Chapter Text
Saparata always enjoyed watching the sunrise.
The reddish sun on the horizon graced Saparata's view like an old friend you meet on the street. The cool breeze brushed against his skin, begging for a thin coat that now rested on his shoulders. The black watch on his wrist showed five o'clock in the morning, sharp. It was an all-too-familiar time. The same time Saps left home every day. At the same time he always said goodbye to his father. The same as always. That's how it worked for Saparata.
With an involuntary sigh, Saps turned to his father, also hurriedly leaving the small house at the end of the street where they both lived. Ish was a single father, and only had Saps, so the house itself had always been small, even when they didn't live in Hyosan. Ish smiled, and he returned the smile with a quick nod and a slowly murmured "Bye, Dad." Even though he was already used to the schedule, it was still tiring to wake up so early just to go to school.
Saps starts walking.
At this hour, it's rare to see any clear sign of life on the street. All the roads are empty, inhospitable and silent, and all the establishments still have their lights off. It's an almost deafening calm, as if the city had been evacuated overnight and only he was left behind. His steps sounded hurried for the silence of the morning, which was understandable: he would be late if he were a little slower. Not according to school rules, of course. According to some people in his circle of friends (namely: Cass, Jophiel and Gray), he arrived way too early and most of the people from the other classes genuinely believed that the boy slept at school or something like that. The rules he refers to are those of a specific person.
Fluixon Aculon. The youngest son of the Aculon family, the greatest prodigy of Hyosan High School. The leader of the Conspiracy. The class president of class 2-5. The smartest student in his class. Saps' biggest thorn in his side.
Since the beginning of high school, he and Flux never got along very well. Saps thought the dark-haired boy was arrogant, and Flux thought he was too simplistic. The hatred between the two was mutual, and neither of them was interested in working with each other. That is, until the beginning of this year. Flux and Saps are the students with the best grades in their class, always at or near the maximum. For everyone, the choice of Saparata and Fluixon as class presidents was obvious.
To everyone, except Saparata and Fluixon. To this day, Saps still sees fate as a very mocking and unscrupulous being, because it is at least an outrage to put the two of them in that position. Even worse, the vice-president was Saps, not Flux. Having the other as leader was like walking around with a giant note on his forehead that read, “Buy me a self-help book.”
Because of this, Saparata now had to arrive an hour before the regular students' class time and meet with Flux in the library every morning, every week, without fail, to maintain his reputation as vice-class president. He definitely thought it was a stupid condition, but he wasn't the one who made the rules.
He arrived at the door of Hyosan High School, absentmindedly waving to the elderly teacher who usually wandered around the first floor in the mornings. Sometimes she offered Saps cookies, which he always gladly accepted. The boy never had much time for breakfast, don't judge him. This time, however, the teacher stopped him with a light tap on the shoulder. He frowned. “I hadn't passed her, had I? Since when did I get in the middle of the hallway?” She gave him another light tap on the shoulder, with a worried expression.
“Saparata? You look tired, kiddo.” She says, her hoarse voice echoing like an unfinished lullaby. He forces a smile, hoping it will be reassuring.
“It’s alright, Mrs. Squiddo. I just feel more tired lately. It’s nothing you need to worry about.” The student says, carefully distancing himself from the teacher. It was the wrong reaction, however, as the older woman immediately seemed more concerned than initially. Saps curses mentally.
“I see. Exam week, isn’t it?” A brief nod in response. Squiddo continues, however. “You’re always coming earlier than the other students, and you don’t need grades right now, your average grades are already perfectly fine. We’re close to the High School’s breaks, Saparata. Go get some rest.” And, by the gods, how unfair it was that she had such a comforting voice. Perhaps it was the fact that Saps didn't perfectly remember his biological mother's voice, but even so, he felt comforted every time the teacher spoke to him. As if he were standing in front of a fireplace with a warm blanket on his shoulders on a cold Saturday night. As if he weren't Saparata, and as if he didn't have to schedule his days off the same way he does with all the other ones. Many call it neediness or even disillusionment. He calls it genuineness. With that in mind, he replies:
“Thank you, Mrs. Squiddo. I’ll try to go easier on my studies.” She smiles and starts walking down the corridors, pulling a bunch of keys from the pocket of her orange wool coat and heading towards a locked room. If Saparata weren’t himself, he would have ended with an “I promise.” Fortunately, Saps doesn’t make empty promises. He learned the consequences of decorating a hollow moral with empty words many years ago, and he would never make that mistake again. Not while he was alive. The whole philosophical line fails, however, when a somewhat familiar voice emerges from behind where Saps was standing in the middle of the corridor, sideways to the stairs leading to the second floor. He can feel the patience and calm that Squiddo had provided seconds—minutes, he corrects, looking at his watch—before draining from his body when he recognizes to whom that damned voice belongs.
“I thought you fixed your alarm, Saparata? What, the vice-president can’t fix such a simple alarm? Should I remove you from office?” A loud, elegant laugh pierces the air, a highly familiar laugh.
Fluixon.