Elective [2]

It was a gray April morning. The clock struck ten.

A young child fidgeted on the sofa. Tiny fingers twisted a plastic toy, each turn producing a faint squeak. The ambrosial aroma of agarbatti flooded the room, cozying up the milieu.

From the kitchen came a simmering sound. Chicken pozole—its rich aroma seeped into the room.

On the windowsill, behind the child, a spider plant sat. The child's attention drifted to the windowsill. There, an ant trail. The ants seemed to carry... a butterfly wing. Lost in the scene, his grip loosened. The toy dropped.

A ringtone pierced the silence.

The boy's head snapped up.

A man, phone pressed to his ear.

Shoulder-length black curls. Dark eyes. Mid-thirties. A frown etched deep.

He was the child's father. Sighing deeply, the man answered the call.

Click! "Hello?"

"Yes?"

"Yes, I'll arrive momentarily."

Abrupt. Urgent. The call ended.

The man stood, ready to leave. He didn't want to go, but he had to. For a moment, he might have entertained the thought of staying, but he shook it off.

"Where do you think you're going?" A woman's voice cut through the tension, sharp with annoyance as she emerged from the kitchen which was attached to the living room.

Mid-thirties. Black auburn hair, styled in curtain bangs. Beautiful. She was beautiful.

"Ciao, Acacia. My team needs me," John said, his voice rough, like sandpaper on wood. He tried not to look her in the eyes.

"No... no. You need rest, John! You're..." She glanced around for the kids before biting her lip and softly adding, "...injured." Her voice was stern, her frown deepened with worry.

"Acacia, it's urgent," John replied, stressing the word, his gaze hinting to the child in the room.

Her anger gave way to a trace of sadness. She approached him, her steps light on the carpet. With careful grace, she reached out, her fingers brushing his cheek.

Her touch was warm. They locked eyes, and in that silent moment, their hearts spoke, saying what words could not.

Without warning, the boy leaped from the couch.

He ran to John, wrapping his small arms around his leg. "Dada going where?" he asked, innocent eyes wide. "Aren't you sick?"

"Duty calls, buddy," John said, his voice cheerful, a hint of glee. "No need to worry, ain't I strong?" He gave a bright wink.

"Duty?" The child tilted his head, puzzled.

John's hand rested gently on the boy's head. "It's something important I must do."

Noah furrowed his brow. "If not?"

"Bad faith. Small inaction grows into something bigger. Negative karma!" John's smile creased the corners of his eyes.

"Duties and responsibilities must be followed. Remember that, Noah," John said softly, leaning down to pat his head. And as he did, the 'S' locket around his neck slipped out of his shirt, its gunmetal gray surface and reptilian texture catching the light.

Then—a sensation. Cold and damp.

A thin line of burgundy snaked around the locket. A dark, tar-like substance seeped from its edges. Drops fell, one after another, dotting the white marble floor, red.

It was blood.

Right then, a bright light burst through the window.

Glass shattered, spiderwebbing into a thousand pieces. The ant trail... writhed, twisting unnaturally. The flower pot cracked with an ear-splitting noise. The butterfly wings blackened and curled as if consumed by invisible flames...

John's face disfigured, melting.

The light intensified, exploding in a blinding white flash.

***

Noah's eyes snapped open.

He was awake but gasping heavily for air.

His heart was pounding wildly in his chest, blood flowed to his head. Thumping in his ears.

Instinctively, he reached for the nightstand, taking the water bottle from it and downing the whole thing in a few gulps.

Slowly, he calmed down, although still anxious.

The faint moonlight through the picture window bathed his naked torso in a heavenly glow.

His hostel room was still dark, only faintly lit with the moon's light.

It was still night.

The only sound in the silent room was the relentless ticking of the wall clock. Three in the morning.

Glimpses. The images of his childhood memory flashed in his mind... parts of what now was that horrible dream.

"Shit...!" Noah groaned in a silent whisper.

Sitting up on the edge of the bed, he grabbed the pill bottle of benzodiazepine on the nightstand. Twisting it open, he swallowed all the tablets in quick succession.

A digital message flashed in his retina, followed by the nanites' monotone:

[Alert! Lethal dosage of depressant drugs detected!]

