Chapter 19 – Breaking The Books
The Beacon Academy Library – One of the largest information repositories on the planet.
Highly detailed archive databanks, aisles upon aisles of different genres, fiction and non-fiction, multiple high-tech holographic terminals with intercontinental communication capabilities, and a second level used for group studying or social activity. All the means available for aspiring Huntsmen with hungry minds.
That was what I was promised on the Beacon Academy webpage all those months ago. And it's everything I hoped it would be.
Jaune and I stand, gobsmacked at the sheer size of this grand hall of a library. The bookshelves here tower so tall that I'm convinced the second level was constructed around them.
"Wow," Jaune gasps. "Sure beats any bookstore I've been to."
"Same here," I concur. Though, that's not much considering I can count the occasions with a single hand. Louise, ever the self-proclaimed advocate for book-enthusiasts everywhere would hurl paper if she ever found out I willingly came here.
Granted, the circumstances needed to be quite… severe, for that to happen.
"So," he starts with a clap. "Where's this 'stuff' you're looking for?"
Right, right. There's work to be done. I point my finger.
"It should be right…" It lingers, extending out towards the library far longer than necessary. It floats among the shelves, searching for the right genre aisle through all one, two, ten, twen-
Oh, that's a lot.
"Um, Jaune," I say, scratching my cheek sheepishly. "I don't think I've fully thought this through."
"You have no idea where it is, do you?" He says knowingly.
"None whatsoever," I shake my head.
Little issue with trying to find something specific in such a large area of information: Actually bloody finding it. One of the major appeals in joining Beacon for me was the humongous repository it sported. Knowledge and knowing how to utilize it properly is one of the key traits all Huntsmen should have, so said Qrow. Hence all the lectures and classes on Remnant history, Grimm biology and so forth. I thought having such a sea of information to work with would make things easier.
Now, I'm thinking I'm more likely to drown in it.
Jaune's lips scrunch up uncertainly, his head bobbing from side to side as he ponders something.
Then, he nods confidently. "Uh, yeah. This isn't that big of a deal. We can take this," he says. He gives the gigantic bookshelf a look. "Sure, it's… big but, that just offers a challenge! This can be, like, our practice mission? Before the real thing? It'll give us some good experience!"
That's a very optimistic way of saying, 'We're going to spend the next three hours searching around, getting lost, and possibly ending up entombed by a mountain of books where we'll suffer a very wordy death,' but I prefer how he put it.
Jaune and Eren's Magical Trip through Book World. I let out a breath.
"Well, we better get started then."
Shelf by shelf, the pair of us begin digging around the genres, starting from the furthest left and working around in a clockwise rotation for the first floor. Though most aisles we pass receive no more than a quick glance, we do stop on occasion to take a gander at a few that prompt our interest.
First is the comic book aisle, where a glowering Jaune bounds up to one of the shelves and snatches up the new edition of some series he's been excitedly following, beaming like he's eight years old again.
"Is it any good?" I ask him.
The comics spill from his arms. He stares at me, mouth comically wide like I just said that kiwi sweets fall from the pale moonlight in an Alaska eclipse every April.
"What?!" He exclaims. "Y-you never- Hah. You haven't even- What? How?! That's not possible. That's messed up! What is wrong with-" He muscles his yells down, shaking like a miniature volcano filled with too much baking soda. I take a wary step back in case he explodes. I think he's breaking. He's even giggling. What.
"This needs fixing," he declares. "This needs fixing right now! You have no idea what you're missing!" Reaching an arm around the earlier volumes, he shovels them all off and hastily shoves them into my arm- Oh, wow. That's heavy. These are the first few volumes?
"U-uh, Jaune?" I try to speak up but he's far too busy scrambling his fallen comics together.
"Read these first then the rest. You'll thank me for it," he says. With everything collected, he pats me on the shoulder and keeps moving. "Just wait until six through ten, they're amazing."
"O-oh, kay," I reply awkwardly. Guess I'm stuck with these, I suppose. It's okay. It's that big of a deal. It looks cool enough. Not fond of the name, though.
Blue Vs. Red? Augh. Terrible.
