Sayonara Zetsubou Sensei Fan Fiction / Mahou Shoujo Lyrical Nanoha Fan Fiction ❯ Contracts and Conspiracies ❯ Errors like this, I lack in my youth ( Chapter 2 )

“We would like to apologize to the readers for the sudden change in language last chapter,” Kafuka said to no one in particular as class started, “Chiri-chan is only passionate about purity of languages.”

 

Itoshiki Nozomu surveyed his class before him. Everything was back to normal; everyone was speaking English again. Everyone was seated in their seats, trademark stereotypes in action. Maria swinging from the lights; Meru on her mobile phone; Matoi stalking him from behind and the chain of stalkers taking up position around the class to obverse their targets. Everyone was ready for class, perhaps with the exception of Chiri who was gagged and bounded by his last remaining rope to the ceiling.

 

Her mouth was gagged so all Chiri could do was protest through muffled Japanese sounding shouts. Her face, flushed with anger and resistance as she wriggled unsuccessfully against the binding ropes.

 

Her struggles were in vain. Matoi was surprisingly skillful with the knowledge of tying people down with rope. Just look at all those crisscrossing of nylon, those tight knots that secured her limbs in place, that uncomfortable yet... interesting position his anal retentive student forced to be in, how her bodily assets seemed to be emphasized by the position of the ropes... There was something to it.

 

If only we can put a finger to what it reminds us of. But let us return to the main story.

 

A raised hand.

 

“Yes?”

 

“Brother Dear, are we waiting for the car carrying a twelve years old girl in laboratory uniform from America to crash through the window?” his sister, Itoshiki Rin, unrivaled mistress of excellence in all things asked.

 

There was a moment of pause as though everyone expected a violent protest against the narrative; such as a verbal rebuke or perhaps even the deliberate act of violence.

 

None came.

 

Not that it mattered, right?

 

Everyone looked towards the window.

 

Nothing. Just the peaceful scenery of whatever the studio traditionally used as the backdrop; not a single roar of a speeding, out-of-control car to be heard coming from afar.

 

“No, that plot device had been taken by Ansem for Scheme! last year. And despite popular demand, we are not expecting a twelve years old girl in laboratory uniform from America,” Nozomu said that without a pause. The engine of his mind was starting; having got someone to make a comment that could be further elaborated and twisted for maximum despair inducement.

 

If not for the fact that he was forbidden to show or create despair.

 

Ignoring the heartache and despair, Nozomu tried to fight back his urges to rant about 'inspiration' and originality or the lack of it for everything. The urge! The pain! He must fight it! Help is coming!

 

Oh for the sake of filler content, to hell with that.

 

Nozomu can deal with the consequences that come later.

 

“Why?!”

 

Placing his palm to his forehead and making a light turn of his head, befitting of the main fangirl-attracting anti-hero of the story, he gave a loud, exaggerated sigh.

 

“Why?!” Nozomu repeated himself with great despair in his voice, “Why is there an assumption that new characters must be introduced through loud, flashy manners such as crashing a car through the wall? That is a scene straight out of the first episode of Pani Poni Dash! Where is the originality in doing that?!”

 

“Some people might call it 'paying tribute to the source material'. Just like how we are talking about things that did not matter to the main story now,” Harumi, the resident fangirl protested against Teacher Despair's words, “We are doing so to pay tribute to the source material. The source material that gave us inspiration!”

 

She drew and sold fan doujins as her hobby. So that would probably make her an expert in fan works that 'pays tribute to the source material' and 'inspiration'.

 

“Heh,” Nozomu averted his eyes to look at the ground, “Inspiration, you say? I've heard of that excuse before.”

 

“If you get inspired, why do people not create new works but stay in the domain of fan works?” the teacher raised his voice for dramatic purposes, “Because we insist on inspiration and paying tribute, all we get are repeats! Repeats of previous works which are repeats of previous works! These are all repeats that claimed to be inspired!”

 

- Powerpuff Girls -> Demashitaa! Powerpuff Girls Z

- Yu-Gi-Oh -> Duel Masters

- Bush -> Bush

- Clinton -> Clinton

- Porn -> More Porn

- Saimoe -> Saimoe Korea -> Saimoe International -> Saimoe Galaxy

- 2chan -> 4chan -> 7chan -> 8chan -> 9chan -> 12chan -> 420chan -> over-9000chan -> ∞chan

 

“Despair! Copycats that insists on being tributes have left me in despair!” Nozomu wailed in heartfelt despair despite the dangers of being despaired.

 

“Look at Kudo-kun!” Jun, our talented story teller and yet another fangirl-bait took a moment out of reading his book when he heard his name mentioned. Then he returned to his book.

 

Nozomu continued, “He makes up his own original stories out of little, insignificant things! But it will touch and move our very souls and emotions!”

 

“You mean we should see things that did not exist in the first place?” There was a glint in Harumi's eyes as she looked from her classmate to her teacher. Then she started to laugh softly to herself as her imagination started sketch possible stories for future plot lines. For the sake of the ratings and this writer's sanity, her imagination would not be described but rest assured that it is vivid.

