[OOC: Ridiculously belated fic trade(s) with this mysterious MuseNotAmused whomever they may be]
Title: Why she loved him
Character(s): Ishimaru Sora, Yasuraka Mitsuki (Mentions of other RP characters, each property of their respective owners)
Summary: Sora ponders her feelings towards Mitsuki.
Time frame: Post-Darkness incident; pre-Necromancy incident, pre-Saya incident
It was as if though cheese fondue was being dripped over her brain with a ladle that Sora’s mind melted with cheesy thoughts as she ambled down the dirt road path that led towards the pier. Her destination was the submarine parked by the wharf that housed a gloomy former Duel Academia teacher - Yasuraka Mitsuki, to be more specific.
Sora wasn't sure why she had forfeited her Sunday afternoon plans of Seku-poking and Chinese yo-yoing and violininging to seek out one of the most somber, disliked men on the island. After all, recreational time had become an increasingly sparse nugget of gold midst all of the schoolwork the teachers were assigning in preparation for the inter-school tournament that was going to take place. So why did she choose to spend her limited free time on such a menial task? What was it Mitsuki had that she was so attracted to? Surely, it wasn’t any of the customary factors of infatuation.
... well. He was handsome. At age 23, Mitsuki was at the peak of his physical aesthetics, donning a strong, muscular build and handsome facial features outlined by the stubble on his chin. And at age 16, it was generally more or less accepted for Sora to label her former agriculture teacher as “cute” and “hot” in the gushing fangirl teenager stereotype. Like…Momoe giving sickeningly sappy gazes at the substitute teacher last Friday. Yes, like that.
Like that.
Nonetheless, Sora knew it wasn’t Mitsuki’s looks that drew her to him.
Perhaps it was his personality, then? While he wore a cold and stern frontage, the real Mitsuki-sensei was actually kind and warmhearted beneath those layers of North School coats. He was polite all around the clock (save the few times she broke his buttons from pushing them so hard with talk of being an outcast-oh he was scary back then, oh) and whenever he was serious, he was pleasantly serious, easy to talk to, rarely sarcastic or degrading, not like Seku, whose number line of emotions consisted of two ticks: indifferent and unpleasantly sardonic. (Although if one threw a penalty into the mix, seething and guilt also arose.) Mitsuki was real… fair… a gentleman.
But Sora knew in her heart, it wasn’t his personality either.
What other factors were there that attributed to irrational attachment of a man nearly a decade older than you? Financial status? Mitsuki wasn’t wealthy by any means. Background? She barely knew anything about his past other than the fact he had been engaged at one time, but the wedding was called off for unknown reasons. She was also vaguely aware that Mitsuki had an argument with the head of Duel Academia and was sent on a “forced vacation”, or without the sugarcoating-fired.
So was it pity then? Pity that a good man’s life was turned upside down due to some twisted workings of karma? Was that what she truly felt for him?
Settling on the most demeaning of reasons as to why she felt so obliged to make a former gardener’s life brighter, Sora glided down the wharf where a large metal submarine lay parked, bobbing up and down in resonance with the ocean’s waves. She weighed the option of yelling to get his attention, but opted for the simple knock-and-answer routine instead. Sora climbed onto the deck and examined the ‘door’: a metal dome that overhung from the rest of the apparatus with a wheel sticking out of it. She squatted down, looked the thing up and down, fingered the wheel for a moment, and then finally decided to rap her knuckles against the dome. She winced at how hard the metal was and waggled her hand to shake out the pain.
After a few seconds, an annoyed voice piped up from inside.
“Who’s there? If you’re some smartass from the island-beat it. We North Schoolers don’t want to see you guys until the tournament starts.”
Sora opened her mouth. But before she could utter a word in answer, a second voice joined in the warm and welcoming reception.
“That’s right! We’ve had our fair share of trouble from you Academia punks. Get a life, why don’t you? Go harass one of your own.”
She raised a finger in feeble protest, only to remember they couldn’t see her.
“GET THE FUCK OFF THE SUB!”
Sora twitched, and then sweatdropped. A pout compelled her features.
“…moo~”
She laid herself flat on the deck like a bun, anime-style. Guys were so mean sometimes.