Next, we find the…
U-um, romance aisle. Turns out that Jaune's quite a fan of them.
"I-I don't actually like this stuff!" So he denies. "They're for tips! For wooing the ladies."
"…You use romantic novels for dating advice?" I ask sceptically. I'm personally hoping that's just the rabid tongue of denial talking for him. That'd be far less embarrassing.
"Sure!" He answers, far too enthusiastically. "I mean, girls read this stuff all the time. Even when it's terrible! There must be something they're doing right? Why else would they read it?"
Probably because they realise that the real thing's full of bullshit that has the potential to screw you up emotionally and mentally?
…Not that I know the first thing about romance or anything.
"Trust me," Jaune says, patting the cover. "Watch. With this bad boy's help, I'll have a girlfriend by the end of the school year." He pauses. "Hopefully." That's more like it. "Come on. Next aisle awaits!"
I nod. He turns around and keeps moving. My eyes flicker to one of the books, cautiously scanning around in-case anyone will catch me.
I snatch the book up, burying it into stack of comics from earlier. With the deed done and the book swiftly hidden from sight, I move to catch up with him.
Nobody must know.
We pass by the Fantasy aisle as we continue onward. Jaune barely gives, what I assume to be, obscure works a second glance, but a few of them pique my curiosity. I've always wondered what a planet filled with personal superpowers, grotesque monsters and technologically advanced societies consider fantasy?
I smuggle a couple copies for myself while he isn't looking, adding to the stack. It's straining a little but, nothing horrid.
Then, we pass by a couple of Sci-Fi aisles. Jaune doesn't really care much for the ones besides some supplementary material for a couple of movie series.
I swipe a few novels up. My arms are starting to struggle but, I can handle it. It's good.
Then, we find the science section and- Oh, wow. There's a lot of books on transportation here. I should grab myself one of these.
Oh! The culture section! They should have a few books on Faunus in here somewhere! I just have to find myself some of those!
"Uh, Eren?" Jaune prompts. "Don't you think you're carrying a bit too much?"
"No," I reply, turning around. "Wh-ahh!" My arms slump, almost tipping my stack of books onto the floor as I just barely catch them. I let out a gasp of air, straightening my face.
"Why do you say that?"
"I think it's pretty clear why," he says, eying my reasonably sized collection of books. I bite my lip, feigning ignorance. I have no idea what he's referring to. It's clearly healthy and in no way damaging to my arms. Nope.
"Hey, if you're struggling, I've got some arm space. I can carry th-" He leans forward, arms outstretched to take half the stack away. In a flurry, I spin away from him, concealing the titles away from him with a flustered arm.
"Ahh!" I yelp, my words thrashing out like a gargling goose. The pair of us creep into an uncomfortable silence as we stand still, eyes flickering around like attention deficient buzzards.
"A-ah," I say, crawling out of the silence. "I mean, ah! I completely forgot to grab a computer! I should really do that, right away. Like now. Right now!" My back fully turned to him, I start moving away. "Y-you stay here and keep looking. I'll be right back!"
Speedily, books jostling in my arms, I make a beeline out of the aisle, shoulders buffing against one of the shelves on the way out.
"Woah, Eren! Hold up!" Jaune calls after me in vain. "What were we even looking for?! Eren!"
Keep moving. Don't look back. Keep moving!
Quickly locating an empty machine, I stash the books underneath the desk with a thump before setting myself down on the chair and resting my head on the desk with an even louder thump. Maybe if I smash it hard enough, the impact will break through my Aura and shatter my stupid skull.
That was dumb. That was so, so dumb of me. And rude! Really rude! I pretty much just screeched in his face and ran away! I must look like a complete madman to him!
I glance down at my bookstack, grimacing. I really should've hidden them better. Stupid. So stupid.
I sigh. Well, I found a computer, as I said I would. I think I'm feeling a bit calmer now so, I'd better go back and meet up with him. Poor sod probably feels abandoned.
Draping my suit over the chair, leaving my vest as the only article of clothing covering my hoodie, I head out to find Jaune, power-walking to the area where I left him.
Only to discover an empty space where he was standing last.
