The pallor girl in the restroom mirror stared at Fujiko, brows furrowed.
She needed to trust Miho. These appendages, she had been keeping them a secret from everyone for the past two years and it had been suffocating to bear this alone; it was maddening. If she was going to feel better about herself, then she needed to have faith in Miho and tell her about this. She had no one else. If she was going to bear this damn thing, at least she ought to trust Miho with this and hope for the best. Fujiko just hoped that she wasn't making a mistake of any sort. After all, the last thing she needed to deal with was losing her only friend.
"Okay, you can do this," Fujiko murmured. "You can do this."
The pallor girl washed and dried her face.
Stepping out of the girls' restroom, Fujiko found herself in the hallway during the lunch period. It hadn't been that long since it began, so there were still quite a few students out and about either hanging out or perusing the vending machines. Miho's class was on the other side of the school, so Fujiko wasted no time heading over there. Eventually, she spotted the Class 2-E sign just ahead.
Then the intercom buzzed to life. "Hanamura Fujiko, please report to the principal's office. Hanamura Fujiko, please report to the principal's office."
Fujiko froze. What? Why was she being called there? She didn't do anything wrong that she knew of. What could possibly be going on? Guess Miho will have to wait while she takes a look.
Turning away, Fujiko went to the stairwell and descended, ignoring the murmurs from the other students who saw her. They can never seem to help but make rumors and talk about others, though she supposed this was the result of living in a countryside town where almost everyone knows about each other, or at least each other's friends. When she reached the 1st floor, she went straight to the principal's office and knocked on the door.
"You may come in," said the principal.
Fujiko pushed the door open and stepped inside. Seriously, she wondered what could it be that she had to be called all the way down here.
Ms. Tanegawa, sitting in one of the chairs, turned to look at Fujiko with a look of disapproval.
Fujiko gasped and froze, her heart racing.
The principal gave her an unreadable look. "Please, sit down Ms. Hanamura."
Fujiko's breaths quickened. What was Ms. Tanegawa doing here and why? What did she do to have her here of all places? Fujiko forced herself to take a seat next to her, but she shied away from both of their gazes. What did they want to talk about?
"Do you know why you're here, Ms. Hanamura?" the principal said.
Fujiko shook her head. The man was never easy to read—a problem that just about every student who had met him in person also had. "N-No, I don't. Why?"
"There's something important we need to discuss," Ms. Tanegawa said with that terse and professional tone that never seemed to change. "Together."
Fujiko swallowed. "What's that?"
Ms. Tanegawa turned to her and stared into her eyes. "Fujiko, I'll cut to the chase. Aiko told me you've been sneaking cutting implements like the kitchen knife up into your room for a while; she said she's worried about you."
Fujiko blanched and felt her heart stopping. That bastard! That actual, piece of garbage told on her? Even after she made a deal with her to keep her mouth shut?! It's only been three weeks since she and Aiko struck that deal, and she's reneging on that already?! Argh, why did Aiko go back on her word now? She didn't hate her guts that much, did she? Or did she have a change of heart or something? What is going on?
"Yes, we take the mental health of our students very seriously," the principal said, nodding. "We ask you, Ms. Hanamura, to tell us what has been troubling you as of late."
Fujiko frowned. Could she really tell these two people about the condition she had?
"Before that," Ms. Tanegawa said as her gaze became stern. "I would like to first ask you, Fujiko, to cease taking those knives. I don't know why you've been taking them upstairs, but I would prefer it if you can stop that. As you know, they are fine chef's knives that need to be cared for, and I'm not sure how they dull so quickly, but whatever you are doing up there it is affecting the blade negatively."
Of course Ms. Tanegawa would care about that, she doesn't care about anything else!
"O-Okay," Fujiko murmured, still not looking at either of them. "But just so you know, I'm not hurting myself if that's what you're thinking," she lied—though technically she hadn't been successful in hurting herself despite her best efforts. She even rolled up her sleeves and socks and showed there were no scars anywhere on her wrists, arms, legs, and ankles. "I'm okay. I just, well, I-I like playing with the knives, I kinda pretend I'm a samurai with them. I do kinda go overboard though, s-sorry."
