worn out.

I For Inert

Karasuma tapped at his computer, spiked black hair reaching up in all its glory. He bit his cheeks gently and stared out the dirty windows into the forest that encompassed the E-class building he worked at. He is tired and, in all honesty, done with everyone's shit. He grumples before going back to staring at his computer screen-- right, I need to finish.

He goes back to filing a report, the computer stutters, it glitches and slowly shuts down, the internet is trash.

He sighs as the woman in front of him whines, another distraction from his work. Her face is contorted into something hideous. Eyebrows furrowed and nose scrunched, her lips twist into a snarl and she stands up. She's sick of him not listening to her.

"Someone better slap the piss out of them. I am too fine a woman to be one upped by a bunch of punks." She slams her hand on the table, her pink nail polish is chipped, Karasuma takes notice, she keeps biting on her polished nails.

"They'd be lucky to lick the mud of my Stilettos!" Her rant is cut off by the agent in front of her, his cold eyes haze foreword, they do not meet her's, but she can see the irritation in them. He sighs.

"In case you haven't noticed, sweetheart, the children don't exactly agree with that assessment." He stops typing, the melodic sound coming to a halt. He clenches his hands and makes eye contact with her. "If your going to stick around for another attempt, I suggest you suck it up, get in there and give them an apology."

His eyes are slits, they glare like daggers. She stares at him, as if it is the most mortifying thing anyone has ever said to her, as if his emotionless words hold a deeper meaning than the one they give on a surface level. "You want me to do what!?" She screeches as if she's a pterodactyl, it makes his ears ring.

"I'm an accomplished assassin, not a glorified Rugrat wrangler, let me focus on what I'm qualified for!" A bargain, he refuses, it is obvious he does not care.

He groans and slowly gets up via putting pressure on the desk his computer sits on. "Oh fine, whatever." He rolls his eyes. His hand massages the sides of his his forehead to sooth the oncoming headache he can feel emerge from the deepest parts of his soul.

"Just come with me, please." He kicks his chair back. His raspy voice drones on, but she follows command and trails on after him, her glaring eyes suited ahead. As if it were all inferior to her. She follows anyway. They walk to a secluded area in the forest, finding Korosensei doing a flurry of activities, holding a triangular measuring device that's name is stuck in the back of Irinas' head. He is writing on paper at mach twenty, his shiny eyes hazed with adoration as he mumbles about what things to write.

"What's he doi–

"Hey, Korosensei?" Everyone turns. Irina Jelavic, Tadaomi Karasuma, and the alien teacher himself, Korosensei. The military expert was not expecting this. He just wanted to explain to the bitch he's working with how important it is to play two roles in this hell of a place.

"Y-yes, Atsu my boy?" The octopus asks, surprise evident in his tone. His tentacles are frozen midair, danger, his senses scream.

Irina Jelavic hitches, her breath is stuck in her throat with anticipation, the agent beside her raises an eyebrow at the turn of events. He bites his lower lip.

"If the urge of a thought becomes to much to keep inside, it becomes a compulsion, correct?" The dark haired boys' hands are clammy. Cold. His eyes are hard as stone, as hard as concrete.

Everyone freezes in their tracks.

A bird chirp, it's call echoing through the forest mountain. It's brown wings flutter by, the world is frozen, yet it still dare to defy earths notion. They all snap out of their daze.

"Yes, that'd be correct, Atsu. Why do you ask?" The otherworldly creature is baffled knowing the boy in front of him is reserved and usually doesn't speak. The creature shivers, goosebumps forming over his slimy shell of a skin.

"Nothing really. Ah, also if you have the urge to beat something up, to cause pain, why do people act on that impulse? There are other ways to release stress, so why do people do it physically?" His tone is lighter, curious, almost, but his eyes are still fake, they are frozen in ice, in the cold sea.

"Some people don't know of any other way." Is the teachers immediate response, the octopus thinks back to the boy by the roof, the one enthralled by blood. He is immobile once more, beady black eyes looking at something else, at someone else.

Atsu recalls back to the time his father taught self defense, how tired he used to be, how calm he was. He recalls the man's dopey grin and deep laughter echoing through a small apartment in the quiet part of town. He recalled when his mother would smoke, just smoke, how calm she was, before she threw alcohol into the mix-- but they do know. He is trapped. Between his inability to understand his emotions and his parents constant torment, which makes him suppress his ever growing hatred further.

"Thanks, I guess." The dull boy responds, his dark hair is teetering behind him, jumping for life. Crying for help.

A frog crickets, chirping a hollow laugh at the tweeting bird above him, the amphibian has escaped death once more. The fly that crosses him is not as lucky. It is sucked in by death itself.

The insect cries, it cries and screams. It yells for safety. To go home, to a happy place.

It falls on deaf ears and the boy heads back to class, they gave a quiz tomorrow and it's study hall, he should prepare. Another chip, another crack on his bottle, it fizzles and pops, more liquid seeps out from the cracks.

I is for Inert;

I am as low as grovel, as dirt

And as I sink into the earth

My head going first

I sit in the dark and wonder

About some kind of blunder

Some stupid indecision

From when you left my field of vision

And as much as I'd hate to know

Just where did you go?

Was it up in Heaven

Your eternal safe haven

Or deep down in Hell?

God I hope this is just some kind of spell

Well this is it, I bid you farewell.