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Iruma should’ve been expecting this.
Really, he should have.
Tucked inside his bookbag, he could almost visualise the eleven papers in there with x-ray-like vision. He pretended not to care as he walked out of Royal One, alone and vulnerable to the growing ferocity of the winds belonging to the Netherworld. Balam had called him to his office a bit prior to him walking out of Royal One, it didn’t take rocket science to put two and two together to figure out what the conversation may entail. But still, Iruma prayed that if there was an equivalent of Child Protective Services in the Netherworld, they wouldn’t be at his door banging and demanding answers right now or better yet, never. Afterall, Summer Break was just around the corner.
Although in Iruma’s defense, he still couldn’t believe he wrote any of that. He remembered writing it of course, but the weight of reality hadn’t hit him until Kalego handed him that massive F on his paper. After the delivery of that failing grade, he was feeling the burning sensation of shame. The embarrassment continued to grow with each step as he made his way to the Zooology teacher’s office.
He eventually found himself sitting on a couch, with a cup of Helltea in one hand and the urge to throw himself out the window in the other. After one sip of tea, he briskly looked around the room, subtly of course. Just to make sure there were no extra visitors. After deeming there was none, he took another sip.
He then starts to think. This is probably going to turn out to be the kind of conversation where a teacher has a one to one with a student to ask if they are being treated right at home. Iruma prays to the gods or deities that exist in the Netherworld that this would not be the case. The last thing he needs is getting his Grandpa in trouble for something Iruma should’ve kept to himself.
But if it did come down to it. He’d preach that it was a downright lie. He was just feeling very imaginative at the time of writing it. Yes! And he would talk about all the happy times that had happened in the Netherworld because he’s happy! Definitely happy. He’s well fed, sheltered, has a nice bed, daily baths, education and free time. Seriously though! Since coming to the Netherworld, it has been like a long diet consisting of overwhelming happiness. It’s been great. So there’s no need to look back on what’s happened. Or at least, that’s what he used to tell himself. And then he found himself handing in the pages depicting his past troubles and stories. He can never learn the easy way can he?
Oblivious to the cinnamonroll’s turmoil, Balam starts to speak. “I’m glad I could get a hold of you,” the bottom of his eyes were creasing to signify he was smiling. “I thought your friends would cling to you hard,” Iruma lets out an awkward laugh. Azz and Clara did take some convincing to let him leave, after much reassurance on his part.
“Well, during lunch we were going to talk more about what we were going to do over the break,” Iruma said before sipping his tea. “We’re going to go stay at Clara’s house for the first few days. Play in the forest, go shopping, and do some other things…” The young boy starts thinking back on the previous experiences at the Valac house. He was looking forward to it.
Balam let out an amused sigh. “Are they as fun as they’re said to be?” He asks curiously.
“What are they said to be?”
Balam looks worried for what he was about to repeat. “Well, Kalego says that they are quite… Energetic, and loud… and very shameless,” the bluenette let out an unrestrained laugh. Of course their grumpy teacher thinks that.
“Well, they are interesting. But they are also very nice people!” Iruma then releases a soft smile. His teacher was blinded in the process thanks to the boy’s overwhelming metaphorical light. The bluenette couldn’t help but see the best in people.
“Well anyways, besides summer break plans…” Balam places his tea on the table. The gentle placement of the cup felt intentional, controlled. The air grew tense, just slightly, but enough to make Iruma’s ahoge raise in subtle alert. The silver haired man then started speaking with not a hint of accusation or aggression in his voice, but instead spoke with a gentle flow. “Last night,” he starts with an explanation. “I was at Kalego’s house because he wanted some assistance to um… go through the stories you Misfits wrote,” the Gargoyle maintains a watchful eye as Iruma’s features become more tense. Blue eyes avoided all contact from the older, his pointer finger was tapping the ceramic cup and one leg bouncing on the toes. He was quite easy to read huh?
