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Post by Kouen Shirogiri on Oct 23, 2019 17:54:27 GMT -5
Not everyone's perfect... but sometimes the world seems like it'd be better off if they were. It had to happen eventually, they always threw insults at each other but what should've been a simple pass by of shade turned into an outright argument. "At least I don't rely on daddies reputation", "At least I inherited my parents quirks" were some of the things he said. He had let loose, they used to be childhood best friends but after her mother's death, she hated him ever since for his parentage. At first he tried to be patient and understanding about it, letting her hurl her insults at him as he grew up but it became less about grieving and more just a place of her venting. He fought back and insulted her as well, believing it to be justified. He felt like it went on for far too long.
And look where he ended up, in the classroom, for detention. He's already sat down in the middle, with the teacher long gone. They simply said "Wait here for a few hours, think about what you've done. If I come back and I see you gone, your punishment will be more severe." but he's sure that was meant to Meisa as well. He had the few occasional looks at her but he simply minded his own business, sitting in silence as the time went by. Their phones were confiscated, so they can't waste time that way either. He planned to wait until their time was up, as dull as that would be... he kept thinking about what he said to Meisa and now that he vented at her, all he felt is shame and regret for saying those things.
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Post by Meisa Horikita on Oct 23, 2019 20:45:05 GMT -5
[attr="class","box2"]Detention, meant to be served in quiet reflection. To brood upon their mistake and feel remorseful – well. Meisa didn’t feel like sitting at a desk and kicking herself. Not in a seat next to him.
Upon being led into the classroom, she had purposely ignored Kouen. Her sapphire-blue hues cold and turned away from him, her body-language – in how she sat, one knee balanced over the other – was terse and all the colder. And the plush shape of her mouth pursed tightly, anger growing, as the teacher, distributing their punishment, stood over her, a hand out in a silent gesture for Meisa to confiscate her phone.
”Fine.” She reached into her bag and drew out the rectangular teal-coloured form of her phone, accessories of a favourite anime series of hers dangled from its base. Handing it over, irritably, she added, ”Don’t be surprised when it rings though.” Hideki was probably going to wonder where she was, if word of the newest clash between Kouen and herself didn’t spread around their class, or the academy. Part of her hoped that it wouldn’t, despite knowing that it was a stupid wish to make. She just knew that if Hideki mentioned it to either of his parents then they would tell her father. And that – that would be bad.
The teacher left the two of them alone and Meisa wasted only a minute before she had left her seat. Still saying nothing to Kouen, still not looking in his direction, she crossed the floor to the blackboard. Picking up a piece of chalk, she began to scratch across the board’s dark surface.
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[newclass=.box2::-webkit-scrollbar-thumb]background: #708BA2;[/newclass] | I won't be, no I won't be like you. Fighting back, I'm fighting back Tag: @usagiyama Words: 270 |
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Post by Kouen Shirogiri on Oct 23, 2019 21:06:15 GMT -5
Not everyone's perfect... but sometimes the world seems like it'd be better off if they were. Kouen continued to mind his own business, taking a few glances at Meisa's direction, he cringed at the sound that Meisa made and it invoked a bit of anger from him, "Can you stop with that? what the fuck have I ever done to you?" he finally broke. "I'm sorry for what happened to your mum, I really am, but I had nothing to do with it... alright? I get you hating villains, but I'm here because I want to prove I'm not one... I shouldn't have to go to school everyday waiting for the next big insult you'll throw at me, or you scheming everytime I turn my fucking back." he was about to continue, god he wanted to continue... but his self-awareness kicked in and considering their argument from earlier, he'd rather not push it any further.
"What happened to us, honestly? we were friends at one point." he felt a bit of nostalgia every now and then, everytime he sees her, he thinks of the good times they had when nothing really mattered. He ever wondered if she felt the same way, or does she really resent him? after having his little outburst, he sat right back down to his seat. What's the point? she'll just go back to hating him again, like always. He wants to move past it but he's so sick of all the fighting, the constant need to defend himself over parentage that he can't control.
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Post by Meisa Horikita on Oct 24, 2019 0:56:52 GMT -5
[attr="class","box2"] The scratching, of her drawing the white chalk against the blackboard, was light, far from being similar to her dragging her nails across the board’s surface. And there was no true rhythm to her motions, as she drew.