"Jaune?" I call tentatively. My head ducks between the nearby aisles, under the assumption that he hasn't strayed too far away. wander between the massive bookshelves, peering around for my teammate.
I wasn't that long away, was I? I Did he get bored and leave? He had his own books to check out. Maybe he decided to use the opportunity to bolt it? Leave and spend the rest of his time somewhere else.
Would he really do that, though?
…Where is he?
The sharp sound of paper turning halts my step. Despite coming from a book, obviously, the rate is rapid with barely a few seconds in-between turns.
Someone, a keen reader, is close by. I wasn't aware they had reading areas this closely to the books. Is Jaune there?
It's worth a check.
Pensively, I tune my ears to locate the sound, seeking it out with tepid footsteps. Past a few corners, along a few aisles, hastily pushing some books I bumped back into position and I reach the source of the flipping book pages. Peering around another corner, I balk at the discovery of a lone figure, sitting crossed-legged on a couch by herself, amber eyes darting from word to word at a swift pace.
B-Blake!
What is she doing here?!
I shimmy away before she can see me, placing my back against one of the shelves. My throat clogs up as my shoulders shudder from anxiety. Slightly, as to not give myself away, I peek out. Her attention remains fixated on the book. She hasn't detected me yet. Thank god.
…Thank god? What the hell am I saying? I was supposed to find her in the first place. Am I that braindead? If anything, I should be thanking my luck.
All I need to do is go up and tell her about lunch and then leave. Then I can study without a guilty conscience. Five words: We're having lunch at twelve. That's it. Easy. Nothing too flashy, no opportunity to look like a dunce. Okay? Okay.
Go on.
Gingerly, I lean out my head, taking a step forward out from cover.
One step. Good.
Two steps. Not too bad.
Three ste-
Her eyes wobble, my shoulders seize. As if slamming on the abort button, I pull my ligaments back behind my hiding place without any warning. Anxiety jams against the muscles in my neck. I didn't last more than a second. Damn it. Damn it! I'd follow through my skull shattering idea right now if it wouldn't give my position away.
Absolutely amazing, Eren. Stunning. Totally okay with shooting a Beowolf in the face but I can't even walk up and tell a person simple information. Truly glorious, dumbass.
I have to go back out there. She needs to know about lunch or else Weiss will give me hell.
"H-hey! Blake!"
My eyes snap to the reading area, easily recognising the voice addressing Blake with an uneasy quiver.
"Jaune," Blake answers with a drone.
"Y-you remember my name," he replies. The cheer in his is decisively forced but he's determined to stick with it. "Th-that's good. Good, good. I mean, uh, we're teammates now. We should know each other's names cause', you know, we have to fight together and stuff, and it'd be pretty difficult to do that without knowing… our names."
Blake hums absent-mindedly, continuing to read her book as if Jaune had been a fly floating around aimlessly.
…I should leave.
He's already talking to her. He's bound to mention something about lunch at some point. There's no need for me to be involved now. I'll only be an extra body taking up space.
Y-yeah, that's right. Makes it easier for him to concentrate.
Pushing off, I slink away into the library underbelly, slivering away as quickly as possible, picking up the tempo as my confidence in my withdrawal grows.
I'm away. There's no way they'll know I was there. If he brings it up, don't say anything that'll suggest otherwise.
I let out a breath. It's not like I was going to make a move or anything. He'll probably handle it better than me anyhow.
…I stop walking. A certain pattern among the genre names starts to crop up in the aisles: evidence of ghosts, unproven theories on Grimm origins, unironic books on vampire-wolves?
This stuff is batshit crazy.
I'm getting close. I move up further down the line. It must be here. Closer. Closer…
I skid to a halt in front of the last portion, utter glee growing within as the name confirms what I've been searching for. I've finally found it.
Remnant Legends and Myths.
Ancient stories closely connected to real world locations and events yet. Stories about mystical beings: spirits, gods, magic, and other such fantastic folk lore tales, stuff that no normal person would look at it, bereft of all the evidence proving such unrealistic phenomena, and accept it as fact. If someone told you otherwise, they must be deluded or insane.
Sounds familiar, doesn't it?