 

“Er. No,” Harumi's low laughter to herself was creeping Nozomu out, “I was saying that we should not repeat things that had be done before.”

 

With the substandard obligatory tribute to the series' mark of fame settled and behind us for now, the soft shuttering of helicopter blades could finally be heard from the distance.

 

Then it grew louder. And louder.

 

If you were to look out of the window now as the class of 2-A did, you would see the Black Hawk helicopter approaching threateningly from the distance. It is a beautiful machine, designed for sleekness and mobility, capable of both transport and fighting. Its black tinted windows made it hard to see who is inside but one can just make out an old adult figure piloting the helicopter and two smaller, children-sized figures behind him.

 

Of course, as mesmerizing a sight as an incoming Black Hawk can be, with its machine gun turrets, howitzers and perhaps one of those awesome guns with rotatory barrels that fire hell-lot of bullets within a single second all targeted ahead, it is never a good idea to be in its path. Especially if there was only windows and a single wall in between you and the black flying machine of destruction and pure awesome.

 

In fact, hear it from the writer, it might be a good idea to get out of the way.

 

A VERY good idea to get out of the way.

 

Like now.

 

As the black hawk loomed closer with no sign of slowing down, realization slowly dawned to the class of 2-A that just because it was ranted that crashing a vehicle is too commonly used as a plot device, it did not mean that the writer would not use it. He simply upgraded the vehicle for impact.

 

A mad scramble ensured to get as far away from the incoming helicopter as possible. Gruesome deaths might not occur in a 'T' rated fanfiction but grievous body harm is certainly still fair game. Yet, it would not be wise if hospitalization resulted in less screen time for the injured character. You never know when you need to invoke their presence for plot devices.

 

The Black Hawk smashed through the wall without a care for underpaid, neglected characters, reducing the wall to smithereens. Wooden splinters, sawdust and glass fragments scattered across the room, by the will of the writer miraculously missing every single character; leaving none the worse but a little dirty from the ensuring dust clouds and in the case of Kaere, upside down and providing this fanfiction with her obligatory but unviewable panties flash.

 

“Good job, Sameshima! Great impact!”

 

Someone spoke with pride through the dust curtain. A high, sprightly voice fit for a young lady used to having all her whims and needs catered to her in a silver spoon. As the class finally staggered unsteadily back to their feet to the backdrop of Ai's continuous sermon of “It is my fault; I'm sorry.”, they could make out two short figures step lightly out of the helicopter and into the wreckage.

 

The young girl stepped out first, sweeping up sawdust with her confident strident steps. With a flick of her long, waist-length dirty blond hair and giving her white outfit a dust, she extruded an air of a well-to-do lady, proud and self-assured. In one gloved hand, she held a long wooden broomstick; the other hand, she gestured to her partner in crime.

 

The boy hopped off the helicopter next, landing on his feet softly. A long staff with a knob at its end was slung at his back with a strap. Slouching slightly with a look of rude defiance, the boy with his uncombed blond hair was dressed in a dark robe fit for a Halloween fancy dress party. The young, grouchy 'wizard' took a long, drawn-out look around the wrecked room as the dust curtain settled before giving the dazed audience a quick bow.

 

The girl stood forward haughtily and slammed the end of her broom on the ground beside her. That garnered the attention of the audience. With a bright, enthusiastic smile, she said loudly:

 

“Did somebody call for the Agency?”

 

- - - - - - - - - - - -

 

No one replied, Gabriel noticed cautiously. Everyone was just staring at them dumbfounded, as though their entrance had outdone anything they have expected. Looking around and taking mental notes of the damage,he had to admit that Arisa's idea of a loud, flashy entrance was too much. There was no stopping the tomboy once she had her ideas. He would have to repair and return everything to their original state later.

 

The students stared for a minute. Then a growing undercurrent of murmuring and activity started.

 

So this is when the pouncing and loud squeals of delight from teenage girls starts. Gabriel prepared himself. That was what will usually happen as far as his research gone. Children trying to do adult occupations such as school teachers get pounced and snuggled by teenagers.

 

“Who are the two of you?”

 

A perfectly normal question to ask in a situation like this; even if it was to a certain extent, disappointing. Knowing that Arisa will answer it with her pompous manner, Gabriel took a glance towards the girl who had asked the question. The looks just as you expect from an older teenage girl, quite normal.

 

“And don't call me normal!”

 

What? What's with the outburst? Arisa recoiled in surprise, unsure what to reply. Not that they actually called her normal; they simply thought she was quite normal.

 

“I know you are thinking that I am normal! I don't want to be normal!” The nor... really there is not other way to put it, normal girl protested against her label.

 

The confused look on Arisa confirmed that she had the same suspicions as him. Gabriel tried to sense for any magic in the air. Perhaps these students were psychics. Mind reading was quite an advanced form of magic. It was not easy even with the PSI users in Eagleland.

 

He could not detect any magic. How could non-magical humans read their mind? It was that or there were other forces masking the magical presence. At the back of his mind, he also tried to add other adjectives to his image of the girl other than normal. Average? Typical? Plain perhaps? In a good kind of way.

