A Firefly's Glow

Chapter Twelve: Part Three

I scrolled my gaze across the towering set of double doors that stood before me.

“Welcome to the Theatre Room, #6,” Amanatsu gestured towards the doors.

I released his sleeve as Amanatsu reached for the handle of the door.

“Um, do I wait outside?” I nervously questioned.

“Nah, I think you can come in.”

Before I could hesitate, Amanatsu grasped onto my arm and lunged me into the room.

The room had been filled with chattering. Somehow, the volume of the chattering was indeed respectable, but it wasn’t as formal as Class 1-Division C.

As I stumbled into the room, Amanatsu released his tight grip on my arm. I peered around the classroom with wide, curious eyes.

I slowly walked in, glimpsing at my surroundings. The light emanating from the spotless, wide windows cheerfully lit up the room. The classroom resembled any of the other classrooms, but this particular classroom was different from my previous class just a couple of hours before.

The first differed detail was a deep platform lined with perfectly polished wood. It dug into the wall like a separate room, and its ceiling was much, much shorter than the domed ceiling of the classroom.

Black curtains surrounded the platform, loosely hanging from the wood that hung from the platform’s ceiling.

Several chalkboards lined the walls, and they were fully scribbled with white streaks.

The air of this classroom differed from the other classrooms. It was carefree and broad.

It was informal.

I glimpsed at the students scattered across the classroom and I noticed something peculiar.

When I slowly sauntered into the room, I caught a few gazes that flew over towards me. But these were the only gazes that I caught.

The rest of the students were either sprawled across the floor, standing beside walls, or sauntering around the room at a relaxed speed. I didn’t feel the same, piercing stares I did from the last five hours of Seika Academy.

“Hotaru!” a familiar, ecstatic voice chimed throughout the room and I whipped my gaze towards it. Mikan fiercely waved towards me, brandishing a stiff arm for my attention.

I hurried over towards her, dodging the obstacles of students.

I would have sat down in the desk beside her, although Mikan wasn’t exactly sitting on a desk. Instead, she sat in what looked like a stuffed potato sack.

I spotted an identical potato sack beside her. I turned my gaze around the room. Several of these potato sacks were scattered around the room in a neat, orchestrated fashion. The dark color specifically matched the platform’s curtains.

What peculiar desks these were.

I lowered myself towards the potato sack. I nervously sank lower and lower until Mikan let out a heaved sigh and yanked my arm.

I fell onto the potato sack and jumped in place.

“What kind of desks are these?” I nervously asked, shifting clumsily on my potato sack and imitating the similar moves of a break dancer.

“You don’t know what a bean bag is?” Mikan questioned in mild shock.

“Potato sack?” I recited, pausing my shifting and shoving my briefcase onto the floor.

“No, bean bag.”

“Potato sack.”

Mikan’s voice began to rant. She exhaustedly nudged my shoulders.

I listened to only a portion of her speech before I lingered into space.

“Look, Hotaru. It is called a bean bag because it has little bead things in it. They’re not beans, so don’t try to eat them. I ate one once . . . but it was only once. But Amanatsu put them in his nose when he was three. He’s such a genius. Anyway—“

I would have spent the next thirty seconds wondering why I would stuff beans into my nose, or why I would eat something that people have sat on. But my gaze trailed away from Mikan’s rant and towards the platform that stood at the front of the room.

I recognized that platform from somewhere.

I peered at the potato sack I was sitting in. I’ve sat in a seat like this before.

Somehow sitting in this seat reminded me of a strange pain that had enveloped my back.

“Exams,” was what I randomly blurted aloud.

Mikan abruptly paused her rant. “What about exams?”

“Um . . .” my voice trailed away and I automatically lingered onto a new subject.

“Wait, isn’t the teacher of this classroom—“

“Settle down class!” a familiar, cheery voice chimed as the double doors creaked open. A tall figure ambled into the room. His shaggy, cherry tinted hair was tied into a loose ponytail that swung behind his shoulders.

He seemed to skim his gaze through the classroom in search. When his gaze landed on me, he lightly nodded with his welcoming smile.

“Welcome to Theatre Room #6, Hotaru-chan,” Haruka grinned as the scattered students assembled around the room. Students raced towards potato sacks in mild competition.

Amanatsu threw himself into the empty potato sack beside me and jabbed a thumbs-up into the air.

Several pairs of eyes lingered towards me, but there was something peculiar about their eyes that different from the eyes of Class 1-Division C of that morning.

Their eyes weren’t narrowed in suspicion or widened in anxiety.

They were relaxed.

They were curious.

Haruka rolled the thin scroll of parchment in his hands. “Has Hanabusa-kun returned from the nurse’s office?”

Soft murmurs flew through the room. My gaze traveled through the students that sat around me.

Their voices were hushed and rapid. Their gazes were wide and concerned.

But almost all of the students that surrounded me seemed to immediately whipped their gazes around the room at the sound of his name, as if he was somewhere in the room watching them.

I heard a voice beside me loudly chime in response to Haruka.

“No, he’s still in the nurse’s office,” Mikan raised a stiff arm into the air.

“Thank you, Mashiro-chan,” Haruka gave Mikan a firm nod. He turned his gaze back to the scroll he held in his hands. “Let’s begin attendance.”

As he read unfamiliar names throughout the classroom, I dropped myself back into thought.

Theatre class all made sense now.

I was simply and possibly placed into this class because Keita attends Theatre as well.

But a question scrolled through my mind.

Why would such an emotionless person like him take Theatre?