If I'm going to find a way home, I need to do research and the typical news stories won't be any help with something as crazy as what I'm experiencing. With something so mental, trivial widely-accepted facts aren't going to cut it.
I need to find a link – A connection between my situation and one of these fairy tales: Glimpses of other worlds, suddenly appearing people, strange names, use of languages that 'Don't exist,' anything that may relate to home. There has to be an explanation, a source, a lead that I can work with.
I can't be the only person this has ever happened to. I can't be…
Sucking air through my nostrils, I grab an armful of titles, any will suffice – I'm starting from scratch here, and I make a speedy return to my desk to get stuck in.
About halfway through the first book, Jaune comes out into view, his hand almost magnetically attached to his cheek.
"There you are!" He greets, waving his free hand, rushing to my station. "You will not believe who I just ran into." If only. "I found Blake. She's here in the library. I've already told her about the whole lunch deal." His eyes flicker statically. "Don't think she's going."
Wait, is that why he's…
"D-did she slap you again?!" I reel back in shock.
"What?" He replies, blinking. I indicate to his face cradling hand. He splutters in realization. "O-oh crap!" He swipes it away immediately, grinning nonchalantly as if he did something as ordinary as killing a mosquito. "Oh, that? Pfft. I dunno, man. Arms just do weird things when you're not using them. It's like they've got a mind of their own."
My eyes bend into a glare. Does he seriously really expect me to buy a piss-poor attempt at a lie like that?
His grin fades under the weight of my eyes, his shoulders shuffling together as he tugs at his collar.
"Yeah, I didn't think that'd work either," he says. Yielding, Jaune sighs. "No, she didn't slap me. My hand was there because she…" His words descend into incomparable mumblings. "Because she looked at me and I…" More mumbles.
"I'm sorry? You did what?" I ask.
"Flinched." He grumbles. "She gave me a look and my hand just… went up there and wouldn't let go. Like a total badass." He sarcastically gives himself two thumbs up. "Way to go me. Huntsman in training. Ran away from book girl with attitude. Watch out, Grimm, if you look at me menacingly, I might crap myself." He rolls his eyes in exasperation.
"O-oh," I say. I bend my head forward. "I-I'm sorry. I should've let it go." It's sure something I wouldn't want to admit.
"Please don't tell anyone. I want to have at least one week without people realizing I'm lame," he bemoans.
I bob my head. "Not a soul." If there's one thing I'm good at, it's keeping quiet.
"Thanks, man," he replies gratefully. "By the way, what time are we on?"
Oh, yeah. Blake may not be going but, we have our own lunch to grab. I gaze at the lower corner of the computer screen.
"Twenty-five past eleven," I reply. Wow, we spent almost an hour of that searching around the bookshelves. We haven't even seen what's offered on the second floor. Jesus, this place is immense.
"Hey, we better head off then while we've still got time. We'll need to leave our books in the room before we can grab some grub," Jaune says. "The room should be dry by now." I feel like there's a maybe he's forgoing from that sentence.
"You can go on without me," I say. "I want to do a little extra studying before I head back."
"You sure?" He asks, eying my now two large stacks of books. "That seems like it'll be pretty heavy. You don't want me to carry some of that?"
I give my books a second glance. Considering that I almost threw my back out carrying only one of those earlier…
"No," I decline. "No, I'll be alright. I'll simply shed a few if it's too heavy for me to carry. I have it covered."
His eyebrows furl insecurely at my reassurance but, he doesn't challenge me on it, vouching to simply shrug instead.
"Alright, if you say so," he says. His arms move up in a motion, about to say goodbye, when they halt jarringly. "Oh! I almost forgot!" They go digging through his pockets. His tongue flicking in concentration, he presents his Scroll. "We don't have each other's phone numbers, yet!"
I resist the urge to smack myself upside the head. Of course! Phone numbers. We were supposed to do that at the start, all of us. What a stupid thing for me to forget.
"Yeah. We should do that right now," I agree, flipping out my own. Opening the screen, I go surfing through to my contacts list. Inside are four names: Ruby, Yang, Taiyang, and Qrow. Ruby's name flashes repeatedly with fifty-six texts and five voicemails residing beside it. I really should find some spare time to read all those at some point.