 

Before he could collect his thoughts, the rest of the class broke up into an uproar. A barrage of questions, hostile threats of lawsuits, endless streams of apologies and for no reason, even a strain of a rather touching and engaging story involving dust mites in the background.

 

“Are you sure this is the right school?” Gabriel whispered to Arisa over the noise, “The students seem quite... unusual.” Save for the normal one, of course.

 

“I think so... Sameshima was certain that the school address was correct. But the school's name...,” Arisa replied, casting a suspicious eye at the seemingly hostile class. She was no longer acting sure or confident. And Gabriel noticed, she was standing to back away slowly towards the helicopter.

 

A tug at his long sleeves caught his attention. One of the students, a short young girl with her hair secured cutely in twin ponytails. With a cute squeak of fear, she thrust her mobile phone in their direction. There was a line of numbers on the screen.

 

“You want us to send you a message?” Arisa asked kindly, affected by the childish charm of the girl who hardly look older than them.

 

A weak nod followed by a shy, constrained squeak.

 

Arisa whipped out her own mobile phone and quickly typed a simple message for the girl. The girl received it happily and gave a satisfied smile. Then she began to type a message in reply.

 

Soon, Arisa's mobile phone buzzed with receiving a new message. Your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries. Arisa's smile quickly became a scowl.

 

With another squeak of fear, the mobile message insulter was caught by steaming Arisa and was soundly shouted and raved at by her captor. Before she noticed it, Arisa had became part of the racket in the ruined class.

 

Ignoring his hot-tempered god-sibling's argument with the small insulter, Gabriel looked upwards to see the dark-skinned child swinging happily on the helicopter blades of their Black Hawk without a care. He then looked away out of politeness when he realized that he could see her panties.

 

Another sight from above drew him. Why did they have a tied up girl hung from the ceiling? The attractive girl with perfectly parted hair was obviously uncomfortable in that position, struggling against the gag in her mouth. And the method which she was tied up... Gabriel looked to the ground uncomfortably. What kind of school was this?

 

Obviously they must be at the wrong place. Perhaps this was an asylum. It was obviously not Suzuki Shoten High School. It was named Komicer High School outside. The 'High School' must be a red herring to keep these strange people in.

 

However it would still be prudent to make a final confirmation. Arisa was too caught up with her one-sided argument with the small student. He would have to do it himself. To think that Arisa, his self-proclaimed 'elder sister' was the initiator of this whole business. The time could have been so better well spent on his journeys.

 

With a depressed sigh, Gabriel straightened up and shouted his question over the din.

 

“We are sorry for our entrance. We are looking for a Mr. Itoshiki. Is he here?”

 

The din stopped immediately, bringing the classroom into another awkward silence while the strange ensemble of teenagers stared at the young, foreign boy before them. Then they all pointed in unison towards the man in old-fashioned Japanese wear lying face down directly before him.

 

- - - - - - - - - - - -

 

Just play dead.

 

He had ranted about his despair.

 

A helicopter armed with heavy weaponry, including one of those awesome guns with rotatory barrels that fire hell-lot of bullets within a single second arrived to wreck havoc into his class.

 

It must be them!

 

Them!

 

They are out to get him!

 

Maybe if he just play dead, they would leave him for now.

 

With that in mind, Nozomu shut his eyes tightly and stayed in his position on the ground. The descending sawdust coated the floor and his body in a fine layer. It made breathing difficult, especially if you were trying to play dead.

 

With luck, he would suffocate to death and end his miserable, depressing life once and for all.

 

And so, he laid there, face down and his eyes closed, trying to play dead while also trying to inhale as much dust as possible by breathing deeply.

 

Someone touched him on his shoulders and shook it lightly.

 

“Excuse me. Are you Mr. Itoshiki?” the youthful voice asked politely.

 

Just play dead. Nozomu tried to calm his frayed nerves while he maintained his undignified position. The dust was starting to irritate his nose.

 

More shaking. More aggressive too.

 

“Mr. Itoshiki? I can feel you breathing. I know you are conscious.” The voice was getting an annoyed edge to it. Was that a slight tint of despair he could sense from the voice?

 

Don't respond. Stay still and maybe they will leave.

 

“Let me help you,” a familiar dangerously positive voice offered cheerfully.

 

Before he could react to his tingling sense of danger, he felt a sharp kick to his hips. With an unwilling yelp of pain, Nozomu sucked in the thin coat of dust and sprung up into a sitting position.

 

Gagging and coughing, he looked up to Kafuka's blissfully innocent face.

 

“What if I had really died?!”

 

Kafuka smiled back at Teacher Despair. Innocent. Cheerful. Optimistic. Revealing nothing of guilt or sorry. Her dangerous optimism was as socially defensive and hard to penetrate a layer as his own suicidal pessimism.

 

Then with a building sense of dread, he turned to face his would-be captors.

 

Children. Barely teenagers. Blond. The boy with a staff (with a knob at its end) and the girl a broomstick. A look of frustration, annoyance and despair on their faces.

 

Something else registered in his mind.

 

Foreigners!

 

They are here to sue him!