Iruma gulps. “I see,” the boy then went to down some more tea. The liquid tasted strangely warm all of the sudden.
“I did see,” the boy quickly found the wall behind his teacher very interesting. Balam watches him for a moment longer before a sigh pushed through his mask.
“I’m not going to demand answers, nor am I going to judge,” he said softly as if he was talking to a scared child. “But I do want to ask some things pertaining to what you wrote,” and maybe ask why you wrote it, “You don’t have to answer some things if you don’t want to.”
Iruma didn’t make any visible signs of acknowledging his teacher. Odd. Iruma didn’t usually ignore people. Balam wasn’t sure if this was his way of ignoring someone. Maybe it wasn’t intentional? There was a good chance he was just thinking and didn’t hear him.
So to clarify, Balam gently prods. “... Do you mind?” Iruma turned his head. Slightly. He looks fine. His tension and jittery anxiety from two seconds ago seemingly disappeared. His expression held a look of reserve sure but it wasn’t downright nervousness. It was an expression that was obviously hiding something, like their feelings or thoughts. To the teacher, it felt like a change that happened too quickly. A type of front. It wasn’t a drastic change but it was noticeable. Most likely not intentional.
A beat passes. “I don’t mind,” he answers calmly. Another beat passes. The Gargoyle couldn’t help but feel slightly scared. This felt out of character for Iruma. He couldn’t help but feel… off. Like a door randomly opening for no apparent reasoning. There was something there, but what?
“Well,” the teacher made a cough that resounded through the metallic mask. His expression quickly turns serious, fingers interlaced between each other as he sat his chin on his knuckles. The boy’s breath hitches. And then, Balam began to speak. “Can I ask about this restaurant called ‘Macdonalds’?”
.
Iruma blinks. Then blinks again. His face went from surprise to amusement and eventually led to laughter. He held his stomach after ten seconds straight of hard laughing. The teacher was taken aback by the outburst, but he felt relief knowing that Iruma found no anger in his question.
Iruma’s laugh died down soon after. He wipes a few tears from his eyes as he answers the question. “Mcdonalds is uh… It’s the most iconic fast food brand out there,” after answering the question, he found that his teacher was scribbling notes down. Iruma didn’t think McDonald's was that important for knowing about the human race. It wasn’t that much different compared to fast food restaurants here in the Netherworld.
“And why is it called ‘Macdonalds’?”
“Named after the founder… I’m pretty sure,” he sounds hesitant. No one can blame him, Iruma certainly didn’t come to school today thinking he had to recount McDonald's history.
“And when was it found?”
How is that important? Iruma thought to himself.
“Umm, sometime in the 70s maybe?” Iruma had a feeling he was completely off but hey, it’s not like anyone is going to Google it right?
“Interesting!” For a short while, Balam continues to ask question after question, some pertaining to McDonald's while others were more pertaining to some general questions about the human world once again. The questions never got old, in a way, it was kind of nice to recall the generalistics to the human realm. That’s why Iruma was always willing to answer those questions. However, it was when things got personal that it became hard to… respond back. And to Iruma’s unhidden dismay, it did circle back to his personal collection of memory lane.
Meanwhile on Balam’s end, he tried to gently nudge his way into asking some more questions regarding his life before, trying to make it sound like a natural flow. Yet Iruma knew immediately what was happening. It starts with him asking something along the lines of ‘have you worked there before?’ and just like that Iruma starts growing to become less responsive. After asking a few different questions and hitting the same wall, he decided that there was no hope in taking the bush route.
“Iruma,” Balam starts carefully. “I meant what I said when I read everything, from page one to the final page,” the teacher watches as Iruma’s eyes scrunches up and looks away.
“...I know you already wrote about it, but I was wondering if you could just add some more insight to it?” He steadily blinks for a moment and then adds on, “I- If you’re alright with it that is!” he mentally face palmed.
