Capricious

Chapter 9: Kobushi Abiru

Ein altes Blatt.

That annoying sense of return on Monday morning. Inescapable sense of obligation. The backpack is heavy, weighs me down from the back, what kinds of back problems do students receive daily? What long term damage indeed.

Overcast clouds look so brooding and neutral. Apathetic skies broken by the wail of a siren. Cars pierce the air, the bleeding air pulsing towards me, and I look back. Sirens, police cars.

A Very Bad Thing happens every day. But daily instance is not enough to rupture our lives, just to give both a sense of foreboding and an increasing amount of weariness. Even at a young age these give a sense of either ignorance or becoming jaded.

This Very Bad Thing hopefully does not concern me. And the utter frequency of Very Bad Things compared to the nearly nonexistent amount of Very Bad Things that have happened in my life- it's probably nothing to be concerned about.

But the empty desks, the sense of dread in the classroom- and I know something is wrong. It's in the eyes of each student, even they can all tell, something is surely wrong. There are discords and conspiring murmurs, all stories bred by curiosity and guess work.

The counselor Chie-sensei enters, and all minds screech to a halt, looking up at her with impatient expectancy and worry. She bites her lips, the lips that must tell us the Very Bad Thing, reluctant and sad.

We were released after the news, told to come to school tomorrow, told to take the day off to gather our thoughts. As I sit on the floor of my room, I absentmindedly run my hand along the wall, feeling the comfort and solace of each tail against my skin, the different textures all offering different voices of It's okay, it's going to be all right.

Despite all the suicide he spoke of, I did not expect Sensei to take his own life. His constant cries of death were cries of change and attention to his ideals. A warped way of expressing it- but we're all mad here.

He was getting tired of it, bipolar tendencies degrading into just a depression, but no, I still did not expect Sensei to take his own life. As confused as he was, he would live on in his confusion- but was that his own sense of happiness, or degrade his life path to a self-viewed, jaded, and bitter martyr? Would Sensei become such a pathetic being if he still was is?

"We think alike sometimes, neh?" It was one of the odd instances where she seemed more grounded, more thoughtful, and her smile was less like a slapped on prosthetic and more like the soft grin of a human. "But no, that wasn't my truest reason, though thoughts like that entered my mind."

"Did Chiri-san influence you?" I ask her, wrapping my arms around my knees.

She rests her head on her hands, looking down a bit, giggling softly. "Chiri-chan always has her reasons, and I always have mine! They're different, but they come to the same end. Opposite reasons, same goals. Like when heroes and villains team up on television! And I think, then, isn't everyone a hero?" She looks up at me expectantly.

"Different methods or different reasons just speak to what choices they'll make later. Later goals may change, but it's all depending on the situation."

She looks thoughtful, leaning back onto my bed. "Then do Chiri-chan and I actually have similar ways of thinking, if our goal is always the same?"

I almost break out into laughter. "Surely you're joking..."

"Chiri-chan is is," she muses, "I am, and you..."

"Me?"

"You...are."

I blush despite myself, looking down, warmth spreading throughout my body. She speaks before I can respond. "But you know, that probably won't last, not because I want it to end, but because ams like me never seem to last."

I sigh. "...I'm helpless when it comes to you, aren't I? Am I an aren't when you're gone?"

But she has already left.

A/N: Ein altes Blatt, translated as An Old Manuscript in English, is a story that opens with a shoemaker opening his shop. He notices a group of nomads beginning to fill the town square. They seem to have no sense of culture, and as he looks on they trash the city. They also show no respect for others and take from stores without payment. The Emperor is also watching in another home, looking through the window at the destruction, unable to do anything. The shoemaker concludes by saying, "The salvation of our fatherland is left to us craftmen and tradespeople, but we are not equal to such a task, nor indeed have we ever claimed to be capable of it. This is a misunderstanding, and it is proving the ruin of us."

I've hit my chapter buffer DX That meaning, I haven't written anymore yet...because the last two chapters are totally the hardest. XD; Sorry! It was my birthday on June 25th, and I got the Sims 2 and I've been playing nonstop. Anyone know where I can get moar awesome custom content? :D (shot)

Yeah, I also ship Kafuka/Abiru. I have no real reason why. I just do. XD

I told you chapters were getting longer! Hee, this one is so close to one thousand words, I might just elongate the author's note to reach that silly goal! Oh hey there, it worked :D (shot again)