 

“Are you Mr. Itoshiki?” The boy asked while the girl fumed impatiently behind.

 

“It was not me who picked up the five yen along the road and spent it as loose change for a new piece of rope two weeks, one day, three hours, forty minutes and twenty-three seconds ago!” He tried to scramble away. Unsuccessfully.

 

The girl had positioned herself between him and the exit. Meru was whimpering pitifully in the glowering girl's arms, fearful even if not repentant. Her message to him was clear.

 

Don't try.

 

“I take that as a 'yes',” the boy sighed unhappily, “We are from the Bannings Agency. The one who called yesterday.”

 

“Oh,” Nozomu stared at them suspiciously, “I will not be sued?”

 

The children gave each other confused looks, as though they were arguing between themselves before the boy finally looked back to him. “If you want to be sued, we can easily arrange for it to happen...” the boy answered slowly and uncertainly, looking at Nozomu for a reaction.

 

“We are the Agency. We will get anything done for you. Nothing too difficult for us to do,” the girl interjected, releasing Meru from her arms. His shy but foul-electronic tongued student took the chance to quickly slip away. The foreign girl did not bother about her escaping captive but continued to address Nozomu.

 

“You called us yesterday. Said you had a job for us. So what will it be?”

 

Oh. Yes. Them. The two children featured on the pamphlet. They were going to meet him. From his position, Nozomu studied them. They did not look that dangerous. He was Teacher Despair of Class 2-A after all. He was used to being with dangerous characters. It was a really depressing job which was why he needed his summer vacation. They were to be his answer to the problem.

 

He was expecting two children to solve his problem.

 

To get the ministry and the higher ups off his back.

 

To save summer for everyone.

 

Two foreign children.

 

Don't panic. Don't despair. You never know what those foreigners can achieve. Especially since she had said that they can get anything done. Nothing too difficult.

 

He had dismissed it before but they were really young, weren't they. It made him wonder under what kind of strange, tragic, despair-inducing (and interestingly 'delicious') circumstances did they meet and came to be like so. Errors like these, he certainly did not have in his youth.

 

There was something about them. Something out of place. These two children did not belong. Youth was not the problem; it was something else. He could not catch it but whatever it was... it was making him uneasy in ways worse than a lawyer can. The staff and the broomstick they wield made him jittery. They seemed to believe in magic. Like all those pretty photoshopped image that grace the pamphlet.

 

Magic. A convenient answer to everything.

 

Need to find a dropped pencil? Magic. Need to ace an exam? Magic. Need an ice cream? Magic. Save a life? Magic? It can replace hard work and effort. It takes the miracle out of miracles. A solve-all solution that takes away the importance and meaning of everything else.

 

Most depressing.

 

And if he wanted more time to contemplate and wallow in despair on this depressing issue, he would have to hope for the best. Hope for the chance that he had to despair without interference. No point wasting despair for the lack of chance to despair.

 

Plus, they're only children. And those long, blunt objects they carried were most likely only props. There was no point in crushing the magic of childhood. He still remembered the day he learnt too much about Santa Claus. Years of innocent childhood filled with magic and hopes were crushed like a can under someone's foot. Mercilessly stepped, crushed and disposed of. And not recycled too.

 

Magic never existed.

 

Only despair did. And the higher ups threatened that now.

 

“Yes, yes. I am Itoshiki, the one who called for your service,” Nozomu answered between gags. The dust that still refuse to end his life irritated his throat instead; a most uncomfortable situation between surviving the dusty suicide attempt and dying from it.

 

“What's with Komicer High School? You told us Suzuki Shoten High School,” the boy questioned.

 

“Naming rights. It is all part of the grand scheme where everything could be renamed and principles changed as long as enough money is paid,” Nozomu explained, “Due to time constraint, watch season one episode one to get the full rant.”

 

“What?”

 

The children looked confused. His students did not. They understood to varying extents. Surveying his class, Nozomu could make out the damage and racket the two contract agents had caused. The few and more important students who had been named by the mangaka were in no ready state for class.

 

The usual din could be heard. Surely if Chiri was free, and she was not, she would be in a fuss and greatly bothered by the lack of order. Some students had come to surround their Teacher Despair and the new arrivals. Some students had gathered around the crashed Black Hawk, poking and observing it like curious scientists or military geeks. Kino, Mitama, Okusa and some others. Most of them asking about the awesome gun with rotatory barrels that fire hell-lot of bullets within a single second. A tall, middle-aged man dressed like a butler was trying to keep them away from the landed helicopter. Reflections from his thinly-framed glasses obscured his eyes and his gray-silver mustache like his neatly-combed hair gave him an air of solid reliability. A perfect example of a combat butler.

 

In stereotypical terms, he would have a dark history which might involve the military, spy-noir background, blazing guns, such as the awesome gun with rotatory barrels that fire hell-lot of bullets within a single second and a beautiful but deadly lady. All to the alluring tempo of jazz.

 

But that is not the story for this time.

 

Something that Nozomu noticed was that only one wall was destroyed or broken. Quite an obvious observation one might say but significant for this story. Only one single wall was broken by these young contract agents, let alone four walls.