After few minutes of parodying a mochi, hushed whispers beneath her stomach broke the silence.
“You think he’s gone?”
“Better be. I’ll kick the crap out of him if he’s still here.”
Sora scowled. This was ridiculous. Passiveness was getting her nowhere. Getting up and bundling together her nerves, she pounded the door once more. However, she was fully unprepared for the hatch to whip open and knock her off her feet and onto the metal flooring.
Two heads popped out, visibly aggravated, though their aggravation turned into confusion when the pair of boys laid sights on a groaning, mooing Sora.
“…at least it wasn’t the guy with the spear,” one of them commented.
The other nodded in agreement. “Hey….um…you!” he called to Sora. “What’s your business with us?”
“May I see Mitsuki-sensei?” she sulked, rubbing the sore spot where her head met contact with the metal sub.
When they opened the hatch, both North Schoolers were unprepared to deal with a girl, much less a ditzy girl who addressed their instructor as if he was her own. They exchanged confused looks, but were luckily saved the trouble of handling the situation by the appearance of aforementioned teacher. Yasuraka Mitsuki emerged from the safety of the submarine with an aura of authority parallel to that of a minister’s. He stared apathetically at the woozy girl, though there were faint sketches of irritation written across his face.
“What is it, Ms. Ishimaru? Speak your mind or leave,” he stated in a ‘no nonsense’ tone of voice.
Sadly, Sora wasn’t one with her insightful aptitude. Upon seeing the object of her infatuation? affection? desire? ...goal, she immediately rebounded from her lethargic state to a bubbly teenager.
“Hello, Mitsuki-sensei~" she chirped. "How are you today? Good? Great! So...I was wondering if you’d like to come to the pier and fish with me. I'd love it if you did~ Will you?”
Mitsuki arched an eyebrow. “You disrupted our peace and quiet with a request to do something I'm capable of performing at any given time?” he deadpanned, gesturing at the waters that surrounded them.
“…um, yes?”
He wrinkled his nose. “I’m sorry but I won’t be able to accompany you fishing.” Her crestfallen expression forced his pained conscience to add, “Maybe you can ask one of your friends to go with you.”
“Oh, but, I sort of wanted you to come with me, bara.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m not very good at fishing and need someone with the proper skills to teach me.”
"I'm listening. You may continue.”
"And, um, seeing as you are one of the top teachers at the school, I believe that your expansive knowledge of fishing is the greatest that this island has to offer."
Mitsuki looked complacent. “Fair enough."
Behind him, the two North School boys exchanged a sigh with a roll of the eyes. That Sora brat must have known that Mitsuki was easily swayed by sweet cajoling to his coaching ego. Oh, the weaknesses of being a former teacher with no respect from the kids.
“So will you come?” Sora asked hopefully, oblivious that she was exploiting his Achilles' heel. "We don't have to fish by the pier, if you don't want to."
Despite the fanservice to his self-esteem, Mitsuki was still hesitant. “I have work to finish. And as one of the two adults on this submarine, I must also supervise all my students…”
”Erland told me that Ayukawa-sensei, Hibiki-sensei, and Nagato-sensei were sunbathing down by the beach.”
He turned to his students. “You boys are fully capable of fending after yourselves.”
They sweatdropped.
“Tell the others I’ll be out for a while with some extracurricular activities. Don’t get into trouble.”
“Mmkay.”
“…yes sir.”
Mitsuki stepped onto the deck and closed the hatch once his students had disappeared.
“So you decided to come! Hurray!” Sora cheered and threw her arms into the air.
He cast her a nonchalant look laced with irritation. “... this is only to make you shut up and leave North School grounds."
"Mooo~" she beamed, not believing a word he said. He looked even more irritated.
"You are not a cow. Now let's go!"
"Coming~!"
"... argggh! Getoffme!"
And now Sora realized why she loved him so much. Because he pretended to feel just the opposite towards her.
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Title: Should be put in a pit and left to rot
Character(s): Ishimaru Sora, Yasuraka Mitsuki
Summary: The Griggleshipping couple have lunch.
Time frame: Refer to the last fic.
