I flipped through my class notes with indifference. Across the room, Sora stared at me—burning through me with such intensity it felt like my snow white hair might catch fire. I lifted my head to meet her devilish glare. We stared at each other for an entire minute before breaking the silence with a quiet. "Yo." Without warning, Sora leaped across the room like a possessed fangirl. "MY SAKURA!" She yelled. She ran at me with the speed of a bullet train, so I in turn put my arm out to stop her…she rammed right into my arm, crashing onto the ground.
She lifted her head up quickly, still smiling—sweet and innocent, like nothing happened. I looked back at her, tilting my head downward to look her in the eyes. "Get back to your seat, I don't come to work to watch kids look at each other like they're in a love novel." The teacher said with a stern expression. Sora stood up and brushed herself off. Only to be nailed in the forehead by a flying pencil. I quickly turned my head away and looked straight at the board.
Sora rubbed her head, grinning through the pain. She took her seat but leaned in close to me. "Oh Sakura, I love you so much." She grabbed onto my sleeve and for five seconds, she didn't let go. I love you too, but maybe class isn't the time to tell me how much you love me. For the rest of the period, we sat silently, scribbling through notes, lost in our own worlds. The sound of the clock gives my eyes an irresistible itch. Finally the class bell rang, I stood up and swung my bag over my shoulder. "I'm out." I said. Sora tilted her head. "Where are you going?" "Soccer practice." Her face suddenly lit up followed with a gasp. "Can I watch you?" She asked. I couldn't help but smile as my back faced her. Standing for what felt like an eternity, I turned back with a sly grin. "Do whatever you want." Sora leapt out of her chair and instantly hopped onto my back, laughing frantically. "Then show off for me!" I couldn't help but chuckle at her ridiculousness. "Anything for you." I said.
I entered the locker room, grabbing onto my practice jersey. My eyes falling onto my old locker from freshman year. In a twisted flash of memories, I see myself standing there—younger, dimmer, stripped of everything but the intense fire in his eyes. Nothing changed. This place is—a furnace. A grave. A birthplace. This is purgatory.
The Reaper inside me stared back in the mirror, sneering. "I'm gonna survive!" I walked out of the locker room. The field was alive with laughter and idle kicks. Some were warming up or stretching in order to begin their warm up. I walked up slowly, my feet heavy. Alone in the crowd, the only one still shackled by the past. I headed to the penalty area, I lined up my shot and drew my leg back, WHAM! A ball smashed into my face, full force. I collapsed to one knee, dizzy, blood running from my nose. The dizziness made the world spin but I placed my hand on the ground to steady myself. I wiped the blood from my nose and looked back in curiosity. "Hello?" A shadow loomed, with condescending laughter. A boy stepped up with devilish black hair and luxurious golden eyes that gleamed like mockery incarnate. The boy smirked, his laughter slithered into my sears and echoed in my spinning head. "Looks like the jester doesn't know how to dance." He walked up to me and patted my head. "C'mon, you've got to do better than that, pro-di-gy." He said it like a curse, like a joke. "I've been waiting to meet you. Don't tell me the rumors weren't true." He grinned down at me, making the flame in my eyes burn brighter.