harmonize_rpg | (no subject)

Who: Minoru, Shizuru
Where: Main building, third-year floor.
When: Friday, April 28th, before classes.
What: Order + anti-order = ?

Really, it was remarkable that Shizuru was in school at all, especially considering her recent track record on that point. But Yachiyo had been firm enough to get her to at least come in.

Well, sort of.

It had half taken, anyway. She was in the building, at least, but it was a few minutes before homeroom was due to start and she was loitering by the stairwell to the roof, tucked into an alcove that was (she hoped) difficult to spot from the classroom doors, showing no signs of heading back down where she belonged.

The second-year pin on her collar was another point, albeit a less visible one, making it blindingly obvious that she was in the wrong spot. Of course, it was one of the last things most would notice about her uniform -- the tie was loose, looking ready to come undone at any moment; her socks were bunched down around her ankles; the buttons on the jacket were mostly undone.

It had rapidly been getting messier over the last week or two; whether it was an intentional statement or a general inability to care was unclear.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Then at some point she stopped being alone, but life, the universe, and reality as it is simply wasn't kind enough to inform her of that.

Someone came down the stairwell. Someone was above on the stairwell.

That someone had stood there for a while. Saying nothing, doing nothing. This was achieved through a curious exercise in stealth: if you you try to hide your presence, people will look for you, because people look for hidden things. But if you make yourself, your presence, feel as unimportant as possible, tailor your body language, make your feet light like they carry unimportant, meaningless weight, and more importantly, if you surrender the burden of self and dreams, it'll be hard to notice you.

Until you smile.

"Uh, hi."

Shizuru hadn't expected anyone to be paying attention to her. She definitely hadn't expected anyone on the stairwell.

And she really didn't like the look of that smile.

She didn't have her cap with her -- that would have been too blatant, even for her -- but her bangs shaded her eyes nonetheless as she looked up at him. Yeah. Definitely something she didn't like there.

"Need somethin'?" Her voice was as casual as ever, though. It took more than mild creepiness to faze her.

"Did you lose something, miss?" said the boy, starting to step down towards her. "Perhaps something you could search for after classes? I could assist if so required."

"I'm good." She took one step back, involuntarily, barely conscious of the motion. Ugh, this guy was going to hassle her about getting to class, wasn't he? Annoying. The teachers themselves were bad enough.

Something felt a little weird about it, though. The alarm bells in her head normally went off under very different circumstances, but they were starting to ring quietly now.

He didn't follow her in stepping away. He didn't have to. His eyes were on her and even if he didn't close the gap between them there was something about them that made it feel like you weren't getting away.

"You shouldn't be here," he informed.

He didn't say it. He informed it. It was very impersonal, that tone. Lukewarm and dispassionate like he didn't even care except for the sheer incorrectness of it.

He eyed her, searching for the grade pin. "Ah. Kohai. Anyway, your uniform is also terribly out of shape, but you should fix it in private," he said.

He tilted his head. "You should think more about how this kind of behavior reflects on our school, miss," he said. "You really should."

Ugh. Creeper. He was worse than Mai, and that was saying something. At least Mai could get worked up about this sort of thing. This guy was flat enough to make Shizuru wonder if the secret government project she'd been drafted into somehow employed robots, too.

Hah, no, that was unlikely. She'd seen stranger things, though.

She turned her back on him and waved off his concerns, mumbling something noncommittal. It was enough to chase her out of her alcove, at least.

"You realize this will reach the faculties, right?" he said, once she was in motion.

Then he added, with such benevolence it made you think of lambs. Probably lambs with their tongues lolled out after their necks were snapped for the slaughter: "It's for everyone's own good. Nothing personal. You'll thank me someday, as we all benefit from others learning to obey the rules."

He turned to leave, his deed done.