Ms. Tanegawa and the principal exchanged a look.
Please buy it, please buy it, please buy it…
"Huh, Aiko told me you might've been hurting yourself," Ms. Tanegawa said, looking down in thought. "I don't see any scars anywhere though. You do seem fine to me, physically."
The principal hummed. "Hmm, you're right, Ms. Hanamura does seem fine at least."
"So why does Aiko know about this then?" Ms. Tanegawa said, her voice becoming stern. "Why did you tell her and kept this a secret from me?"
Fujiko scowled. "B-Because she caught me putting the knife back in its holder one night and I told her I'd do her homework for a month if she kept quiet."
"All so you can enact these fantasies of yours with my knives?!" Ms. Tanegawa yelled, shooting up.
Fujiko's scowl disappeared. At least they don't suspect her of any more than that. "I-I guess. S-Sorry, Ms. Tanegawa."
"Unbelievable, child!" Ms. Tanegawa sighed. "I was legitimately worried for your health for a moment there! This had been a complete waste of time! Well, if you're going to be pretending to be some lady samurai, swinging my knives around, then you at least better start sharpening those damn things from now on! Or, if you really want to be swinging swords, then join the goddamn kendo club for god's sakes!"
The principal stared at Ms. Tanegawa. "Now now, Ms. Tanegawa, there's no need to get too emotional over this, as irresponsible as Ms. Hanamura was in handling your knives. It seems the young lady just has an active imagination! And a rather strange one too, for a girl."
"What's wrong with pretending to be a samurai or any other fighter?" Fujiko said, finally looking at the principal and Ms. Tanegawa. "What if I want to be one?"
"Young lady! Such violent professions are best suited to young men of sufficient caliber and stature! Not young and dainty women such as yourself, who wouldn't last a minute on a battlefield!"
Fujiko rolled her eyes. "Right. Well, if this is all, then I guess I'll be taking my leave, principal."
"Before you go, Fujiko," Ms. Tanegawa said. "Let's make this clear: please stop playing with my knives and go join a kendo club or something."
"Yes, I will Ms. Tanegawa. S-Sorry for your touching stuff like that without permission."
"Good, thank you."
"You may leave, Ms. Hanamura. Thank you for your time."
Fujiko left the principal's office and made her way back to her classroom, too much in a sour mood to go to Miho's classroom and tell her everything. That'll have to wait for another day.
It was not long before the intercom buzzed. "Fujioka Aiko, please report to the principal's office, Fujioka Aiko, please report to the principal's office."
Fujiko smirked as she took her seat and resumed eating from her bento. Thank god she was quick-witted enough to lie to the principal and Ms. Tanegawa, though the part about her liking swords and samurai wasn't a lie. That principal was always known to be an old-fashioned sort, never really being hard on the girls but never hesitating to curse at the boys for any perceived slight or imperfection. Which, to Fujiko, was extremely strange and just downright backward, but old people were old people, and she can't exactly reason with that.
Still, the fact that she was called up there in the first place just proves that Aiko ratted her out. Fujiko had her doubts that Aiko did it out of a change of heart, she hates her ass as much as Fujiko hated hers, it wouldn't make any sense. So then why did she tell the principal? What, did she do her homework that bad, or…?
Well, it's not like Fujiko was a grade-A expert in chemistry or algebra or geometry. But she was pretty sure she did her best.
Fujiko sighed and relaxed in her seat. This whole day's already been a bummer: first Aiko ratted her out, and then she had to lie—kind of—to Ms. Tanegawa and the principal about her hurting herself—which, they wouldn't even believe her anyway if she told them that she literally couldn't despite trying to for the past two years. And it wasn't like she was trying to hurt herself anyway, nobody grows a goddamn pair of wings, tail, or a horn when you hit puberty and it's freaky when that happens.
Fujiko put down her chopsticks and sighed, rubbing her face. "Damn, this shit's confusing. Can't I just be a normal girl, for once?"
The delicious scent wafting all around her was becoming stronger.
Fujiko, her heart beginning to race and her body becoming tenser, wrinkled her nose. Oh shit. Not now, not now…! She had to confront Aiko about that incident first before…! But she's been summoned to the principal's office, and no doubt getting chewed out by both him and Ms. Tanegawa, believing Fujiko's half-lie. It'll probably take a hot minute before she comes back.