Mitsuki was restraining himself from the ever-so tempting urge to headdesk. Or more appropriately, headlunchtable. Here he was, sitting at a grimy cafeteria table, sticking out of the crowd of royal blue with his thick bulky coat in a shade of manure brown, surrounded by students that he despised and whom despised him (though for totally opposite reasons), and accompanying this strange childlike girl with ridiculous hair and the mentality of a chipmunk who was currently sulking over her pizza like she just lost her biological mother to cancer.
“Mooo~”
He clamped a hand over his eyes. And the mooing. What was up with the mooing? Was she a cow in her previous life or something?
Sora miserably picked at his pizza. “Moo,” she mooed sullenly.
“Are you going to finish that or not? Because if you aren’t, then let us kindly leave.”
As if her stomach had sprouted ears, it gave up an empty rumble in response to Mitsuki’s demand. He rolled his eyes. “Ms. Ishimaru, you’re wasting my time with this nonsense.”
Sora frowned. “Oh fine, I’ll eat…”
She took of a bite of the pizza before looking at Mitsuki. “Hey, Mitsuki-sensei? Tell me, what made you want to become a teacher?”
“Educating others is one of the greatest gifts an individual like myself can give to the masses.”
Sora took a bite of her pizza. “And?”
Mitsuki looked at her as if to ask “And what?” with a raised eyebrow-in which she stared back at him with large, innocent eyes and cheese dribbling down her chin.
“…doubles as a dating service,” he muttered, glancing away. He expected her to laugh, but to his surprise, her composure remained even.
“Can’t imagine why you’re so desperate to find a woman though,” she said.
“Because I am.”
“You shouldn’t worry about such things. You had a fiancée in the past, regardless of the canceled wedding, which means that you have the right qualities to attract females.”
“Quite,” Mitsuki replied coolly, looking disinterested. He folded his arms on the table and glanced around the cafeteria, searching for a plausible excuse to get away from her. Where were inflatable proxies when you needed one?
Nonetheless, Sora remained apathetic to Mitsuki’s suspicious behavior. “…stop thinking ‘why am I getting romantic advice from a teenager’.”
His head swerved back to her. “I was doing no such thing, Ms. Ishimaru,” he stated, indignant. “…nosy brat,” he muttered under his breath.
“Why did you use a plant deck in the past?”
What was this, an interrogation? “Why do you use a plant deck in the present?”
“Technically, I use a rose-themed deck. But anyway, I don’t know why I use them. Roses represent beauty and sophistication while thorns represent pain in the most subtle of places.”
“Do you think they symbolize you?”
“…um, not really. I’m neither sophisticated nor am I … I mean… do I want to hurt others.”
“You see. The deck you play is part of yourself. They hold different meanings for everyone.”
“So why do you use zombies now?”
“Death and rebirth. A cycle of life.”
“A new beginning?”
“Maybe.”
A pause.
"... enjoying that pizza, Ms. Ishimaru?"
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Title: Untitled
Characters: Ishimaru Sora, Yasuraka Mitsuki, Tanaka Yukio
Summary: An AU snippet of how SVE imagined Sora and Yukio's inital encounter to be.
Time frame: Refer to the last fic.
“Sora,” Mitsuki's voice was suddenly pensive (and did she detect a hint of fear?), “Get behind me. Quickly.”
Sora complied without argument. Her initial reaction was fear. But then feeling the back of Mitsuki’s thick coat against her cheek, the warmth of his body in front of hers, and the unspoken declaration of concern that hung in the atmosphere overwhelmed her negative emotions. Whoever it was, Mitsuki-sensei would deal with him or her appropriately.
“Is it not Saturday?” she heard Mitsuki say with a tone of forced indifference; his voice was odd, suddenly guarded, “If so, God should not be up and about; he should rest.”
“Indeed,” a voice replied in cool, refined charisma that sent chills up her spine. “I see that you have taken in consideration for the holy day.” Sora felt Mitsuki tense up when the voice continued, “You needn’t hide her. There is nothing concealed from the eyes of God.”
Sora slowly stepped out of Mitsuki’s shadow and made herself visible to the intruder. To no surprise, he was a boy in his late teens with wind-swept hair the color of morning glories and glasses perched on his nose. He was tall in stature and the way he held himself only served to emphasize his height even more. Angled jawbone, broad shoulders, eyes that were calm, calculating, and devoid of the natural confusion that came with adolescence-if wasn’t wearing a student uniform, she would have easily mistaken him for someone in their late twenties.