Calmly, Noah stood up, walking near the window.

His eyes were on the sky; there were constellations and stars he had never seen before. And as he was looking at the sky, he let out in a calm and soft voice, "Appraise it."

[Command acknowledged. Initiating compound decomposition protocol. Benzodiazepine is being disassembled into core molecular components: chloro, methyl, phenyl, and related structures. Additional substances undergoing processing. System stabilization achieved. Substance successfully assimilated. Bio-synthesis reserves at 100%. Energy Core efficiency at 99.8%.]

The night was still long, but Noah's sleep was gone.

***

With a sigh, Aurora asked, "Whatever! So, decided on which elective you'll join?" She put extra emphasis on which.

Takahashi's response was curt. "Not really. I was thinking of joining a combat-related elective since nothing in particular caught my eye."

They were talking as they made their way to section 15-A.

There, they'd pick an elective from a whole list of options at the clerk's office.

Takahashi, hands shoved into his pockets, kept his aloof demeanor, hiding any trace of emotion.

Aurora tilted her head, listening closely, her hair falling over her uniform blazer. A perfect match for her regal look.

She rolled her eyes at Takahashi's reply and pinched the bridge of her nose. Something wasn't right.

They'd already discussed picking magic topology or the dungeon course. This sudden change of heart caught her off guard.

After the sparring session, Takahashi's usual energy had faded. Muted. Detached.

Aurora had a pretty good idea why.

Without missing a beat, Takahashi said, in his calm, even tone, "It just feels like the right thing to do right now."

"Yeah, right... You're totally not upset about losing the match to Aeravat, so now you want to grow stronger. And you're definitely doing this after careful thought," Aurora teased.

Takahashi flinched. "Whatever do you mean?" he stammered, voice barely audible.

"It's written all over your face, dummy!" Aurora said with a grin. Takahashi quickly looked away, staring at the ground like he could find a hole to crawl into.

Losing might not be a big deal to others. But to Takahashi, who had never lost before it was a huge shock.

"Hey, mind if I join in?" Suddenly, Sophia chimed in.

"Oh, hey Sophie!" Aurora replied cheerfully, while Takahashi just gave a slight nod.

"You guys headed to the clerk's office?"

"Yeah, but we haven't decided on which elective to choose yet. What about you?"

Swatting her hair away from her forehead, Sophia replied, "I'm thinking of either the dungeon course or one of the combat electives."

Aurora raised an eyebrow. "You too?

Why do you want to join a combat course? Even Takahashi was thinking the same. Don't we already get enough practice in training sessions?"

Sophia tilted her head. "Is that so?"

The corridor to the clerk's office was relatively quiet. The three of them walked together, ready to pick their electives. Mandatory for every student. Sophia then noticed a guy walking toward them from the opposite side of the hallway. His deathly pale skin, dark eyes, and even darker hair made him easy to recognize.

The group spotted him immediately. After all, he was a 'misfit.'

How could anyone not recognize him with that distinctly different look?

Noah walked right past them, not even glancing their way. Like they didn't exist.

Sophia frowned. "What's up with him? Does he think he's some big shot?"

Aurora comforted her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Leave him be, Sophie. He's just a loser anyway."

...

Noah made his way towards the chemistry lab, his eyes unusually serious.

His otherwise carefree demeanor was replaced with an aloof and emotionless appearance.

His mind preoccupied with thoughts. Thoughts he didn't wish to entertain, even for a moment.

The sound of his footsteps echoed through the empty corridors, their rhythm monotonous.

The smell of the freshly-polished floors mingled with the scent of the disinfectant used to clean them.

Noah felt a very odd sense of detachment from his surroundings, or more to say, from the world itself, as if he was walking in a dream.

The fluorescent lights overhead hummed a steady tune, their light casting a sterile hue across the hallway, making everything seem lifeless and artificial. Maybe things were better this way for what he was about to do.

Threatening a man's entire family was not something Noah considered morally correct.

But...morality can sometimes be a subjective matter. And sometimes the end justified the means.

That's right, this was the only way and what he was doing, was ultimately for the greater good.

This was his duty. With a deep breath he steeled his resolve.

"Now is not the time to grow a heart."