Blades of Despair

-Chapter Twenty Two-

Exploring in Memoriam Part I

How long is this going to continue?

It was the morning after Edward's execution, and I had just woken up from a turbulent rest riddled with nightmares. I clutched at my head, which was throbbing from exhaustion and grief. I didn't want to get out of bed, but I didn't have a choice. I had to, because to get out of bed meant that I was still alive, and that's what we had to remind ourselves. We were still alive and fighting to survive, at the cost of four lives. We had already lost a quarter of our cohort to the cruelty of Seiko Academy's secret truth. And how many other secrets were lurking within with walls of the academy? How many of the students, like Edward, were hiding their own truths from the rest of us? An uneasy, doubtful feeling swelled and my headache worsened, making me audibly groan in frustration. I rolled over and picked up my Seiko-pad from the bedside table and checked the time. Five o'clock in the morning. I groaned again and threw my head back against my pillow, shutting my eyes tightly and willing myself to go back to sleep. I stayed like that for another few minutes, but I knew I wasn't going to succumb. My head was too frazzled, occupied with questions of doubt.

"This isn't going to solve anything," I said to myself. I wanted to scream into my pillow and cry, but I was too drained to even do that. I settled for going to the diner, so I changed into some clothes, pulled up my red hair into a lazy ponytail and stepped into the hallway. I knew it was still very risky to walk through the school at these early hours, but I was too tired to care. I almost mindlessly made my way to the dining hall, only coming to my senses when a rich, oily aroma filled my nostrils, a smell I recognised immediately. Why is someone cooking bacon at five in the morning? I guess Iowa couldn't sleep either. I walked through the diner and straight to the kitchen area; the scent of cooking meat caused my stomach to growl and I remembered I hadn't eaten in some time. I opened my mouth to greet Iowa, but my breath caught when I saw who the cook was.

Morino was stood at the gas stove, his trademark scowl etched onto his face as he awkwardly fumbled with a frying pan. He was wearing a green pinstriped apron on his front and had his hair slicked back. To the side of the stove, atop the kitchen counter were several plates covered in mountains of... charcoal? Then I realised that the piles of charcoal were in fact streaks of burned bacon - failed attempts at cooking. How long had he been cooking? I asked myself in disbelief.

"You're awake." I moved my attention away from the victims of Morino's cooking and to look at him.

"You're cooking."

"Yes."

"I didn't expect to find you here."

"You thought I was Iowa?"

"Yes."

"Hm." The conversation died, and we were silent for a few seconds.

"I think your bacon is burning again." His eyes widened very briefly and he hastily turned back to the meat, confusedly fiddling with the various gauges. The pan hissed and drips of fat flew at Morino, causing him to jump back. Flames cracked around the pan and I strolled over to the stove and turned it off. I turned to Morino and noticed that his apron was covered in honey-coloured splotches where fat had undoubtedly sprayed him from earlier attempts.

"I... have never cooked before," he admitted.

"And you chose to cook bacon?"

"People eat bacon in the mornings, don't they? I wanted to practice."

"Why didn't you ask Iowa?"

"I started at half past three. I don't think she was awake."

"Why are you even cooking?" a slight pink hue tinted his cheeks, but it was so faint I wouldn't have noticed it had he not tore his gaze away from mine.