Apr. 29th, 2016

tentaculled: ([shinigami] tentacriticize)
[personal profile] tentaculled
[ It's less painful than he was expecting - that's his first thought. Hundreds - no, thousands of times, he's watched the life leave people's bodies, watched the light leave their eyes, and so he thought he had a good idea of what to expect. There was no fear or resignation as he laid there, surrounded by his students, the weight of Nagisa's body pushing down on his chest. Just the feeling of being tired, and an unusual sense of peace. They'd all come so far; they'd more than exceeded his expectations. He was proud. Terribly proud.

It happens so quickly that he hardly feels the knife piercing through. Yes, it's certainly less painful than he was expecting - physically. But there's a bittersweet ache in his heart that's not coming from any blade. The students are crying. This is goodbye.

And so it was.

Nothingness. Then, the feeling of drifting ashore, or perhaps being pulled, or being dizzy - it's difficult to describe, in no small part because he does not expect there to be anything to describe. There's grass pushing at his back again, orange light filtering through his eyelids. He feels small and light and numb. Ah, surely, this is a hallucination in his last moments, or perhaps he'll wake up and see fires burning and punishment waiting for him, as he no doubt deserves. But when he forces his eyes open with difficulty, all that's waiting for him is a familiar dusky sky, and a familiar mountainous horizon, and a familiar early-morning dewy haze. It's Kunigagaoka. There's no way he'd forget this sight.

There's been some kind of mistake. At first, he wonders if he somehow failed to die. When he climbs to his feet and notices that they are, in fact, feet, and finds himself swimming in a now-baggy graduation robe, he wonders if he really is hallucinating. The students are nowhere to be seen, but it appears a few hours have passed since they finally graduated from hiss classroom. None of it makes any sense. But the tranquility he felt earlier as he lay in his final moments hasn't left him yet. Inside, he thinks, he knows that it's over. It's not worth panicking about. He turns towards the dilapidated old school building. His fingers (fingers! so strange and new, suddenly) squeeze the fabric of that floppy old tie, finding the new tear in the fabric. Without putting much thought into it, he starts moving towards the classroom building, drawn towards it like a magnet. It's natural. It's the place where he belongs. The home he was given.

If he could, he'd like to see them just one more time. He doesn't dare hope for more than that. ]


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