when I went back to school on Monday. Just the thought of it made me sick, facing both students and Kuroro. I knew that I was to blame. If only I'd been a little faster, move a little quicker.
Needless to say, I spent the entire last weekend before the rest of the summer either lying facedown on my bed or at my desk writing apology note after apology note. "I know this won't help anything but I just want to say I'm sorry.", I scribbled, then stared at the paper and tore it angrily from my notebook. That sounded like a line out of some romance novel. I sounded like I was some infatuated lover or something. The thought made me stop. Kuroro was a teacher, and he was the only person I might be able to face and not cringe, even though I'd failed him too. But Kurapika, he was so close to my heart now that it was amazing he'd gotten this far in just a week - it felt like I could be tortured a thousand years for the price of one week of friendship and never completely repay him. I could only imagine where he was now, but something, something kept me from seeing him, to actually pick up the phone and look up his number in the directory. I didn't have the nerve. What was I seeking?
I was seeking the courage I lacked. I was afraid of the consequences, again, if I stepped over these Colored borders outside of our little haven of C-12B, what would happen to me? I would be apprehended, sent to juvenile hall, and I didn't want to go there and suffer what Kurapika had to suffer. It was selfish, shameful, but I couldn't do it. Outside the classroom that was Heaven and Kurapika as our Divine Teacher, the skies seemed cold and the future seemed black. But looking beside me, I could see that Kurapika's future looked even bleaker than mine. So why was I hesitating? He had shown me a glimpse of a world before, a world where we WEREN'T SEPARATED by what we were born into, but rather by the content of our character and the boundless intellect that everyone had inside of them. I could only imagine how far Kurapika would have gone if this had not been a world of unnecessary boundaries. He would be hailed as a president of history, a genius in every field that had ever been developed.but this accused system, this was what was holding all of us back! We were individuals - we couldn't be clumped together like nasty weeds for Death to pick! This was the only life we had, so why weren't we using it to our complete extent? Why was this system restraining us? Why couldn't anyone else see that it was horribly, terribly, catastrophically wrong?
Think, I struggled to tell my fleeing self, think of the history he has told me, and imagine what he is when the violin is in his hands! Raise that scarlet bow, like a flag of rebellion, no matter how sheltered it is now, and raise it high! What was I waiting for? I MUST SAVE HIM. I saved him once, and nothing would stop me again!. And with that conviction, my trembling hands found the phone, and dialed in the number. One ring sounded. I tensed, and told myself that this proved nothing yet. Kurapika could just be out, buying groceries, or maybe he was with Kuroro somewhere. There was no need to frenzy just yet. The second ring. I closed my eyes as the flutterings of panic began to rise like a million monarch butterflies, and unbidden, images began to spring up, one more fearful than the other. What if he had been arrested? What if he was in jail, where he had been before amidst its four walls? What if the person I'd seen decided to take things into his own hands and Kurapika was. . . dead?
Third ring. Visibly I jumped up in my chair. The hand that clutched the telephone began to sweat. My other hand began to tap frantically on the table, and my feet led me across the room and back again. Where was Kurapika? It was a mix of two factors, now: what happened to Kurapika, and also what would happen to me if whoever it was decided to report me as well? Pick up, pick up!, I urged the phone on the other end. Absently I checked the phone number even though I knew I would be right on it. And then, the short fourth ring and I could feel my heart plummet to my feet. No one picked it up. The phone clicked dead, and on my side I dropped the phone and it shattered on the kitchen tiles. My worse fears were confirmed. "Guilty", sang the chorus of angels to me on Judgment Day.
And suddenly I couldn't wait for Monday. I HAD to know what happened. I had to be sure that it wasn't too LATE. Grabbing the directory, I swept through the teacher addresses and memorized it in an instant. My feet flew down the streets, past downtown, towards Yorkshire University - it figured that Kurapika would probably live near there, wouldn't he? - and minutes seemed to pass like excruciating painful hours. "Stay away from me!", I tried to yell to the people I brushed past, and I paid no mind to the armbands on their faces or whatever idiot Violet was stupid enough to get in my way. One Violet actually tried to grab onto my arm when he saw what I'd done to push his friend into a wall, and I gave an absent backhand to whoever it was. I was in a HURRY, didn't those idiot people understand? I didn't stop to ask for directions - it was as if something led me. My mind seemed to become separate from my body, being able to think frantic thoughts while still keeping a rational mind. Somehow, I found the building to his apartment, and I clattered up the stairs, intent on making as much noise as I could. If you're there, Kurapika, silently I urged, and I prepared to face the worst as I neared the third floor, wait for me!. I opened the door out of the stairways and stopped. Left and right I looked. At the end of the hall, a door was open.
