Wounds

"What a drag..." I thought, sitting in a Student Council meeting I’m forced to attend these days. Finances this, student body that… blah. Everyone here is so stupid, it makes me want to hurl.

All of them trying to live up to other’s expectations…something I gave up a while ago. It makes me sick that I was like this. Everyone on this plane of existence strives to live up to expectations whether they know it or not. No, I’m doing this for me. Right. That’s why you look into the mirror thirty times in a ten-minute window. No, I’m just thinking about my future. Of course, that’s why you study yourself sick while you proudly show of your intelligence to your friends, family, girlfriend even. Everyone's fake it makes me sick.

Before I realized it, I was snapped out of my thoughts by a sharp flick on the forehead. My eyes shot open, and I rubbed the spot, a frown forming as I saw Haniuda staring at me with a raised eyebrow. „Did you just seriously fall asleep in my meeting?” She asked

"Did I?" I smirked, my tone dripping with smugness. Annoying her was pretty fun. Watching her nose crunch is actually kind of cute? What am I saying? Anyways of course this earned me a slap on the chest which I could endure but then she spoke again „You are joining the Fencing Class. Every Student Council member is required to attend.”

„No.” was all I answered, and she immediately crunched her nose again and spoke "You are. Unless you want me to bring Hiura-sensei into this." Her voice lowered as she gave me a steely look.

I could feel a shiver run down my spine at the thought of Hiura-sensei lecturing me again. My shoulder seemed to cringe in fear. „I’ll gladly join.” I answered cheerily though it was pretty fake.

Haniuda always had a way of assigning me tasks that felt like trivial punishments in disguise. I could never tell if she actually needed my help or just liked watching me scurry around on her behalf. I still had a few errands to run for her which irritated me. I’ve always stood out at this school, whether I wanted to or not. People stared at me like I was a walking target. It never bothered me... until now. As I walked through the corridors, heading to whatever errands I had to run for her, whispers followed. I couldn’t tell if it was because of my new position or just my usual pathetic self. I didn’t really care to know.

After I took care of the petty errands Haniuda had me do for her I just aimlessly walked around the school grounds finding myself at my favourite place in the school. The school’s very own cherry blossom tree, a rare spot of peace in the chaos. I sat down against it’s trunk lost in my own thoughts. All that kept popping up if I were to skip fencing class was Hiura-sensei’s anger. I sighed heavily hitting my head gently against the trunk, tortured by the thought of going. Time seemed to slip away as I contemplated whether to face Hiura-sensei which I dreaded or to suck it up and go. I really was thinking hard…

However, I found myself dragged into Fencing Class by my fear of another one of Hiura-sensei’s lectures. Fencing…Grade A snob behaviour, isn't it? At least, that’s what it seems like to me. Every step toward the fencing hall felt heavier than the last. My legs dragged as if trying to stage a protest, but fear of Hiura-sensei’s sharp tongue kept me moving.

So, before I knew it, I was standing in line with the other students in the Fencing Class, my face twisted in annoyance—not at anyone in particular, but at my own body for moving without my consent. The modern look of the hall made fencing seem even snobbier to me. Sleek metallic walls, the sharp echoes of swords clinking—it all reinforced how much I wanted to leave. The faint metallic smell of sweat mixed with the polished gleam of the fencing swords, and it all just annoyed me even more. My body practically itched to get out of there.

As the class started, everyone was practicing in pairs and groups, doing whatever fencing drills they had. Me? I just stood off to the side, lost in my own thoughts. However, life clearly couldn’t let me have even that...

A shadow loomed over me, and I looked up to see Haniuda standing there, looking smug.

'I challenge you.'

I blinked. Haniuda? Challenging me? For what?

'What for?' I asked, genuinely confused.

'Why not? Scared?' she taunted.

I laughed, trying to sound nonchalant. That kind of taunt wouldn’t work on me. Or so I thought.

Before I knew it, my body moved me onto the piste. Wait, what? It happened again? My body isn’t in sync with my brain today at all.

"Something I hadn’t realized about this class—for whatever reason they fought without the safety tips, if that’s even a thing. So, wouldn’t this just be considered a duel? She might genuinely be trying to kill me.

I glanced at the teacher, hoping for some support, but clearly, I wasn’t his favourite.

I turned back to Haniuda, speaking reluctantly, 'Is this really safe?'

'It’s relatively safe,' she answered with a casual shrug.

'Relatively?' I frowned, feeling more confused. Was I the weird one here? Wasn’t this just... insane? To be fair, I have no right to judge anyone, especially with how I am now."

After the spar started, I wasn’t really interested. My sword felt more like a prop than anything else, just another object I had to move around. I barely paid attention to her attacks, casually deflecting them with barely any effort. Each strike she made was met with a lazy parry or a simple step back. My heart wasn’t really in it but if I am being a hundred percent…it wasn’t really in anything.

I could feel her frustration behind the mask, each hit growing more malicious, more aggressive. It honestly felt like she was trying to kill me. I could almost feel her glare burning through the mask. I barely reacted—too tired to care. I just waved the sword around, barely bothering with my defence.

„Are you even taking me seriously?” she snapped, stepping back as her frustration boiled over.

„Great she is losing it.” I muttered to myself under my mask with a deep sigh following it.

I didn’t respond to her. Why bother? I wasn’t here to impress anyone. I wasn’t here to show off my skills, or how much I could do. That’d be hypocritical. Haniuda, however, was going all in. Was she trying to crush me? For what? I still didn’t get it. It’s not like I didn’t want to go all out but…I just couldn’t. Working hard, trying all it leads to is eventual failure. No matter who.

I decided to humour her, hoping to end the fight quicker, but that’s when it happened. As if we were in sync, we both moved to strike at each other’s sides. For a second, I thought she’d block, and our swords would clash. But they didn’t. A sharp sting shot through my hand, followed by warmth as my pale skin turned rosy red before I even registered what had happened. The tips of our blades had brushed across the uncovered skin of our free hands.

We both ended up at the nurse after a stern talking to and a suspension from Fencing Class. We ended up with the exact same cut on our hands.

We were sitting away frome eachother…I was looking out the window while sitting on its sill. She was on the bed with her back to me. The atmosphere felt odd. It wasn’t so hostile anymore…more melancholic I’d say. The air felt heavy—not in the same way Haniuda made it during the fight, but more quiet, slow. Maybe it was guilt. Maybe it was the weight of knowing Hiura-sensei would be the next one to lecture us. Whatever it was, I didn’t know.

Unique to me I was the first to say something „Look I’m sorry about the cut or something…” My voice still wasn’t enthusiastic or anything but still I did say sorry.

"I’m sorry too, idiot." Her voice carried a slight hesitation, and she refused to turn around. For a moment, I wondered if she actually felt bad—or if she just hated the thought of looking weak. Either way, it didn’t change anything. Was I supposed to feel better because she apologized? I wasn’t sure anymore. I’d stopped caring a long time ago... but the truth was, I didn’t know when or why I’d stopped. Maybe I just didn’t know how to care anymore. The cut still stung, sharp and raw, as if reminding me that no amount of apologies or guilt could change what had happened. It was a tangible thing, the pain lingering as if it had its own purpose—something more real than feelings or words could ever be.

I looked down at this bandaged hand of mine and for some reason. It stung more than it should.