‘Way to go, Shichiro. So much for subtly encouraging him to talk about it.’ Balam should’ve known that the assignment was an outlet of sorts. But it seems strange to Balam. If it was that difficult to talk about then why write about it in the first place? Is it a human thing? Iruma did mention once that writing out thoughts was easier than saying them. Is that something humans tend to do?
But another voice spoke to Balam. If in the hypothetical scenario that it wasn’t a human thing, then does that mean he trusted Kalego more than himself? Iruma being more comfortable with Kalego did make sense. He’s his homeroom teacher, the one who pushed to make his students grow. But it still stung something inside the Gargoyle, and he was unwilling to confront the thought train any further. Balam came to the conclusion that this is probably a human thing. Write about what had happened to them but at the same time didn’t want to elaborate on it. Why? Shouldn’t retelling the story, whether written or spoken, mean that you’re over it? But with this, isn’t this just a big contradiction? Why write about something you're not over with but still wanting to share it with someone? Humans are really confusing creatures.
His attention pulls back to the moment thanks to a certain student’s voice. Upon looking up, he saw Iruma bent into a slight bow. “-I’m really sorry about that! I really am!” His voice quivers a little as he apologizes, his hair obscuring his expression, the tea shook with white fingers grasping the cup. The teacher blinks as his student sits slumped on the sofa in front of him.
“What for?” He asks dumbly.
Iruma looks up. His expression reflects something somber, he averts his eyes to the cooling tea. “I shouldn’t have bothered you with things that happened in the past. Especially things that didn’t happen in this world,” the tea in his hands distorted his reflection with each small swirl. He didn’t notice Balam tilting his head.
“But you already have?”
“Gah!” As if punched, Iruma let out an embarrassed sob. “I’m really sorry sensei! I’ll try to apologize to Kalego-sensei later as well, but no guarantee that will work…” A dreadful look creeps itself onto the bluenette’s face. Yeah there’s no guarantee that will do anything…
“Actually Iruma,” Balam raises a hand to quell the breaking dam of apologies. He was starting to get tired of the kid’s overwhelming people pleaser attitude. It was the last day of term, cut him some slack. “Can we please talk about the assignment?” He repeats while keeping a cautious tone. It seems to have worked this time seeing that the defensive wall separating him and Iruma hadn’t been completely pushed to the skies just yet. Maybe their banter a few seconds ago contributed to that.
The student was still nervous, his jittery eye movement gave that away quickly. What was he so nervous about? He couldn’t humor that thought for long. Iruma sighs before responding, “Well, what would you like to know?” he asks innocently.
The taller one sips a bit of the tea. “Well for starters, is it real?” Iruma nods. “All of it?” Another nod. “Hmm, that’s uh… interesting,” his eyes move to read the clock, they have some time. “It’s just that… you’ve never mentioned a father before. Or an aunt, brother or anything like that in our previous conversations,” he hears a quick wisp of air flow through the boy’s lips.
“Well…” He sighs out, silence filling his throat for a moment. “I uh, didn’t want to talk about it before…” A beat passes before Balam proceeds with questioning.
“And why talk about it now? Why write about it?” That’s when Iruma fully looks Balam in the eyes. Blue orbs were darting around, unsettled, but still remaining on the teacher’s eyes.
“I’m… not exactly sure. I mean-” he runs a hand through his hair, blue locks flowing back down like trickling waves. Another sigh struggles out of his mouth before he continues, “I was struggling with what to write. I didn’t want to write something that Kalego-sensei was already familiar with and..” he pauses momentarily to think of his next words. “... And I didn’t want to make up something…. And my Dad is memorable…” and with a quieter voice he adds, “And I haven’t been able to talk about him much for uh- reasons,” Balam nods sympathetically at the kid. “And truth be told, I originally wasn’t going to write sixteen or however many pages worth of uh- recollections. It was just going to be the one page, but then one thing led to another as everything does with me and I ended up staying up late writing,” Iruma’s voice drifts away as he looks out the window. The skies were slightly cloudy, but there were still birds soaring. “It… kinda hurts to write about. Not because I was thinking of my Dad. But I also miss the rest of my family…” He pauses, looking ahead at something, as if seeing something invisible to Balam’s eyes. “It’s usually easier to write about that kind of thing rather than talk about it. And I thought Kalego-sensei would take it well. I assumed he would just think it was a big made-up story, but… was it really that bad?” And then he turns to stare back into the Gargoyle's eyes once again. The older couldn’t help but feel his body tense.
