Gold Foil

Chapter Twelve: Ego

Satoru leans back in his chair, propping a foot against the lip of the desk. Behind him, he feels the unblinking gaze of one of his new colleagues. That gaze seems to bore holes into the back of his head but he pays it no mind.

What's there to be done?

Satoru supposes that he could turn around and say something wry to ruffle the other teacher's feathers but he's not in the mood for that.

Ever since his incident on the train, Satoru has found that he's not in the mood for a lot of things.

He keeps mostly to himself, does his job and ignores the complaints of the elders. However, when there's no shadows following behind him, or when he's not confined within the walls that strain to hear everything he might utter- Satoru teaches his one student what he deems as the truth.

He finds it important to arm his pupil with what his bosses deem as taboo knowledge. If the elders aim to blind the youth to how things truly run, then Satoru will be the one to rip the metaphorical blindfold from his student's eyes so that they can see the infinite stretch of the truth.

He reaches into his pants pocket and pulls out those long since shattered shades and fiddles with one of its arms. A slight smile tugs at the corners of his lips. If the elders had thought that he wouldn't radicalize his student, then they're far more stupid than he previously thought.

Pale fingers still for a moment and he sets the glasses down. Keen ears pick up the soft rustling of clothes and Satoru glances over his shoulder, finally acknowledging the other sorcerer.

"It feels like with every year, classes get smaller and smaller." She remarks with a weary sigh. Satoru shrugs, he himself, had come from a class of three and one of which ended up as a dropout so it's not as if he can relate to whatever she's bemoaning about.

"Maybe the kids realized that this isn't their only option. Maybe their parents finally understood how dangerous this line of work can be." Satoru gives her a crooked grin. The woman studies him for a moment before huffing and looking down to her small stack of papers. Shortly kept fingernails tap against the wood of the desk. Satoru listens as each tap grows more and more irate until she lets out another huff.

"Don't be ridiculous, what else are they going to do? Work in an office?"

"Why not? I know a guy who drones goes on and on about how he'd rather work a regular job than this. Being a sorcerer ain't for everyone. Those who are weak will break. Those who have fear in their hearts, will only hesitate in the heat of the moment and the only thing walking away from that battle will be the curse." Satoru leans forward, resting his chin on the palm of his hand as his grin grows.

"You think a fifteen year old kid will be able to push down their natural fears? Their doubts? Their foolish mentality that curses can be saved through the power of friendship, because that's what anime tells them is doable?" With each question, Satoru lists them off on his fingers. His coworker's face darkens slightly and her eyes narrow.

"That's what we're here for, to train them to move past those sentiments."

"So you're openly admitting to training them to become child soldiers?" Satoru quirks up a brow, feigning surprise, clasping his hands together on the desk.

"It's tradition." She replies with a shrug. "They're young and impressionable, they're flexible and soak things up like a sponge. This is the best way. The only way." Upon hearing this, Satoru can't help but to throw back his head and bark out a laugh.