And suddenly, I got that dreaded feeling that when I got to that door, Kurapika would be gone. Dragging my feet to the threshold, I beheld the sight that was within and try as I might, I couldn't block it from my mind even as I closed my eyes.
The room had literally been torn apart, ripped to shreds, whatever you care to call it. What had once been a coffee table had been cracked straight through the middle, and from the splinters I could see someone had been slammed into it. It was jammed straight into the couch, where feathers gave sort of an ironic Heaven touch to the whole place. Paper was everywhere, on the floor, on the bookshelves, under my feet and under the halves of the door that I had stepped into. As I moved my feet away and picked up a few that had fallen together, I could see they were music, probably the music that was forbidden to be played. And as I thought about it, I realized that the whole world was infatuated with the Color system, this way that divided the people into curt little sections. What about the police? Where THEY color-coded as well? Where Green police not allowed to stick their noses into Violet cases? Were Violets paid to laugh when the Greens got themselves massacred? The music I heard on the radio every day - those were Azure channels. Never once did I think of listening to a Green channel, or a Yellow channel. Naturally, I thought all of those were inferior. I wasn't part of the 'in' anymore, the ones who did things dumbly. I would do my own thing, like Kurapika. And with that determination, I began to pick up the paper, stacking them carefully. I'd take them to the University later, I decided. Carefully I moved the coffee table away from the couch and hissed in pain as a splinter went up my thumb. Picking it out carefully, I threw it aside and struggled to drag the rug from under the table when there came a tingle that told me I wasn't alone.
Whipping around, I faced the barrel of a gun. Very freaked out, I gave a step backward, coupled with a yelp as I fell over the side of the sofa. After a moment of assuring myself that I was still alive and nothing sharp had stuck me in the back or anything, I gave a groan as little fairy lights began to take over my vision for a few seconds. That HURT. I blinked and the little stars disappeared to replaced by a rather worried face over me. Unceremoniously, I gave an "Uhhnnn?" and the face above me crinkled into a customary smile and two hands helped me up. I was relieved to see that the gun was now in his back pocket instead of in his hand. It figured that Kuroro would be here, though. Absently I wondered why he had a gun.
"Just for protection", he cheerfully answered my unspoken question (was he some kinda telepath?), seemingly unaware of the carnage around us. His eyes turned a little duller, seeming to focus in around him a little more. His hands fingered the fluffy couch (more like a featherbed) under us, and found a feather. He cupped it in his hands and then blew it out of his hands. It gave a little twirl, just to say hello, and then landed primly on the top of broken table before blowing over. I stared a little wistfully at the little white feather that now lay at the bottom of a chasm, and thought that it was just like Kurapika.
The rest of the afternoon passed in relative silence. Gradually I got an idea of what Kurapika's little apartment should have looked like. Tidied, it looked very much as a teacher's room would have looked like. A closer look provided me with what looked like to be his family, maybe before his father's divorce and his mother's death. Maybe that wasn't even true - maybe they just put it in the textbook to make him look bad. He was such an enigma, and yet I felt he was somehow close to me. As much as he was a Green teacher to me and all the rest of the students in C-12B for most of the year, he had somehow crept into our hearts anyway. He was so surprising. I didn't know anything about him, and yet I CARED.
When we were done, Kuroro ordered pizza or something and we ate on the not-broken dinner table. The delivery boy took one look at the split door and opened his mouth to ask, then his watery eyes darted to the violet armband on Kuroro and declined to comment. It proved just how influential Kuroro could be without even trying.
As we ate dinner, I chanced to ask, "So where's he now?" I didn't have to clarify who 'he' was.
Kuroro just looked at me and didn't say anything.
/ \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \
Author's notes:
This is NOT the end. No, it ain't. But anyways, YAY! I spent two nights trying to wonder what to do, but I got it down today, and I'm quite pleased with it. Not as good as Ch.15 on "Golden Boy", though. . .it's okay. Just a warning, the next few chapters will be in Kurapika's POV. No more Killua, though I'll switch back soon. Doncha worry, Kurapika won't die. At least, I don't think he will. * snickers wickedly * Oooh, how I LOVE torturing characters.sorry, got off track. Anyways, the next few chapters will be a sort of recollection of Kurapika's life. As I said before, it will be in Kurapika's POV. Okay, see ya!
