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Nagisa wandered through the halls of Class 3-E, the wooden floorboards rickety under his feet from years of use and the school’s blatant disregard for getting their rundown learning space replaced.
His phone buzzed in his pocket again, but he couldn’t care to answer. He was tired and he was scared and he didn’t want to go home.
Why, why was his mother always interfering in his life. He had so many things now, good things. He had his classmates, he had Korosensei, he had his other teachers.
He got new experiences that he would never find anywhere else. Though he did admit that suddenly being given a mission to assassinate the new teacher was a bit strange.
He sighed, and shook his head, trying the burdensome thoughts that had started to consume him. His mother was doing what was best for him. She cared about him after all.
Bile rose in his throat as he thought back to frilly pink dresses and the long hair he wasn’t allowed to cut.
‘Have I ever told you how badly I wanted a girl’. And different variations of that same sentence flashed through his mind.
His mother cared about him. (Or did she only care about the version of him in her idealistic world?)
His phone buzzed yet again and a spike of irritation pierced through the haze that had started to consume his mind. His mother wanted to take him out of Class 3-E.
He felt tears building up but he quickly shoved them down. They would only distract him after all.
He needed to stay in Class 3-E, he really really did.
But his mother would never think like that, and he wasn’t allowed to think like that.
So he was stuck with no other choice but to go along with Hiromi Shiota’s wishes yet again. Just like he always did and forever would have to do.
He just wished that it wasn’t so easy for her to disregard his wellbeing, his identity, to fit her perfect version of a son. Or a ‘daughter’.
He smacked his cheek, leaving the faintest red mark. He should be grateful for her.
“Nagisa.”
Nagisa turned so fast it was almost comical at the sound of his teacher’s voice.
“Korosensei?”
His teacher looked strangely serious, his face, usually patterned randomly depending on what mood he was in, stayed a serious yellow.
Before Korosensei, he would never have thought he would ever string the words serious and yellow together, but this was just another thing that only class 3-E could give him.
He refocused back onto Korosensei, who was talking with a concerned look on his face that promised to Nagisa that this was a conversation he was woefully unprepared to have. Though he wasn’t entirely sure that he would ever have enough preparation for this.
Nagisa took a deep breath and actually listened to what he was saying.
“Nagisa, over the course of your time in class, I have made quite a few, frankly startling, discoveries. I want you to answer me honestly, Nagisa. Does your mom hurt you?”
That was frighteningly direct and Nagisa could feel his heart pounding in his chest. His mouth suddenly felt dry and his hands began to shake.
“No,” that came out too shaky and Nagisa shook his head before trying again. “No, Korosensei.”
A yellow tentacle, one of eight, came to rest on Nagisa’s head. Another two curled around his shoulders in a mockery of a comforting grab.
“Nagisa, you don’t have to defend your mother. If she is hurting you I can keep you safe. If she is hurting you, no matter what she says, that is abuse and you need to tell me so I can help you.”
Nagisa wanted to speak. He wanted more words to come spewing out his mouth about how his mother wasn’t hurting him, how she was doing her best after his father left and never came back.
But he came up short. Fragmented memories rushed through his mind and pounded against his skull, hurting like shards of glass from a broken mirror.
He took a step back, words clinging to his throat, unable to come out.
He could end this right now. As much as Korosensei wanted to help him, Nagisa knew that he wouldn’t push, wouldn’t drive him away.
“She’s not- She’s not hurting me,” his throat felt sore, and he quickly regretted it. Was his mother hurting him? Wasn’t he just griping about how she was stealing his free will, how she was taking away his will to keep on fighting.
She was taking away his right to stay in Class 3-E, his decision about where he wanted to learn, where he wanted to be.
And sure, he could make new friends, he could train on his own, he could study harder and get better grades.
But why did he have to? Class 3-E was his second home. His only way of actually feeling like he belonged. What gave her the right to take that away from him?
Korosensei was turning away, telling him that if Nagisa was truly certain about that, he wouldn’t push.
This was his opportunity.
“Wait, Korosensei.”
Korosensei turned back around, his tentacles splaying out around him as he looked at his student. Nagisa immediately felt guilt well up in his throat, clogging up his chest like a heavy fog and poisoning his breaths.
After all she did for him, was he really doing this?
“I think she’s hurting me. She keeps on forcing me to dress up like a girl and I’m not a girl and why can’t she understand that. She wants to take me out of Class 3-E, but it’s like a family to me, this class, and why can’t she understand that!”
He spewed them out before they could get stuck, each word turning Korosensei’s face darker and darker until he was literally black with fury.
“Could you tell me more, Nagisa?” He coaxed the blue haired boy gently, “Specific instances to be exact?”
And Nagisa did.
After all of that was said, Korosensei pulled Nagisa into a hug, and they stood there, just for a while.
His teacher’s hugs always felt safe, always. An unspoken promise whispering through all eight tentacles. ‘I won’t leave you alone. I won’t leave you to deal with this alone.’