My finger glides past them for the 'Add contact' function when, subconsciously, I find it hovering above Qrow's name. My fingers unconsciously flex and clench as my lips purse.
"Eren?" Jaune prompts. "I found my number. You ready?"
Huffing quietly, my finger glides across to its intended target.
"Yeah. I'm ready," I reply. A few mistimed button presses, a correction of misplaced phone numbers and a successful exchange later and the pair are all set. My contact amount totals to five.
What a curious feeling, that is.
"Cool! Send me a quick text when you're heading our way and I'll let you know where we're sitting," he says. He waves his Scroll as he departs to grab his books. "See you then!"
"See you," I wave in return, watching as he disappears in the direction of the main desk. That's one thing sorted, at least. Saves me from the dreaded cycle of remembering and forgetting to do it, like I know I would've.
Getting Weiss' and Blake's will be a cornucopia of fun. Looking forward to that.
I heave out a sigh, glancing at Qrow's name in my Scroll. I send him a text message informing him of what had occurred at the Entrance exam a few weeks ago and, despite the buffering circle being absent from my screen, I haven't received a snarky reply from him yet. He left for some 'Work' over a month ago and he did say that he wouldn't be around for a while but…
I know how strong he is. He's fine.
He has a lifetime of experience fighting Grimm. He's fine.
He might be a drunken git all the time, but he's not stupid. He's fine. Stop worrying he's fine.
He's.
Fine.
…I set the Scroll down. I should worry about myself, first. There's so much I need to contend with here.
Such as how in the sodding hell am I going to carry all these books back to the room by myself?
A wagon. In a high-tech high-profile combat academy, they give students with too many books a bright red wagon to drag all the way from the library to the dorms.
There are some sadistic members of staff at this academy, I swear it.
Needling my back into place, I continue pulling the lead with both arms. Thank god, we don't have Sparring lessons today, pulling this damn thing for ten minutes is enough physical exercise for one day.
Still, I'm on my dorm's floor now. I only need to take it there, unload everything under my bed and then taking it back will be a cinch.
I feel like I'm forgetting about something here.
A weight buffs against my back.
"Oof!" I grunt. Oh, yeah. Watching where I'm going. Like a normal being. I turn around to meet the poor soul I just walked into. "S-sorry, I-"
I stop. Immediately.
Standing before me are four guys: one with long blue combed back, one with an unremarkable face, one with a bright green mohawk, and the final one, the person whom I barged into, is the towering mass who stood up in class earlier – Winchester.
He turns around, dwarfing me by a margin not even Tai managed to achieve. He stares me down, a giant wall in my path, standing steady and hardy in my almost miniscule presence. He glances down at my uniform, nostrils visibly flaring up as he mutely makes a connection I'd rather be oblivious to.
Then, he glares at me. I shirk instantly.
I should leave. Right now. Stricken with panic, I haul the wagon around to flee.
"I-I'm so sorry! I'll get out of your-"
Thump. The wagon stops moving. I pull and pull but I feel like I'm trying to shift a mountain.
I glance back. Winchester's foot weighs heavily against the back on the wagon. I'm not moving anywhere, anytime soon.
He smirks at me.
Oh, no.
"Yo, Cardin," the one with the mohawk speaks. "What are you doing? Lunch is soon and I'm hungry as hell. Stop screwing around and let's go."
"Guys," Cardin says, beckoning them with a finger. "Don't you think he looks a little familiar?"
"…No," he replies with an apathetic grump. He stuffs his hands in his pockets, more than willing to leave, when the one with the comb over stops him with a hand on his shoulder.
"No, no. Hold on, Russel. I think Cardin's onto something here," he says, leaning his chin on a finger. "Look a little closer. Doesn't he look like someone we seen just recently?" Mohawk grumbles impatiently but he listens and, unfortunately, turns around and stares daggers at me.
"…Yeah," he says, moving closer. "Yeah. He does seem a little familiar, now that you mention it. Seems a bit 'little' to be attending Beacon, don't you think?"