Cartoonish, as was her style. Of rounded shapes and scratchy lines. She thought it obvious that she was drawing a “chibi” version of Kouen, which “came to life” – seeming to fall out from the blackboard’s surface. Completing a different gesture – the first punched itself straight in its eye, mouth opening in a wordless cry of pain only to dissolve into ash, the second instead slammed its face into the blackboard. The third threw up a surprisingly detailed “cartoonish” puddle of sick. It was a little satisfying, each chibi-version of Kouen suffering in brief moments of sentience – until Kouen was sneering at her once more.
She didn’t look at him – she refused to acknowledge him there, existing in the same space at her, and would have continued to have ignored him had he not brought up her mother.
”I'm sorry for what happened to your mum, I really am –“
He could have cussed some more, become more creative with his words, and she wouldn’t have cared. But she cared – cared that she still remembered what it was like to be nine-years-old, watching all that red spray across the TV, the look of shock filling her mother’s eyes.
”Shut up.” Her voice was soft but within the emptiness of the room her words rang with a cutting clarity, perhaps due to the chilling ire that coated each word. ”You don’t get to talk about her.” And her grip upon the chalk between her fingertips tightened in emphasis, edges crumbling beneath the pressure.
Kouen, of course, wasn’t the one who had gutted her mother during a live broadcast. Nine-years-old and sitting opposite from her within their classroom. Not physically, but it was as her father said – “evil” had murdered her mother. A system that involved those who abused their quirks at the expense of others, of those very abusers being allowed the chance to argue the justness of their consequences, to sit in ordained rooms being fed and clothed and protected by those affected by their abuse. Kouen was a part of that system, dregs of it slithered within his blood and bones.
And so he didn’t get to talk about her mother. It was a bad joke, him acting as if he were the abused. The weaker party. That she was the bad guy.
Half-turning so as her side, little more than her right shoulder, was facing him, Meisa didn’t relinquish the chalk in her hand but she did focus her stare, frosted and irritated. ”Yeah, when I was a child. Kids tend to believe in dumb things but I’m not a child anymore. Maybe you should grow up too.”
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Post by Kouen Shirogiri on Oct 24, 2019 2:07:56 GMT -5
Not everyone's perfect... but sometimes the world seems like it'd be better off if they were. Despite her attempt to stop him from talking, he didn't stop. He finished what he had to say and she had to listen. He was sick of the way she treated him. "Wanna hear a story?" but regardless of her response, he'd give it to her. "There was a villain duo, a couple that worked in crime together. One could open the surface of anything like an entrance, the other could control a purple mist. They eventually got captured but during their captivity, they found out the woman of the pair was pregnant. She birthed a boy and he had to grow up in the system, without his mother or father." it was obvious where he's going with this, to at least build some sympathy for him.
"But he was met with disdain, other kids at the foster home were weary of him... he didn't have much reason to exist until he met a girl at a young age. The pillar of light to his otherwise dark world... a hero that saved his life from a dark path. It wasn't until that pillar crashed on him, for circumstances he couldn't control. He questioned himself many times, did he deserve to exist? was his life a mistake with the blood of villains in his flesh?" his foster mother had told him this story, she told it to him many times in a version where he came out as the hero but he told it in his own way. "But he could prove them wrong, his foster mother pushed him to become a hero, to be what his parents couldn't be... to become that pillar of light for those who don't have to suffer the way he did." he decided to end the story there, cutting it out from a third person viewpoint and cutting it straight to first person.
"I will become a hero, you'll be forced to acknowledge me, they all will, and when I finally become that pillar of light... I'll forgive you, because even after everything... I still see you as my friend, pathetic, right?" he's ready to be judged again. He finally said what he wanted to say, past the insults, past their tension, he wants to leave the classroom today knowing that they'll just... stop. That's all he wants. He sat back down on his chair. He didn't know if it'd do anything to change her judgement of him, but he hopes it'd at least crack that wall of hers and make her rethink about their current relationship at least, and to at least work together. She doesn't have to respect him, or like him, just tolerate him.
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