 

It might take some time before they would break the fourth wall.

 

“Nevermind,” Nozomu stood up, brushing away the suicide-unworthy dust from his hakama, “Would you mind if you take a seat at the side first while I have a class to teach?”

 

Another glance of understanding between the two (they seem to do that a lot) before they retreated to be back of the class to wait for the end. Both of them leaning against the wall, watching the proceedings of the class with a skeptical look on their face. They reminded Nozomu of the occasional class observers sent by the Ministry, dedicated to ruining his career of teaching by distracting him and criticizing his every actions. A most depressing thought.

 

It took long before order was restored to the class. As much order as there could be with two children trying to act older than they were behind them, a Black Hawk crashed through the outer wall of the room and the awesomeness of the awesome gun with rotatory barrels that fire hell-lot of bullets within a single second in the room. Or at least, just enough for the day's lesson of despair to proceed since this was Class 2-A after all. There was no such thing as order in this class.

 

And when class finally ended, there was the usual exodus of students from the class. Hurried farewells and swift exits from the class. Everyone making their way back home having completed yet another despair-enlightened day, courtesy of Teacher Despair. Save for the exception of Kiri who had made the school her home, Matoi who was dedicated to shadow him and the permanent chain of stalkers behind him of course. And who knows who else decided to stay back for the day.

 

The expressions on the two children throughout the class had been most interesting and quite indescribable. It changed as the class progressed. Unbelieving to mild disgust to somewhat interested to 'what-kind-of-deep-trouble-have-I-gotten-into'. But they did not say anything yet; they just watched.

 

With most of the homeward students homeward bound, Nozomu finally turned towards his contract agents with a weakly optimistic sigh.

 

“We can now talk about why I need you here,” Nozomu said, ready to tell them about the situation and what he wanted them to accomplished. If what the girl had said so confidently, 'We will get anything done for you' was true, then any price would be worthwhile for a good summer break full of quiet despair and deliberately unsuccessful suicide attempts. He could afford it; the Itoshiki family was one of the most powerful rich families around Japan.

 

“Later. We need to repair this room first,” the boy did not even look up to Nozomu as he looked around the ruined room instead. As for the girl, she was already getting the combat butler of theirs to unload luggage after luggage from the helicopter. When everything was uploaded and the girl nodded in satisfaction, the butler boarded the helicopter and lifted off, flying the slick beautiful war machine with the awesome gun with rotatory barrels that fire hell-lot of bullets within a single second into the sunset.

 

Then Nozomu, along with all the stalkers behind him, was unceremoniously kicked out of his own classroom.

 

- - - - - - - - - - - -

 

As Gabriel calculated the alchemic formula required to undo all the damage to the classroom, he resisted the urge to snigger or to say, “I told you so.” So he made do with a knowing smirk, knowing full well that Arisa would be fuming in extreme vexation.

 

“Go ahead. Go ahead and laugh,” his impatient god-sibling said in defeat as she kicked the debris into a pile near the hole.

 

“I thought you would have exploded and left in a huff,” Gabriel said, still not laughing although his smirk just got wider, “He is quite an interesting teacher if very, very strange.”

 

“I still can do so,” Arisa replied darkly while she knelt down behind him. Their employer's nonsense was not something that she would take lightly. “But a job is a job. It is still our first contract. We could not just walk out of it.”

 

“We have not even hear what he wanted yet,” Gabriel stated as he fished out the chalk from his robe to start drawing the alchemic circle on the floor. Mr. Itoshiki's lesson was interesting; enlightening even. Unlike the rest of the class, Nozomu was not insane. He was beyond sane; he was knurd.

 

He could see the truth beyond the layer of simple ignorance people tend to maintain. He looked through that defensive layer and saw how the world truly was. It brought much despair as the teacher was fond of saying but it was true knowledge and understanding. It certainly did reinforce his opinion of the world.

 

Given the chance, he would like to hear and learn more from Mr. Itoshiki.

 

“Anyway, I think they are not aware of magic or its real existence,” Gabriel finally completed the reconstruction alchemic circle on the floor and pocketed the chalk, “I think we should try to avoid performing magic before them. And we should change to a more normal outfit to blend in later.” He had heard that magic users who exposed themselves to civilians could be punished by forced transformation to various animals.

 

The idea of being furry did not appeal to him. It would certainly bring despair to him. That was why he had kicked the teacher out of the classroom first before they perform the reconstruction alchemy to repair the damages.

 

Arisa nodded silently beside him.

 

After giving the circle a check for possible errors, the alchemist brought his hands together with a clap and then touched the side of the circle. Instantly, the circle begun to glow magically as the pieces of the debris started to return to position. The destroyed wall was rebuilding itself, bit by bit; closing the gapping hole left by their crashing Black Hawk.

 

When the circle finally stopped glowing, the wall was as good as new. The windows might have taken a more fancy, gothic design due to Gabriel's taste and influence but generally, the wall was back. It was time to turn their attention to the rest of the classroom.

 

There was a muffled gasp of surprise from behind. To be precise, somewhere two o'clock from their back.