"Heh, that's funny," giggles the other guy. "Cause his name is Liddel and it sounds like…"
His three 'friends' glare at him. I can almost hear a verbal 'Shut the hell up' emit mentally from all of them. The guy looks pensive, biting his lip and almost shivering from all the negative attention suddenly heaped onto. He points at me, almost shouting his next words.
"Cardin! Wasn't this guy made leader just like you?"
"Yes. Yes he was," Cardin says, his voice a low growl. Setting his sight back on me, he leans laxly against the wagon. "So, Liddel-boy, what the hell are you doing out here by yourself?"
"I…" I swallow. "I-I was just… going back to my room."
"Oh, yeah?" He chuckles. He nods at the wagon. "You've got a lot of books there. Mind if we take a look?"
My stomach lurches. Th-they'd going to see everything I picked up if they do that!
My grasp on the wagon tightens. I-I can't let them see them! No way!
Cardin doesn't give me a choice. Kicking the side of the wagon, it spins away from my reach, the lead cracking away from my hands like a snapping whip.
"Ah!" I cry out, clenching my burning fingers. The trio begin digging through the books, hurling titles carelessly left and right, not even giving them more than a shake and a horrible bemused laugh. "W-wait, no!"
Before I can even think of moving to stop them, Cardin bulky body blocks the way. He folds his arms – Does he think that he won't need them? – and tuts at me.
"Don't be a dick, Liddel-boy," he scolds. "It's called sharing. The guys and I are only looking to have a little fun. We know how to enjoy books." My body starts to shake. Satisfied, Cardin addresses his group. "What've we got, boys?"
"Nothing I'd want to caught dead with," the comb over one scoffs. He holds up one of my comics. "Blue Vs. Red?"
"The Firelight of Pyre?" One holds up a fantasy title.
"Datalink Alpha?" Another holds up a Sci-Fi book.
"What the shit," the mohawk growls, appearing as though he's about to retch. "Someone's not losing their virginity any time soon. Goddamn nerd."
A knife stabs me right in the lungs. I can't breathe.
"He's really not," comb-over laughs. "Check this out." He lifts up a silky cream book and my heart stops dead.
"Sky, is that…" The other guy's words drift off.
"Oh, you've got to kidding me," spits mohawk. "Cardin, you will not believe the shit he's reading."
Sky chucks the book over. Cardin snatches it out of the air without the need to turn his head. He takes one look at the title and his face scrunches up in utter contempt.
"Imperfect Perjury?" He chokes, glaring at me as though I'm scum. "Are you trying to turn into a girl? "You are such a freak."
I'm shaking. Damn it, I'm shaking. Stop it. I straighten my posture, gazing down at the floor sightless. Don't let them see. I can't let them see. Hide it. Don't let them see you.
"Dove, get the window open," Cardin commands. "The badass who breaks the most expensive crap gets fifty lien from the other guys."
The window screeches open. I don't want to hear but my ears refuse to deafen themselves. I breathe fresh air through my nose to cool my blood red face.
"Oh, that money's good as mine," mohawk boasts. "Say goodbye to that street lamp!" He grunts, tossing one of the books through the air no doubt, but the sound that comes back is not a crash, but a splash.
He must've hit the pond. The other three burst into laughter.
"Want a redo, Russel?" Sky gasps for air.
"Oh, piss off, all of you," Russel grumbles. "The light was in my eyes."
"If by light you mean shade, then yeah buddy. It was totally in your eyes," he smirks. Footsteps click as he moves himself around. "Watch and learn."
Another grunt but this time, the crashing of glass comes through. Sky celebrates with a deliberately obnoxious woot.
"Woo! That's a hit!" He cheers.
"…Your book was bigger. You lucked out," Russel huffs.
"Spoken by someone who didn't hit the lamp," snarks Sky.
"Oh, you wanna start? Okay. Okay! I'll grab something heavier then!" He shouts. Boots stomp around the wagon. Nosy bumps bang against the interior as the grumpy green guy impatiently chucks them around, one of them noticeably cracking the floor.
Then, the noises suddenly stop, but Russel doesn't come out from the wagon.
"…What the fuck is this?"