He pushed past the tension. “Well, bad enough to make me come to his door in the early hours of the morning with alcohol,” he answers with dry humor laced in his voice, but he could tell that it didn’t make Iruma feel any better.
His head slumps forward in shame. “...I’m sorry… again,” Balam shakes his head at Iruma’s insistent apologies.
“Iruma, i’ve told you already, everything is ok,” with reassurance, Balam reaches over and gently pats him on the head.
Iruma glances up. Guilt ridden in his eyes. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“One hundred percent sure?”
“One thousand percent sure.”
“But what about Kalego-sensei?” Iruma asks earnestly. “Is he really ok? Like, he was grumpier than usual this morning- oh! I don’t mean that in a mean way!” Balam chuckles, unharmed by the supposed ‘insult’.
“There isn’t a week that goes by that Kalego doesn’t lose sleep due to the Misfit’s shenanigans,” he shakes his head. “Don’t worry, Kalego is fine,” he waves a hand in an attempt to ease the child’s worries. Iruma sighs in relief, the tension in his shoulders disappearing. Brief silence fills the space between them, that is until the older one muttered one word.
“Sixteen?”
“Huh?” Iruma blinks with his mouth dumbly agape.
“You said sixteen pages,” Balam repeats gently. “There were only eleven given to Kalego,” Iruma blinks again, then nods.
“Some of them are at home,” Iruma shrugs unbothered. "Personal keeping,” Balam hums. Noting that Iruma’s shoulders were once again stiffened, and his eyes were fixed on the grates of his teacher’s mask.
“Any particular reason why you didn’t give them to Kalego?” The boy’s eyes remained fixed for a little longer. It took a moment for him to respond.
“I thought it would be too long if I gave more pages to Kalego-sensei,” he shrugs again.
“Like an extra five pages could do anything to him. You do not want to see how many pages Asmodeus handed in,” A whopping sixty six pages if you were wondering.
“Ah. Well I figured that there wouldn’t be a point to add them in,” at his words, Balam’s brow raises. It encourages Iruma to elaborate, albeit unknowingly.
“Well, it drew away from the main story a bit, y'know. And by the main story I meant me retelling my experiences with Dad,” he looked down at the rippling tea in his hands. “I tried to centre the story around just me and Dad, but then I started slowly drifting to others I was close with and that just opened a bunch of well- other cans of worms…” short taps can be heard from the tiled floors beneath them.
“Plus, it felt like those pages in particular shouldn’t be shared with Kalego-sensei. They’ll just… hm,” his eyes felt hypnotized by the lukewarm tea. It was unfinished. Unfinished like the story he wrote in an attempt to fully digest what had been lost and what may be continued to lose. Balam felt dread build in his chest for some reason. But it was there.
His eyes narrow down on the bluenette. He knows it’s not a good idea to press forward with that topic, but without a second thought, it came out anyway. “Do you want to go back to the human world?”
To Balam, it seems like a silly question. It was a black and white answer to him. The conditions Iruma had lived in for the last decade seemed intense, like the medieval ages of demon kind except dressed in modern technology. Thanks to the papers, it’s the most insight he’s ever garnered from Iruma’s personal experience. However, due to the introduction of these previously unknown family members, Balam couldn’t help but feel bad for Iruma. He previously assumed that Iruma didn’t have any close relatives, and therefore felt nothing for the world he left behind. But now, he felt silly for thinking of such a basic answer, an answer that prevented him from feeling guilty. It became clear that Iruma had to leave a lot behind. And now that he was thinking back to all their conversations regarding the other realm, he felt stupid for not hearing the quiet fondness laced in the boy’s voice before. Almost as if he missed it.