To most, this boy was an idol to be feared with his God-like dueling techniques and frightening electro kinetic abilities that struck down more than a dozen victims since his return from the Abandoned Dorm.
To Sora, however, this boy was her brother. A living, breathing symbol of her brother to be exact.
Likewise, Yukio sensed something different about Sora to the other people he met on the island. Having only laid eyes on her for the first time, he already detected that she possessed a unique quality he couldn’t lay his finger on. It wasn’t innocence, it wasn’t curiosity, nor willpower.
“Your name, miss?”
“Ishimaru Sora at your service.” She tugged at the corners of her dress and carried out her trademark greeting curtsey.
Comprehension dawned on him. “You are the girl that mistaken I for thou’s own brother.”
“Yes. And you are the one who has been passing judgment on the students here.”
“Yet even knowing this, you approach me with politeness.”
“You remind me of my Oniisan.”
“I’ll reiterate what I said before: I am no such person. I am Tanaka Yukio.”
“Ah. I understand, bara.” She replied, keeping her eyes down. “…would you like to join me and Mitsuki-sensei in fishing?”
“Miss Ishimaru, I’m afraid I must object to that idea. Although you may feel comfortable around him, I personally rather not be graced with Tanaka-san’s presence.”
“Understandable. I shall take my leave then.”
“Maybe some other time-bara?”
“Perhaps.”
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Title: God
Characters: Ishimaru Sora, Yasuraka Mitsuki, Tanaka Yukio
Summary: Sort of takes place after the previous ficlet. Sora tries to reason with Yukio and his messiah judgment complex.
Time frame: Refer to the last fic.
“You are a dream. Everyone is a dream.”
“…I’m not a dream, Yukio-niisan.”
“Yes, you are. You are an illusion in this world that I’ve created.”
“That makes no sense. I am real. I am me.”
“Nonsense. You are a dream living inside my dreams.”
“Fine, I am a dream.”
“That you are. Now I have no time to waste idly chattering with dreams so leave.”
“You don’t seem busy. Would you like to do something together? We can go fishing… or maybe you could tutor me. My grades aren’t as high as I’d like them to be.”
“No. Are you deaf? Did you not hear my previous words? I am a busy man and will not squander time nattering with the likes of you.”
“I think they did. But it doesn’t really matter to me. If Yukio-niisan thinks I’m a dream, then I am a dream to Yukio-niisan. But even so, I want to have fun.”
“Irrelevant. Now leave me be or I shall force you to leave.”
“Toge. If I’m bothering you so much, then why don’t you just punish me? Hit me with thunder.”
“I will do no such thing.”
“…you don’t like it when other people are obedient to you.”
“Nonsense. Mortals should bow down to their God.”
“But not so passively. You want to force them to be obedient. You want people to deny your philosophies, disbelieve you, make fun and ridicule your ideas-just so you can crush them in the end. You don’t want peace transactions. You want conflict and power: two very human-like qualities.”
“You’re mistaken. I am not a mortal. I am God. I created this world. You, the students and teachers here…they are all my creation.”
“Being able to manipulate other people’s illusionary will makes you feel in control. If everyone were just mindless drones who didn’t retaliate to your words, this dream world of yours would be a dull place. Passing judgments over their reprisal makes it real. It is this violence that disrupts the nothingness in your world and explains your existence.”
“Cognito Ergo Sum. I think, therefore I am. Knowing that explains my existence.”
“Bara…"
"What is it?"
"... well... that French man wasn’t the one who invented the philosophy. A millennia before him, a Saint from Algeria came up with a similar theory: Si Fallor, Sum. I am mistaken, therefore I am. But ... it is impossible to be mistaken about our own existence. If we don’t exist, then we cannot be mistaken, as there cannot be something in nothingness…so..."
"...we might as well believe that we exist," a male voice finished. Mitsuki stepped out from behind the tree and stared Yukio squarely in the eye.
"Cut the crap already. If you were really God, you wouldn't be a Japanese man playing a trading card game."