What is he talking about? What else did he find that could be worse than teenage romance novels? I peer my head up from its curled-up position and the answer almost strikes me in the face. It skids to a stop behind me.
It's a book about life on Menagerie. A Faunus book.
Russel is apoplectic.
"Are you shitting me?! What are you doing with this crap in your wagon? You have a sick fetish for these animals or something? Do you hate your own race? That's it, isn't it?! You're anti-human! I bet you're one of those scumbags that support the White Fang, aren't you? Aren't you?!"
S-support a terrorist organization? I-is he even thinking straight?!
"N-no!" I shake my hands in denial. "I-I don't-"
No answer I can give would be enough to calm his rage. He storms violently towards me, furiously kicking the wagon out of his way, steam seeping from his maw.
"You son of a bitch!" He raises an arm. "I'm going to beat you until you'll piss blood!"
I pitifully attempt to shield my face with my arms, Russel's encroaching assault enough to cause me to shrink away in fear, awaiting a painful blow and subsequent brutal beating afterwards.
That beating never comes. I open my eyes to find Sky, hands grasped around Russel's wrists, fighting to drag him away from me.
"Hey! Hey! Hey! Russel! Russel!" He shouts amidst his friend's volatile threats. "Cool it, he's not worth it. He'll probably start crying after the first punch, anyway."
Russel's breathing heavily, glaring enough daggers into eyes to potentially skewer them. His gritted teeth slowly soften, his chest slowing back to a normal pace.
The same can't be said for me, the act of running away and abandoning my collection becoming more and more appealing than losing my research books. A lost cause that I simply can't bare to let go of.
Sky releases Russel. Instead of immediately pouncing rabidly at me, he instead vouches to snatch another of my Faunus books and charge at the window.
"This." He indicates to the book. "This crap needs to go."
He throws it, powerfully. The piercing sound of wood breaking contacts my ears. I feel myself quaking. If not the bench, it would've been me.
"Wow. Y-you broke the bench, man," Cardin's crony awes. "Cardin! Hey, Cardin. When's it my go?"
"Just grab a book from the wagon and start throwing," Cardin says simply.
"Uh, alright. Cool!" He replies, walking over to my wagon. "I'll take… This one."
He takes out…
No.
It's a Remnant Legends and Myths book!
No! They are not taking that from me!
They will not take them from me!
"Get your hands off that!" I roar, my voice booming across the corridor, through the dormitories, enough to reach the main school building itself. The crony drops the book back into the wagon like he was holding a live bomb in his hands, stepping away from the rest of the books. The other three look at me warily.
…Where my mind quickly catches up and understands fully what the hell I just did.
Why did I do that? Why did I say that? Did I honestly think that would make the situation better? Of course not, that's only made everything worse! Why didn't I keep my stupid mouth shut?! Why couldn't I just stand there and take it?! Stupid! Absolutely stupid!
"I-I…"
"Now, why the hell did you have to go and yell that?" Cardin growls. The wagon rattles as he lifts away his foot.
"I-I'm-"
"We were just screwing around, having a little fun and then you have to go and do that?" He goes on, approaching me, standing, barring over me. "That's messed up, Liddell-boy."
"I didn't mean t-"
"Apologize."
My chest hitches at his degrading command.
"H-huh?"
"Say you're sorry. You ruined my friends' fun. Say sorry to them," he says. Seriously. "Say it."
"I-I-I'm sorry," I say, bowing my head.
"Hm. No, not feeling it. Say it again," he tells me.
"I-I'm sorry," I repeat, harder.
He shakes his head.
"Nope. Say it louder," he demands.
"I'm sorry!" I shout.
"Louder," he snarls.
"I'm sorry!" I shout.
"Say you're sorry!"
"I'm sorry!" I scream.
My lungs dry up. I feel exactly as they feel: Pathetic, worthless, pitiable.
I hate this. I've always hated this.
"No, you're not," he retorts coldly. "If you were sorry, you would've known better than to ever come to this academy." He backs me up against the wall, pushing me into a uncomfortable position, unable to run away anymore.