And now he would get his answer. “...I,” his voice was weak, pitiful in a way. Balam did not move to encourage him.
He soon spoke. “I do miss Earth, but more specifically them,” his gaze was still fixed to the tea, as if it was the most mind drawing show in the world. His face was shrouded once again in many blue locks. His soft voice gives away the delicate feeling woven under the surface. And then, his voice turns rigid, like water frozen over. “But is it worth going back just for them?” His hands scrunches the blue fabric of his pants. “As dark as it sounds, it’s not like time has stopped. They can continue their lives without me being a constant liability,” at this point, Iruma was talking at the table. The bluenette opens his mouth, then shuts it, open, then shut. It was as if his voice was refusing to come out of his throat.
A heavy weight settled in Balam’s chest. From the distant look in Iruma’s eyes, Balam thinks that possibly, some part of Iruma acknowledges that he may have been dealt the wrong cards back then. If he was born to a loving mother and father, he probably wouldn’t be here. He could’ve gone to school with other beings of his own race, and he wouldn’t have to deal with the looming pressure of being consumed by those who may or may not care about him.
Balam made sure to ignore the selfish thankfulness echoing from the depths of his head. So he turned to a different question.
“So you believe now that they’re wrong?”
“Huh?” Iruma raises his eyes again. The Gargoyle stares back with narrow eyes. To Iruma, something indescribable shone in the teacher’s eyes. He couldn’t pick out what it was, it was different from what he usually saw in those eyes. But it wasn’t threatening since Balam composed a calm posture.
“Your parents. It was clear to me that you cared about them, why bother working dangerous and tiring jobs for just random people,” his voice continues at an even tone as he speaks. “And you even later acknowledged that they didn’t care about you. So you do believe they are wrong, right?” Balam continues to persist despite the nagging voice in the back of his mind saying it was possibly too much.
But what was concerning was the lack of an immediate yes. Rather an unsettling and unmoving silence sits itself between them.
The silence cuts short when the student responds. “Why does that matter?” the bluenette responds with a strange confidence. Actually, confidence was the wrong word. It was the kind of firmness that showed itself when a student did something wrong, practiced certainty for the off chance that they were caught. The teacher knew it all too well.
“Because I want to know,” he pressed a large hand to his chest, almost like he was trying to feel for his heartbeat. “Out of a place of worry and concern. I want to know how you conclude the story,” his nails were stabbing into his palms as his eyes unintentionally bored down on the student parallel to him.
“I thought it was already established that they didn’t want me anymore,” he stares, something unintelligible rolling through the kid’s eyes before he cuts eye contact from the man. “I already said that I wouldn’t be living at their whims anymore,” his gaze fell back into the warm liquid swirling in his hands.
“Yeah, but why go on that final job?” He challenges, knowing that at this point he would be pushing boundaries. Nonetheless, his eyes remain unmoving. “You said so yourself. But you made a confusing choice in that last chapter.”
“Again, how does that relate to anything now?” Iruma snaps back. Leaning just slightly over the couch.“I already-” He cuts himself off. Eyes wide and body still. He pushes himself back down onto the couch and returns his tone to a more polite state. “I said that it’s not worth going back.”
“You're only saying that because you don’t want to see them again do you?” Silence resounds in the room for a moment. The larger one watches as cogs turn in his student’s head.
“I… I don’t have anything to say to them,” Iruma finally responds.
“...” Balam stays silent for a moment. “Then what about the rest of your family? If you truly wanted to see them again, you would fight for it no? That’s what you do here for your friends right?” Unintentionally sounding like an accusation, Iruma starts to stutter rapidly.
“What- hold on!” He shuffles to the edge of the couch. “This doesn’t have anything to do with them. You brought up them, not them!” With wild hands, he gestures between the two opposing sides that only he could truly understand.
