Now I find myself in a sanctuary. A place that hides me from the piercing gaze of the world outside, the piercing gaze of a certain demon. Walls that offer solace, sheltering me from the storm that rages beyond. The space, this cocoon of shadows, becomes a canvas for the art of concealment.
It is the delicate balance between presence and absence. To exist, yet remain unseen; to move without leaving a trace.
In this concealed realm, I find the dance of light and shadow to be a reflection of life's enigmatic nature. Just as the moon waxes and wanes in the night sky, revealing its luminance in fragments, so too do we expose ourselves in fleeting moments, never fully revealing our depths. Like whispers carried by the wind, the essence of who we are remains hidden from the world's discerning eye.
There is beauty in the veiled, a charm in the concealed. The ambiguity and uncertainty can shroud you in an aura of allure, drawing others closer while keeping them at bay. Each step that will be taken then will feel like a brushstroke, not just upon the canvas of reality, but upon your own existence. Every gesture, every breath, a masterpiece in its own right, yet buried within the folds of the enigmatic dance.
In the play of shadows, I become an instrument, an observer of the grand spectacle of life unfolding around me. The art of hiding is not a mere absence but a presence in itself. It is the embodiment of the unspoken, the embodiment of the untold stories hidden within the depths of one's soul.
In the concealment, I find freedom. Freedom from the boundaries imposed by societal expectations and most of all, freedom from that relentless specter that haunts me. Here, in the realm of secrets, I find my own solace.
"What are you doing, Ayanokouji-kun?"
And now, that solace is no more.
"Uh, nothing?"
"Then, why are you here?" she questions, her eyes searching for any hint of deception.
"...Just taking a break."
The time is about 4:44 pm, and we find ourselves at training ground A—the only area allowed and large enough to accommodate an entire class. Surprisingly, nearly everyone has gathered here, a clear effect of the influence of Hirata and Kushida, their charisma drawing the class together.
As for me, I've been taking respite in the passageway between the main grounds and the southeast side bleachers. It's a secluded spot, tucked away from the main activity. Few venture here, and unless you approach the area closely, it remains concealed from prying eyes—the perfect hiding place for moments like these.
"Hmm, if I recall, I heard that Horikita-san was looking for you, wait for a moment, I'll call for her."
Oh, come on...
As she was about to leave, I quickly reached out and grabbed her wrist, effectively halting her in her tracks. When I did that she simply looked at me in amusement.
"Horik—," she started to shout.
Before she could even finish, I covered her mouth with my other hand, muffling any further words and dragged her into the dimly lit passageway.
"Not one word from you, Matsushita, you got it?" I urged.
For a moment, she seemed taken aback, but then understanding flickered in her eyes. She gave a subtle nod, signaling her agreement to my plea for silence. Relieved, I slowly removed my hand from her mouth, but I couldn't help but be annoyed of how amused she was with this situation.
"So, why are you here? For real this time," she asked as soon as I set her free.
"As you might have guessed, hiding."
YOU ARE READING
Classroom of the Elite: Monster Academy
Fanfic"The Masterpiece had escaped." In order to be free of his pursuers, Ayanokouji Kiyotaka had found himself enrolling into the prestigious Advanced Nurturing Spirit Academy --- the only place they cannot reach. It towered as the best institution in Ja...