"I'm going to make something clear to you that I made clear to the last combat school I attended," he whispers deathly. "I run things here. I decide who stays and who leaves and right now, Liddel-boy, I'm thinking that shit-stains like you don't deserve to be here. I don't what the hell you did to get your leadership position, but I know it's all crap. You're no leader, you're no Huntsman, and you're no fighter. You're nothing."
"Get the hell out of my Academy. Now."
My body doesn't respond to my commands. I can only stand here, overridden with terror, taking his abuse with no comeback. I say nothing. I do nothing. Everything is quivering.
Cardin peers over his shoulder.
"We're heading out," he tells his group firmly.
"Oh, what?!" Yelps the crony. "I didn't even get to take my turn yet."
Sky smiles and pats him on the back "Well, you should've been quicker on the uptake. Time flies when you're hanging out with our group, Bronzewing," he says glibly. All three of them turn the other way, Russel gazing down at me and scowling as he does so.
Cardin finally moves away from me and everything falls in on itself. My chest aches, my heartbeat won't stop beating. I've never experienced a heart attack before, but this feels eerily close.
No more. I can take this anymore.
A cough causes me to lift up my heavy head. Cardin's there, foot underneath the back end of the wagon. My eyes widen.
Please don't do it.
He smirks.
"Heh."
In a single movement, the wagon is thrown straight up into the air and I scream. I force my head down, hands clamped on my head. Stop it. Please don't hurt me. I don't want any of this, please!
Heart won't stop. Beating too fast. Make it stop. Make it stop!
The noise quietens. Timidly, I remove the hands away from my head, raising myself to check that it's all over.
The back-half had smashed against the top of the ceiling: dust bursting from the broken panels, metal shatters and flies everywhere, books soaring across the other end of the hall, pages ripped away by pure momentum, littering the halls with torn tatters and, in the middle of it all, is a red wagon – Utterly decimated to the point where the only thing left is one wheel and half a box.
I can hear them laughing from further down the hall.
"Woah! Man!" Cheers Russel. "Cardin, you sneaky douchebag!"
"And that, boys, is how you win a hundred and fifty lien! Pay up, assholes!" Cardin proclaims proudly. I wait until their voice vanish completely until I move, afraid that if I move again that they would know and return for round two.
Silence. They're gone. I'm all alone now, with this mess.
I'm choking on my own whimpering, staring at the mangled books, the selection I chose, tossed around like garbage. Some of these were in mint condition this morning. Now, they're rubbish, trash, nothing.
I should've ran when I had the chance.
A muffled buzz vibrates from my trousers. My Scroll. I take it out with boneless fingers, fighting to keep them still enough to open my screen.
It's a text – From Jaune.
'Hey, Eren. Weiss is starting to get a little grumpy. Where are you at?"
I… I should reply. If I leave it until later, he'll start to worry. I make a start on my reply, keeping myself still enough to avoid mistakes.
'I…'
I was assaulted.
I lost most of my books.
I'm so scared.
I…
I can't.
'I got lost. Took a wrong turn. Heading back to dorm. Be there soon.'
I pick myself up. One by one, I huddle the remaining books together and place them in what survived of the wagon. The rest is outside. I'll need to find them all before I head away to lunch.
A/N: Well, this certainly felt inevitable. It's not like anything I described about Eren's looks or personality screams quintessential bullying bait, does it?
In some ways, I'm not entirely happy about beginning this arc. With Team CRDL being canonical assholes and Eren being the way he is, there's no way they wouldn't start picking on him. The decision to start this arc was pretty much out of my hands. Bit concerning, having a portion of your story taken out of your hands and, with how poorly received the Jaunedice was on the show, I'm not exactly jumping for joy at the idea of writing a bullying story.
Still, I'm choosing to look on the bright side on this arc. Eren hasn't really encountered any social conflict so far, the stuff that he's naturally really bad at dealing with, and while sort of typical, Cardin bullying him does give me an opportunity to actually make him deal with that kind of ordeal. Grimm aren't exactly known for hurling verbal abuse at human beings, after all.
Anyway, thank you very much for reading. What do you think of the story so far? Good? Bad? Be sure to let me know in the reviews. Constructive criticism is encouraged.