Andrea Weiling
I'm not quite sure how I got through that weekend. I remember leaving dumbly, and turned down every phone call from Gon as an invitation to go over to his house and play video games (we had become pretty good friends, considering it had barely been a week before we had plotted to throttle Kurapika.of course, even more dramatic was the change of heart we had for our Green teacher - we could say that with affection now). I wasn't quite sure what I would do, or say, if I went over. Gon was.open. And he'd notice and ask what was wrong - he's not blind as people see him as. I wasn't sure what I would do when I went back to school on Monday. Just the thought of it made me sick, facing both students and Kuroro. I knew that I was to blame. If only I'd been a little faster, move a little quicker.
Needless to say, I spent the entire last weekend before the rest of the summer either lying facedown on my bed or at my desk writing apology note after apology note. "I know this won't help anything but I just want to say I'm sorry.", I scribbled, then stared at the paper and tore it angrily from my notebook. That sounded like a line out of some romance novel. I sounded like I was some infatuated lover or something. The thought made me stop. Kuroro was a teacher, and he was the only person I might be able to face and not cringe, even though I'd failed him too. But Kurapika, he was so close to my heart now that it was amazing he'd gotten this far in just a week - it felt like I could be tortured a thousand years for the price of one week of friendship and never completely repay him. I could only imagine where he was now, but something, something kept me from seeing him, to actually pick up the phone and look up his number in the directory. I didn't have the nerve. What was I seeking?
I was seeking the courage I lacked. I was afraid of the consequences, again, if I stepped over these Colored borders outside of our little haven of C-12B, what would happen to me? I would be apprehended, sent to juvenile hall, and I didn't want to go there and suffer what Kurapika had to suffer. It was selfish, shameful, but I couldn't do it. Outside the classroom that was Heaven and Kurapika as our Divine Teacher, the skies seemed cold and the future seemed black. But looking beside me, I could see that Kurapika's future looked even bleaker than mine. So why was I hesitating? He had shown me a glimpse of a world before, a world where we WEREN'T SEPARATED by what we were born into, but rather by the content of our character and the boundless intellect that everyone had inside of them. I could only imagine how far Kurapika would have gone if this had not been a world of unnecessary boundaries. He would be hailed as a president of history, a genius in every field that had ever been developed.but this accused system, this was what was holding all of us back! We were individuals - we couldn't be clumped together like nasty weeds for Death to pick! This was the only life we had, so why weren't we using it to our complete extent? Why was this system restraining us? Why couldn't anyone else see that it was horribly, terribly, catastrophically wrong?
Think, I struggled to tell my fleeing self, think of the history he has told me, and imagine what he is when the violin is in his hands! Raise that scarlet bow, like a flag of rebellion, no matter how sheltered it is now, and raise it high! What was I waiting for? I MUST SAVE HIM. I saved him once, and nothing would stop me again!. And with that conviction, my trembling hands found the phone, and dialed in the number. One ring sounded. I tensed, and told myself that this proved nothing yet. Kurapika could just be out, buying groceries, or maybe he was with Kuroro somewhere. There was no need to frenzy just yet. The second ring. I closed my eyes as the flutterings of panic began to rise like a million monarch butterflies, and unbidden, images began to spring up, one more fearful than the other. What if he had been arrested? What if he was in jail, where he had been before amidst its four walls? What if the person I'd seen decided to take things into his own hands and Kurapika was. . . dead?
Third ring. Visibly I jumped up in my chair. The hand that clutched the telephone began to sweat. My other hand began to tap frantically on the table, and my feet led me across the room and back again. Where was Kurapika? It was a mix of two factors, now: what happened to Kurapika, and also what would happen to me if whoever it was decided to report me as well? Pick up, pick up!, I urged the phone on the other end. Absently I checked the phone number even though I knew I would be right on it. And then, the short fourth ring and I could feel my heart plummet to my feet. No one picked it up. The phone clicked dead, and on my side I dropped the phone and it shattered on the kitchen tiles. My worse fears were confirmed. "Guilty", sang the chorus of angels to me on Judgment Day.
And suddenly I couldn't wait for Monday. I HAD to know what happened. I had to be sure that it wasn't too LATE. Grabbing the directory, I swept through the teacher addresses and memorized it in an instant. My feet flew down the streets, past downtown, towards Yorkshire University - it figured that Kurapika would probably live near there, wouldn't he? - and minutes seemed to pass like excruciating painful hours. "Stay away from me!", I tried to yell to the people I brushed past, and I paid no mind to the armbands on their faces or whatever idiot Violet was stupid enough to get in my way. One Violet actually tried to grab onto my arm when he saw what I'd done to push his friend into a wall, and I gave an absent backhand to whoever it was. I was in a HURRY, didn't those idiot people understand? I didn't stop to ask for directions - it was as if something led me. My mind seemed to become separate from my body, being able to think frantic thoughts while still keeping a rational mind. Somehow, I found the building to his apartment, and I clattered up the stairs, intent on making as much noise as I could. If you're there, Kurapika, silently I urged, and I prepared to face the worst as I neared the third floor, wait for me!. I opened the door out of the stairways and stopped. Left and right I looked. At the end of the hall, a door was open.