Balam’s own heart began to stutter in growing tension. His voice resounded more harshly against his mask as he spoke. “It’s great that you're healing and coming to a resolution to what happened. But it doesn't sound too far-fetched to assume you’re running away from everything. From them and them.”
“Running away? Me??” Iruma then stands up, an uncharacteristically angry expression etched into his features. “I did not run away. If I mention them or them, I would only put myself in danger. And what would come of that? My death!!” His anger was thrown into the air as he made his declaration. “I’m doing what I can to survive and if that means to be silent and move out of the way of danger then I will do that. That is what I have always done and will continue to do for this secret.” His cup of tea was near forgotten on the table, almost like the quiet whispers from the past.
Balam bit back. Not pissed like the boy, but out of blown-out curiosity. “What do you mean by that? Don’t you have the ability to go back?” Sweat has already begun to gather at his temples. His heart was pounding harder than it had in a long time. “The chairman had apparently done so before, so why not again?” He should stop. His voice was quivering hard. Stop this- “And if you really feel like you're in danger all the time-” no stop- “-and you really miss them you’d go back then.”
“I didn’t choose to come here!”
.
The bold statement froze in the room. As if the air itself was holding its breath. The scowl on Iruma’s face was burned there. And then it was gone. Then it was replaced by a cold look of shock. The kind of expression that screamed ‘uh oh’. Balam immediately caught the change in tone from the kid.
“You didn’t get to choose to be here?” He parrots back.
“...” he stands there for a moment, his mouth slightly ajar. No words came out until a wisp of air slipped from his lips. “...I spoke too much. I’m sorry Sensei, I shouldn’t have written that in the first place, I shouldn’t have told you any of that and I- I’m sorry-” Iruma gulps. His eyes began to shimmer. “I’m really sorry,” as he stumbles away from the couch, he slams his shin into the table nearly toppling him over. Balam stands up at seeing the collision, but Iruma pays no mind and reaches for his bookbag.
Without as much as a glance he speed-walks to the door. As he swings open the door, he turns back. Hesitant to meet his teacher’s eyes once more and even more hesitant to even speak.
“...Have a good break Sensei,” he says calmly. “I-I’ll see you next term,” and with that he left.
The teacher was left in silence. He listens to the meek padding of the boy’s shoes against tiles until it vanishes from ear shot. He stares at the open door. Half expecting the boy to walk into his office as if nothing happened. As if Balam had just woken up from a dream that made him do something reckless. But alas, he didn’t return. The hallway made no sound, and there was still unfinished tea on the table.
His hand flew up to his forehead. Stupid. That was incredibly stupid. He shouldn’t have pushed Iruma that far. He shouldn’t have been prying in the first place. He shouldn’t have asked that even though he wanted the extra reassurance that he wasn’t going back any time soon.
‘Curiosity killed the cat.’ He thinks whilst leaning into his hands. This talk was meant to ease Iruma into explaining more of what happened to him, to get Iruma to trust him. Yet he ended up pushing him away. This should be a lesson to back off now because none of this is his business. But for some reason his thoughts were still wandering elsewhere, unfortunately none of them consist of apologising to the boy.
What are the other five pages about?
It should be the last thing on his mind. In fact, he shouldn’t even be thinking about this anymore. But he’s curious. Really curious. Another rush of guilt hits him.
No. He has to withhold. He’s already pushed his curiosity too far, it would be just downright rude to push any further. And even if their conversation didn’t throw itself into the dumpster a bit ago, it seems that these five pages are for Iruma’s eyes for now. No point in prying the kid for something that doesn’t want to see the light just yet. It's like how that human saying goes, ‘to open Pandora’s Box’. Balam might’ve used it in the wrong context but it seemed kinda fitting. Plus it seems ironic now that he thinks about it. But that idiom holds some weight. He should stop digging. It’s all in the past, all in another world, and it won’t come back to haunt them anytime soon, it will only ever haunt him…