 

The reaction, honed from years of experience and training, was instantaneous. Gabriel's wand was whipped out from the dark recesses of his robe and pointed threateningly towards whoever had been watching them, ready to fire off an offensive spell immediately. Arisa did not have a wand; she knew magic but she was not exactly a witch. Her katana was already unsheathed from its broomstick disguise and too directed at the one behind them.

 

Or at least, tied up in an uncomfortable but very interesting position from the ceiling behind them.

 

He had completely forgotten about the hung girl from the ceiling. Or rather, it was something that he willed himself into not seeing. Yet now, with the timely reminder of her hanging presence, the sight of the attractive girl tied and left hanging on the ceiling was not something he could tear his eyes from. It causes reaction in him.

 

And now, she had seen the alchemic transformation. Watched it with eyes wide opened with wonder and surprise. She might not understand the implications of it but she would know what it was. Her mouth might be gagged but it did not take much to imagine what she might want to say...

 

“Oh damn,” Gabriel cursed.

 

- - - - - - - - - - - -

 

Arisa simply stared at the sight before/above her with her mouth gapping, unsure of what to say. The class had been quite a wonder, a surprise on how a group of extremely dysfunctional teenagers could or could not function together, in a bad kind of way.

 

Yet, that.

 

That girl hung from the ceiling just took the cake. Not to mention the method which she was tied up. It was most interesting... interesting enough to get Arisa flustered. And she questioned herself once again, just as Gabriel had questioned too: Just what kind of school was this?

 

Gabriel closed his eyes briefly and started to mumble a couple of unintelligible latin. All the while keeping his wand pointed directly at the female student. The girl seemed to understand the implications of his actions and hung her head down in silence, closing her eyes in anticipation.

 

Reacting on instinct, Arisa swiftly delivered a blow towards her god-brother's arm, just as a bright stream of light blasted from the wand. With a cry of pain, Gabriel lost his aim and the magical beam was diverted away, missing his target and hitting the ceiling to the left of her instead. Where the beam hit, there was a burst of debris and a slight depression left.

 

“Why did you do that?” the boy growled angrily, raising his wand hand again.

 

“Stop it!” Arisa pushed Gabriel's aim away, “Are you trying to kill her?”

 

That stopped him. For a moment, there was a haunted look in his eyes before he reasserted control.

 

“It's only a memory erasion spell,” came the quiet, weak protest.

 

“Sure did cause a hole in the ceiling,” came the retort. Arisa released her grip on Gabriel's arm and strode towards the hung girl.

 

“The spell was not exactly designed for non-living things... hey!” Gabriel jogged towards his god-sibling.

 

Arisa was already piling up tables and chairs to reach the girl. Upon seeing Arisa drawing her katana, the girl's struggle became more violent and more frantic.

 

“Oh, keep still,” Arisa muttered before she addressed Gabriel, “Get ready to catch her.” Then with a smooth swipe, she sliced the rope that attached the girl to the ceiling.

 

The girl fell with a muffled scream.

 

And she never hit ground.

 

As Arisa jumped down her impromptu furniture structure, she could see the small pendant on Gabriel's wrist glowing brightly as a small but strong circular wind current stopped the girl's fall and brought her down slowly and safely. When the girl was finally touched ground, Arisa removed the gag from her mouth.

 

ã©ã†ã—ã¦- was the first thing the girl said in a tone of surprise and annoyance. She cleared her throat, then she asked again,

 

“Why? Why did you not blast me and release me?”

 

The girl with perfectly parted hair had a look of frustration and anger as she said that.

 

“Because I don't want to,” Arisa replied as she moved her attention to releasing her from the bonding ropes. Sliced ropes and knots fell to the floor as the younger girl made delicate, careful cuts.

 

“Because she don't want to,” Gabriel replied at the same time. He was watching her actions warily with his fingers twitching in readiness. He would fire at any wrong move.

 

When freed, the older girl massaged her hands and stood up, eying the two children carefully.

 

“Then I will have to go running out of the room, screaming about the sights I have just seen,” she stated as though it was the thing to do.

 

“We are going to have to erase your memories before you do so then,” Gabriel aimed his wand again.

 

The girl made no attempt to run or escape.

 

“No!” Arisa quickly placed herself before both of them, “We can't do that!”

 

“No, I insist. It is the only proper thing to do,” the girl behind her stated evenly, with not an ounce of fear in her.

 

“See? Even she,” Gabriel re-aimed his wand, “agrees with me. It had to be done.”

 

“No!” Arisa went towards Gabriel and led him away, speaking softly into his ears, “Remember all those research you have done about the spell? Many people had said it was a faulty spell. And all those potential side effects too.”

 

Gabriel grimaced in reluctant agreement. Side effects may include permanent memory loss, mini explosions or dissipation of all clothings.

 

“You two are the contract agents Teacher Itoshiki hired,” the fearless girl stated, “Magical contract agents... It might just work.”

 

“Look, just try to forget what you saw,” Arisa said, “You do not want us to use that spell.”

 

“Civilians cannot find out about magic,” the girl replied coldly, “If you do not cast that memory spell on me, you must do the next proper thing. You must trail me and make sure I do not reveal your secret.”

