The classroom smelled faintly of parchment and ink, a quiet contrast to the chaotic hum of the cafeteria. Kuro followed Mika to their usual seats at the back, the afternoon sunlight catching the strands of Mika's pale hair.
"Sit here," Mika said curtly, though the sharp edge in his voice softened slightly as he gestured for Kuro to take the chair beside him. "Don't fall asleep."
[Oh, great. That's your idea of caring, huh?] Elvastia muttered darkly in Kuro's mind. [Threaten him, then maybe he won't die from boredom.]
{He's just… protective in his own way,} Kuro thought back, keeping his focus on Mika.
Mika's gaze flicked to Kuro, ever watchful. "Focus on the lesson," he added. "If you're distracted, you'll regret it by not passing those exams." The words were brisk, but there was a subtle firmness beneath them—as if he genuinely didn't want Kuro to fail.
The professor entered, and the lesson began in earnest. Today's topic: monsters' social structures and behaviors. Goblins, fairies, demons, and elves—all from a different perspective.
When the discussion turned to demons, Kuro listened intently, noting their aggressive hierarchies and chaotic tendencies.
[Arrogance. Stupid horns, stupid claws. They think they own the world,] Elvastia muttered.
Mika's voice cut sharply, almost answering Elvastia aloud in Kuro's mind. "Don't underestimate them. You die if you do." His tone was severe, clipped, almost cruel—but aimed at the warning, not at Kuro.
Kuro didn't flinch. He understood the difference. Mika's harshness was directed at the voice in his head, but every glance at Kuro was careful, measured—like he was silently making sure Kuro would survive.
Fairies came next. The discussion focused on their cunning and manipulative social interactions.
"They charm and trick," Kuro said softly during a moment of group discussion. "But even cunning creatures follow rules. Understanding them is how we avoid being hurt."
Mika's eyes flicked toward him, expression unreadable. "Don't be naive,.." he muttered under his breath, yet the corner of his mouth twitched almost imperceptibly, like a tiny nod of approval. Harsh words, but a subtle reassurance: he believed Kuro could handle it.
{He really has a twisted way of showing he cares,} Kuro thought, inwardly smiling.
When the professor finally spoke of elves, the room fell quiet. Kuro raised his hand and offered insights into elven diplomacy and the consequences of long lifespans on perspective and patience.
"Flawed," Mika said, voice low but sharp. "Even longevity won't save you if you act carelessly." Harsh, yes—but the glance he gave Kuro was steady, guiding. A silent message: watch carefully, but I trust you.
{see? He acts differently in school but still cares...maybe he doesn't want to show weakness}
Elvastia grumbled, swearing under his breath, but there was a thread of begrudging acknowledgment in his tone. Kuro felt it: the voice cared, just as Mika's subtle gestures and cautious eyes showed care.
The bell rang, ending class. Students scrambled for the door, but Mika remained seated a moment longer, watching Kuro pack his things.
"Next class," he said quietly, tone neutral but softer than usual. "Try not to embarrass yourself. Or me."
Kuro met his eyes and smiled faintly. "I'll do my best."
Mika's lips pressed into a thin line. He didn't smile—but his gaze softened just enough to let Kuro know he believed him.
[You hear that? He's a pain in the ass, but he's looking out for you,] Elvastia muttered, swearing quietly but with a hint of relief.
Kuro didn't respond. He simply nodded, feeling the subtle warmth beneath Mika's cold exterior. Somehow, that was enough.