Eyes of Azure | Assassination Classroom

:: Attempt 25 | Breakeven ::

:: Attempt 25 | Breakeven (Unedited) ::

"Heav'n has no Rage like Love to hatred turn'd,
Nor Hell a Fury like a Woman scorn'd."
- "The Mourning Bride" by William Congreve

x + x

[An hour ago.]

He remembers those days, though he may pretend that he doesn't.

He remembers those days, because they're all he has left to hold on to.

He remembers those days beneath the sakura tree, watching her retreating figure as she chased butterflies, hearing her voice ringing with childish joy. He remembers those days as if they were just yesterday—he wishes it were so, but knows that it will never be.

Because they've long passed him by.

Because they've long been stained with the guilt of his prejudiced accusations, of assumptions of the blood which had been splattered and had stained her childlike hands.

And these memories reduced him into pretending that he can still bring them back, that he can still remain by her side like he used to—like he promised her that day beneath the sakura tree. These memories make him pretend that everything will still be alright, that he can still fix what he's broken.

He clings to that one mask humanity loves to wear so much: the mask called pretending-everything's-alright. Because without it, he knows he's broken. Without it, he knows that she—no, they have both been broken.

And he was the one who ignited the blast which shattered them both.

So he spends his days remembering, grasping at the wisps of his memories of those days beneath the sakura tree in the same way he futilely attempts to gather the broken pieces of himself.

But they're over and done with, Asano Gakushu repeats firmly to himself as he walks along the Kyoto streets, leaving behind the other Virtuosos. He'd waved them off, stating that he knew his way back. ("I'm not as foolish as those End Class scum to forget where the hotel is," he'd said with a smirk, to which his companions had laughed snidely.)

He can see students from all sections of Kunugigaoka walking along like he does, occasionally browsing the stalls and shops lining the streets. He continues on his way, before he abruptly stops just before a marker alongside the cement path as a sudden realization descends upon him.

He hasn't seen any of those 'End Class scum' for the entire day—and he's already been walking for several hours now. Gakushu frowns at the thought, furrowing his brow, as the implications of those students' disappearance from the usual sightseeing routes of Kyoto could mean anything, from taking a different path than the main building students due to other matters, to doing so because they were hiding a secret.

Something which isn't known to all but the Board Chairman and the End Class itself.

He shakes his head, then, and continues onward, glancing at the shops' display windows in idle contemplation. It's when he's walked a few meters from the marker that he halts just short of the window to a small, somewhat nondescript café.

She's sitting in a booth inside, across from who Gakushu can make out to be a tall, dark-haired male. Her azure eyes are bright, her lips pulled up into a grin he's missed for so long, and her cheeks seem to be dusted with a light blush.