 

Both god-siblings stared at the girl they had just freed. Did she just ordered them to do something?

 

“I don't think you have any lodgings yet. You will insist that you want to use my home as your base,” the girl continued, “You will use this as a pretense to trail me and ensure my silence. I might occasionally let slip something and you will have to try and stop me.”

 

“No, it's really not necessary...” Gabriel started.

 

“You must do the proper thing!” the girl stressed sharply, “I might protest but you will have to insist and I will have no choice but to relent.”

 

“Uhm, We are satisfied as long as you promise to keep silence,” Arisa said hesitantly at the straight-forward girl.

 

“No! You will do the proper thing!” she repeated herself, louder and with more emphasis as she took a step closer to the children, “or else.” She spoke that softly but it was creepy enough to send chills to Arisa and Gabriel.

 

They drew towards each other, starting to feel fearful of the girl terrorizing them. They could even sense the dark, threatening aura arising from around her. Arisa was starting to regret stopping Gabriel. That must have been the reason why she was binded away from the rest of the strange class. They had just released a dangerous demon.

 

“Eerr...” Gabriel hazarded a reply, “We will need to keep you under observation until we deem you clear and safe to our interest?”

 

The girl smiled in satisfied sinisterness before the dark aura of danger around the girl disappeared abruptly. A look of uncertainty, confusion and fear replaced the evil smile.

 

“Really?,” she whimpered genuinely, “You are sparing me?”

 

Great. Now everyone in the class was truly and definitely insane. They could only hope that the mission to come was not something insane. Or at least not too insane.

 

“We will need to use your house. You got no choice,” Arisa played along in the most confident voice she could muster, “We will move in later today.”

 

“Thank you. Thank you,” the girl groveled most realistically, “I am Kitsu Chiri. You are most welcome to my humble abode.”

 

- - - - - - - - - - - -

 

Nozomu waited outside his classroom, waving goodbye and giving more choice advice of despair to the few stragglers.

 

There was nothing else to do. Everyone had left for home. So he waited more.

 

Then he paced in circles. Because that was what to be expected in waiting scenes. His stalkers followed closely behind him like a game of chicken-and-eagle.

 

Then he despaired at his conformation to stock stereotypical waiting scenes.

 

Then he despaired for this writer who seemed to be running out of ideas for conforming to the stock scenes of despair.

 

Then he paced in more circles because he wanted to.

 

Various sounds could be heard from inside the classroom. Unnatural sounds. Low grinding and rumbling.

 

Better not investigate. Ignorance is bliss. There is a saying that the more you know, the more you realize that you do not know. So in theory, in the logical reversal of the saying: the less you know, the more you will know. So the one who knows less, knows more.

 

Thus, it is always better not to know.

 

Chiri's sharp, penetrating voice could be held from inside now. The children must have freed her. Nozomu briefly wondered how the foreign children will cope with a fanatic Japanese-speaking teenager who insist on proper deeds and following the line.

 

There was a switch in Chiri's tone. Softer. Harder to catch. Very unlike Chiri.

 

After a while, the door finally opened and the two agents he hired stepped out. Both agents looked evidently tired out and somewhat twitchy. Behind them followed an uncharacteristically humble Chiri. Speaking in English. Not Japanese.

 

Even the story has yet to switch to the Japanese text that Mediaminer cannot render properly (which thus ruined the final punchline for chapter one there).

 

“Why not Japanese now?” Nozomu leaned forward to whisper to Chiri.

 

“They are non-Japanese. It is only polite and proper to communicate with them so,” his fussy student replied, breaking back into character before returning to the out-of-character, fearful act.

 

Nozomu peeked into his classroom.

 

As good as new.

 

The stage-crew sure worked fast this time.

 

“We will be using Kitsu-san's home as our base for now,” Arisa, evidently the more dominant of the two, said tiredly, worn out by their close encounter with the unreasonable type, “Can we hear about your issue?”

 

Nozomu nodded as he led everyone to his office. Two agents too young. One student too neurotic. One stalker too clingy. And the entire chain of stalkers too stalker-ly. Just more additions to his usual entourage.

 

- - - - - - - - - - - -

 

As he followed the teacher to his office, Gabriel took note of the structure of the school. He took note of the route between the classroom to the office. He took note of the various personalities they past. Most importantly, he took note of the many followers behind them, shuffling and doing a bad job in concealing themselves from detection.

 

Before him, Nozomu just kept walking; oblivious or ignoring his pack of stalkers. The only other person who seemed aware of the many pathetic stalkers behind them was Arisa who kept looking back.

 

There was something wrong with this place.

 

He could just sense it.

 

Nozomu stopped and opened a sliding door. They had reached the office. An absolutely normal office if not for the mysterious, blanket-huddling girl with a supernatural aura around her siting in the corner of an otherwise unoccupied room. The members of the school greeted her and then treated her as yet another fixture of the room.

 

Just another one of the strange things in this school.

 

Gabriel let everyone, or rather, everyone he knew to be 'safe' into the room before slamming the door on the chain of stalkers. Then he went to take up seat.