And suddenly, I got that dreaded feeling that when I got to that door, Kurapika would be gone. Dragging my feet to the threshold, I beheld the sight that was within and try as I might, I couldn't block it from my mind even as I closed my eyes.
The room had literally been torn apart, ripped to shreds, whatever you care to call it. What had once been a coffee table had been cracked straight through the middle, and from the splinters I could see someone had been slammed into it. It was jammed straight into the couch, where feathers gave sort of an ironic Heaven touch to the whole place. Paper was everywhere, on the floor, on the bookshelves, under my feet and under the halves of the door that I had stepped into. As I moved my feet away and picked up a few that had fallen together, I could see they were music, probably the music that was forbidden to be played. And as I thought about it, I realized that the whole world was infatuated with the Color system, this way that divided the people into curt little sections. What about the police? Where THEY color-coded as well? Where Green police not allowed to stick their noses into Violet cases? Were Violets paid to laugh when the Greens got themselves massacred? The music I heard on the radio every day - those were Azure channels. Never once did I think of listening to a Green channel, or a Yellow channel. Naturally, I thought all of those were inferior. I wasn't part of the 'in' anymore, the ones who did things dumbly. I would do my own thing, like Kurapika. And with that determination, I began to pick up the paper, stacking them carefully. I'd take them to the University later, I decided. Carefully I moved the coffee table away from the couch and hissed in pain as a splinter went up my thumb. Picking it out carefully, I threw it aside and struggled to drag the rug from under the table when there came a tingle that told me I wasn't alone.
Whipping around, I faced the barrel of a gun. Very freaked out, I gave a step backward, coupled with a yelp as I fell over the side of the sofa. After a moment of assuring myself that I was still alive and nothing sharp had stuck me in the back or anything, I gave a groan as little fairy lights began to take over my vision for a few seconds. That HURT. I blinked and the little stars disappeared to replaced by a rather worried face over me. Unceremoniously, I gave an "Uhhnnn?" and the face above me crinkled into a customary smile and two hands helped me up. I was relieved to see that the gun was now in his back pocket instead of in his hand. It figured that Kuroro would be here, though. Absently I wondered why he had a gun.
"Just for protection", he cheerfully answered my unspoken question (was he some kinda telepath?), seemingly unaware of the carnage around us. His eyes turned a little duller, seeming to focus in around him a little more. His hands fingered the fluffy couch (more like a featherbed) under us, and found a feather. He cupped it in his hands and then blew it out of his hands. It gave a little twirl, just to say hello, and then landed primly on the top of broken table before blowing over. I stared a little wistfully at the little white feather that now lay at the bottom of a chasm, and thought that it was just like Kurapika.
The rest of the afternoon passed in relative silence. Gradually I got an idea of what Kurapika's little apartment should have looked like. Tidied, it looked very much as a teacher's room would have looked like. A closer look provided me with what looked like to be his family, maybe before his father's divorce and his mother's death. Maybe that wasn't even true - maybe they just put it in the textbook to make him look bad. He was such an enigma, and yet I felt he was somehow close to me. As much as he was a Green teacher to me and all the rest of the students in C-12B for most of the year, he had somehow crept into our hearts anyway. He was so surprising. I didn't know anything about him, and yet I CARED.
When we were done, Kuroro ordered pizza or something and we ate on the not-broken dinner table. The delivery boy took one look at the split door and opened his mouth to ask, then his watery eyes darted to the violet armband on Kuroro and declined to comment. It proved just how influential Kuroro could be without even trying.
As we ate dinner, I chanced to ask, "So where's he now?" I didn't have to clarify who 'he' was.
Kuroro just looked at me and didn't say anything.
/ \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \
Author's notes:
This is NOT the end. No, it ain't. But anyways, YAY! I spent two nights trying to wonder what to do, but I got it down today, and I'm quite pleased with it. Not as good as Ch.15 on "Golden Boy", though. . .it's okay. Just a warning, the next few chapters will be in Kurapika's POV. No more Killua, though I'll switch back soon. Doncha worry, Kurapika won't die. At least, I don't think he will. * snickers wickedly * Oooh, how I LOVE torturing characters.sorry, got off track. Anyways, the next few chapters will be a sort of recollection of Kurapika's life. As I said before, it will be in Kurapika's POV. Okay, see ya!
Andrea Weiling