The New Classmate

Eita Ikami found it impossible to ignore his new classmate. When everyone came back from Golden Week, she had been there, taking a seat in the back of the room. That was odd enough, to get some kind of transfer, but nothing had been announced and no introductions had been made. The teachers never called on her, and she didn't speak up on her own.

The girl had long brown hair and blue eyes, so maybe she was a foreigner? An American exchange student who didn't know much Japanese? Those kind of thoughts came to mind, but the more Eita considered them, the more they didn't seem to make a lot of sense, especially when it seemed that none of the other students even looked that way.

He didn't think that she was a ghost. Eita had always been sensitive to that kind of thing but had never seen one that looked like much of anything, especially not one that looked in every way like a normal person, who came and went through doors and who other people avoided bumping into in the hall.

Somehow, the idea that came next seemed even worse. If she was being bullied, the teachers' silence could be explained, and the way everyone seemed to just pretend they couldn't see her was part of it. Coming to this conclusion, Eita's first thought was to simply talk to the girl in question.

By lunch on Wednesday, he'd mustered his courage. The mystery girl left the classroom at lunch, and Eita noticed which way she went, and waited a little down the hall that way for the girl to return. As the time to get back to class came near, he mustered his best smile, waved, and called out.

“Hey!”

The girl halted, looked to the side, and then picked up the pace to walk by him. As she did, Eita caught her wrist and tried again to look as friendly and unintimidating as he could.

The girl whirled and the look on her face in that first instant confirmed, in Eita's mind, all his worst fears. She wasn't mad, but shocked, and more than that afraid.

“Name's Ikami,” he offered, making sure to let go of her wrist in the process, “Eita Ikami. You?”

Her eyes darted left and right. The way she was tense reminded Eita of a cat, one that wasn't sure whether or not it was going to bolt away.

“I'm Sammy,” she said at length. It was a Western name, but it didn't sound like she was struggling with Japanese.

“It's good to meet you,” Eita said, “We've been, ah, in the same class since Golden Week.”

“I know,” Sammy said. Some of that fearful energy seemed to leave her, “Two seats to the left, right?”

Eita nodded.

“So,” he said, “I was wondering, if there was anything you were having trouble with...”

Eita scratched his head and forced another smile. This was much harder than he thought it would be.

Sammy started to smile, but then something seemed to occur to her, or she remembered something, and at once she looked downcast, turning her head away.

“I'm sorry,” she said.

“Sorry?” Eita asked.

“You should be a good boy and forget all about me, like everyone else,” she said.

Before Eita could ask for an explanation, Sammy hurried away and ducked into the classroom. Eita told himself then that he'd tried, and so he tried to put doing anything else out of mind. It still gnawed at him, though, how sad she'd looked when she'd said she was sorry.

After the last bell, it was time to head to club. Not that the literature club was much of one after the senpais graduated. It had five members on paper, but three preferred to go home more often than not, leaving the second floor reading room the domain of Eita and Yua Jinguushi, who had been a friend since they were both in grade school. As they walked, Eita thought that Yua, at least, wasn't the kind of girl who would ever involve herself with bullying. But, if it was a matter among the girls, she might know a little more.

“Yua-chan, Do you know anything about Sammy?” he asked.

“Sammy?” Yua asked, “What story is this Sammy from?”

“No, not a character,” Eita said, “the girl from our class. The one who showed up after Golden Week.”

“I don't know-” Yua began to say.

That was when Eita noticed Sammy, entering the stairway that led up to the roof. In that moment, a terrible idea hit Eita. It was probably nothing, and as sad as she'd seemed Sammy had basically said she didn't want any help. But if something happened, and he didn't do anything, Eita would never forgive himself.

“Hold that thought,” he said, “I'll see you in the club room in a minute.”

Then he dashed towards the stairs to the roof himself, making his way up and then out onto the roof.

“Sammy!”

She was there, standing up next to the fence at the edge. She turned and looked at Eita as he walked forward.

“You could get in trouble, being up here,” she said.

“And you wouldn't?” Eita demanded.

“Nobody notices me,” Sammy replied, “So of course it will be fine.”

“I noticed.” Eita said, “I don't know what's happened, but not everyone is going to make a hard time for you.”

Sammy smiled, but her eyes were sad.

“You really are a nice kid, aren't you?” she said. “But you seem to have the wrong idea about a thing or two. Did you think I came up here to jump?”

Eita looked down. Being confronted like that, it felt like the whole idea had been insane.

“Don't look like I'm scolding you,” Sammy said, “It's sweet that you'd look after somebody you barely shared a word with.”

“So tell me-”

Sammy cut Eita off.

“I said you should forget me, but maybe that's just not how it works,” she said, “So I guess I'll indulge a little of your curiosity instead.”

She reached into her bag, and pulled something out. It looked like a circlet, with two curved pieces of black glass rising up out of it, like some kind of costume horns.

“Maybe I give off the sense,” she said, voice growing low as though she were telling a spooky story, “because of what I've seen. Do you want to know?”

Eita nodded.

“I've seen an angel fall,” Sammy said. “Watched the divine light drain away from a creature that used to be holy as it became... something else entirely. I saw the beauty of purity marred and painted in the tainted colors of Earth, and a golden halo be exchanged for devil's horns.”

Eita swallowed. With just her voice and piercing eyes she'd created a mood like a dark night lit by a single candle. It was impossible to not tense, to not have some primal part of his brain start insisting that there was something here he had to run from.

Then she put the costume horns on her head.

“That angel was me,” she said.

Great wings with pale gray feathers spread from her back, undeniably real in their silhouette against the tawny sky.

“The accursed Samyaza,” she said, introducing herself anew, “first of the Fallen.”