 

Nozomu spoke, or rambled most enlighteningly about his despair. About everything that had taken place so far, from his capture by “higher-ups” (and this he said in a low, hush voice) to the order to conduct summer school. From the vehement protests from his students to the decision.

 

It was filled with wise insights and fitting analogies about society, the world and humanity. Everything was flawed and everyone was guilty in one way or another. It was almost a speech worth applauding.

 

“And so, I need you two to get us out,” Nozomu finally concluded.

 

“What again?” It was Arisa.

 

“I do not want to hold summer school since I intend to return to my family home. My students all have other plans for themselves and thus do not wish to attend summer school. We want you to get us out of summer school.”

 

Gabriel looked towards Arisa for her opinion. Her mouth was gap open, her eyes wide with disbelief and irateness.

 

Having no answer, Nozomu continued, “I need time to think about life. To despair over the tragic events that had occurred to all of us. I cannot do that if I need to conduct summer school.”

 

Trying to keep her voice under control, Arisa spoke tensely while still maintaining an edge of irateness.

 

“And that is why you hired us, contract agents? To get you out of teaching summer school?”

 

“Yes.”

 

There was when Gabriel noticed the tiny spark of flame at his god-sibling's trembling shoulder. His hot-tempered god-sister would not hold her temper for much longer. There was only so much ludicrousy she should take.

 

“Mr. Itoshiki, is that seriously all to why you need us here?”

 

“Yes.”

 

And everyone else in the room, other than the two of them, nodded in agreement.

 

And that was when Arisa exploded.

 

- - - - - - - - - - - -

 

An illuminated screen was the only source of light in the dark room. Numbers and words that did not mean anything to anyone were the only things that graced the screen. The purpose of the screen was only to illuminate and to look impressive. It cost the organization a million dollars to install it and had it show interesting, complicated stuffs on it. Nothing else.

 

After all, in this world of utter, dastardy villainy, what matters most was style. The occasional success was nice but how else could one better show off to another evil genius than having the darkest room with the most illuminating of screens.

 

There was a single round table in the center of the room and seated around it, many dark figures. The glowing green light from the illuminating screen casted all their masks with the color of green. It was quite disturbing. And the strange stench that plagued the room did not improve matters.

 

Not that the dark figures looked bothered. Assuming we can see their bothered looks through the darkness and behind those soulless masks.

 

The first one stood up and started to speak in a grave, booming voice that allowed us to identify this character as the mayor or grave booming voiceâ„¢ from chapter one that tormented Nozomu with his unreasonably optimistic order.

 

“Is everything going according to plan?”

 

The second figure stood up. His voice somewhat sissy like but able to switch to a deep, stoic one.

 

“They have established contact with each other. The exchange will take place soon.”

 

The rest of the dark figures clapped in approval. They looked burly, well trained and evil. Really evil. Some of them scare little children and kick cute fluffy kittens for a living and for fun. No doubt one of them would be highly adept in the art of silence. The 'silencer' as we had called him in chapter one.

 

However, who really played which role in chapter one was not really important. Unless revealed or hinted, neither were their names or physical characteristics important now. They are all interchangeable to the whims and fancies of this writer. All we need to know for now was that we are in the middle of a really evil meeting organization by a really evil group.

 

Someone who had evidently read before coming for the evil meeting asked.

 

“Did the girl really exploded? Itoshiki did not die since we are talking about him now but him being seriously injured would put a spanner towards the... conspiracy!”

 

And they all faced towards an imaginary camera to whisper loudly, “Conspiracy!” placing much emphasis on the hissing part of “cy”. All part of being really evil.

 

“No,” a really familiar silhouette answered, “Although it would make a really fine scene with the fire and all, the writer only meant 'exploded' metaphorically. To be more precise, Arisa lost her temper and started shouting loudly. Itoshiki ranted and groveled in despair. Gabriel had to calm her down and speak many things to her which we did not know for now. Then they agreed to do the mission of 'getting them out of summer school' provided that Itoshiki did something first.”

 

It was too early to give the game away on the identity of our really familiar silhouette but he or she (aha! You think I will make a revealing mistake here?) had a center parted hairstyle.

 

“Itoshiki is to follow his orders and really act positive for one day. Which I think fell perfectly into plan, since it will only induce more despair from him. To our benefit and to the... conspiracy!”

 

“Conspiraccccyyyy!”

 

The day of living positively. It had a nice ring to it even if it did not sound particularly evil. It would make a nice sounding chapter title and fit with the over plan according to the murmurs of the evil unidentified villains in this evil meeting.

 

“It will not be long, desu,” a random someone spoke, sounding horribly evil by tagging all his sentences with one of the most evil of all Wapanese words, “We have waited for four years to do this, desu. Soon the plan shall succeed, desu.”

 

“Yes, nano desu,” another spoke, not to be outdone in evilness, “All their bases will belong to us, nano desu.”

 

Then the evil meeting finally concluded to assiduous applause, sinister sniggering, lengthy laughter, copious clapping, erratum alliteration, nyoron, ugu, kamo, de gozaru, nano and desu.

 

Ladies and gentlemen, the conspiracy has only just begun.