Fujiko's breaths quickened, her heart now pounding in her as an indiscriminate urge to kill began coursing through her. Shit, this wasn't supposed to happen for another week! Why is it early today? Was it because of the homework, or Aiko's smug ass pissing her off the last few weeks? Argh, it doesn't matter now, she needs to calm herself down before she does something she regrets!
Shooting up from her seat, Fujiko ran back to the girls' restroom.
The spring breeze rustled through decayed leaves of the past autumn, whisking them through the cemetery on the outskirts of the Skalid Estate. The afternoon was falling into the evening as the sun began setting into the horizon of the great, nearly as far as the eye can see, Ogre Lake. It peeked between the distant masts and sails of countless Throne Navy ships anchored to port bouncing slightly against the gentle waves, and the cranes and hooks of the shipyards that carried timber, brimsteel, and other materials for the tireless shipwrights of His Armed Forces of the Throne.
Freya turned away from the sight of the Ogre Lake Naval Yards and continued walking down the cemetery. Generations of Skalids long before her were laid to rest in these sacred grounds, but none of the graves held the one that she was looking for. No, that grave was far removed from this so-called hall of heroes.
It was dug and unmarked in a plain field of grass surrounded by simple wooden fencing, its grass trimmed every day by the lone gardener assigned to there. It was at the end of the cemetery, where a disused dirt road connected it to the stone paths laid crisscrossing the rest of the place. There, security detail in the form of two regular Estate guards stood there at attention, still like the ornate and demonic statues that watched the cemetery; no such other statues watched over this one.
Freya approached the guards, her face solemn. "I'm just here to visit someone."
The guards nodded and tapped their halberds.
Entering the unmarked cemetery, Freya's solemn gaze turned into a frown. They didn't even offer proper gravestones, they were just mere sticks in the earth with small stone engravings at the base. Though this was a cemetery for the dishonored, and there weren't that many who tarnished the Skalid name.
Except for one in recent memory.
Freya found his grave and knelt down, reading the engraving:
Einar Skalid, the Exiled
Freya relaxed her frown. "Hey, brother. I see that there's a beautiful sunset about to occur soon, over at Ogre Lake as usual. We used to go sightseeing that sunset every day, didn't we? When it began to set over the Naval Yards and the rest of the ships of the 1st Fleet. I know you used to talk about how using the entire lake as a naval base to berth airships made you excited. Too bad you weren't around when we completed construction."
The grave whispered with the gentle spring breeze.
Freya sat down in front of it. "I don't think you're dead, Einar. You're alive, I know you must be. There's no way you got killed in that prison ship accident near Walter Park, you're way stronger than that. You must've survived, they didn't even find your body for all these years. I just don't know where you are right now. Could you have actually crossed into the human world? Have you been living there all this time, in exile? It's the only explanation I can think of, and honestly, it's less crazy than it sounds. You've always been observing humans for the past century; you're the reason why we were able to remake the entirety of the Armed Forces of the Throne into what it is today.
"Honestly, no other demon but us knows that, and it's thanks to you—I'm surprised they didn't even suspect that your grand plan to restructure His military was all because of what you had learned in the human world. Hell, they think you're some military mastermind, which I guess that's true if you were able to bring back however humans organize themselves in war and apply it to the Demon King's military. You always were a forward-thinking, curious kinda brother.
"Still, I don't know why you're so interested in the human world. What is it about humans that interest you? Surely it can't only be the way they conduct war, is it? I'll admit, reading your translations of human military treatises and doctrines, they have very interesting, non-demon-like ways of approaching war. I wonder what all the other Crowns—what even King Delkira—would think if they find out the entirety of the Armed Forces of the Throne is actually modeled after human militaries."
The grave began to hum amidst the gentle spring breeze.
Freya smiled as she rose up. "Well, anyway, maybe one day we'll see each other again, if you are, indeed, in the human world Einar. I'm not as daring as you as to break His laws, but maybe if there was a chance…"
"Reminiscing about the past, Freya?"
