My Teacher's An Assassin? (** Hiatus**)

・6・

To keep it simple, (Y/N) felt utterly humiliated. Just staring at his mildly battered reflection in the mirror was enough to anger the teen to no end.

How could a skinny little short stack of a person like his teacher who hadn't looked a day over sixteen completely dominate him in combat? (Y/N) was strong and decently built for his age. He wasn't the best fighter, but he was better than most and he knew how to adapt to one's pattern and movements, but in Nagisa's presence it seemed as if every move (Y/N) executed was wrong.

The teen—for once—didn't have the energy to become entangled within his own anger for the time being. (Y/N) held a conflicted expression all the while proceeding to use a cloth dampened in rubbing alcohol to clean the scrapes and cuts on his arms and face. He used bandaids to gradually cover the multiple irritated areas on his body for the time being. It wasn't much, but at least he didn't have to worry about any weird infections.

"(Y/N)! I'm home~" The teen heard from downstairs from his mother. (Y/N) decided not to respond to his guardian, instead he found it more reasonable to just hole himself in his room for the night. He could hear the front door close followed by a sigh of content as the older woman began to settle into the home. "Son? I know you're home: I can see the bathroom light on at the top of the stairs." She called out again, not amused with the lack in effort (Y/N) was putting up to be absent.

"I'm going to bed." The teen hollered back bluntly, switching off the bathroom light and throwing his shirt back on in attempts to cover his injuries as much as possible.

"Well sheesh, kid—" she stated in some disbelief, gazing up at the shadowy figure at the top of the staircase. "Could you at least tell me how your first day went?"

The teen paused for a moment in front of his bedroom door. It didn't help that his mother had to remind (Y/N) of the humiliation he had to bear through on his way home. The teen's hands clenched into fists. He could feel the uncontainable surge of anger climbing up his body just from the thought of that what he considered a smug blue haired show off.

Within seconds, the teenager found his sanity and took a deep breath. "...I'm gonna take the rest of tha' week off." (Y/N) informed with the little composure he withheld.

With that being final between the two, (Y/N) shut himself in his room for the rest of the night, his mother figuring it was best not to bother the teenager for the time being.

〠「°♨︎○:◎~⇔~◎:○♨︎°」〠

Eventually "the rest of the week" turned into two weeks, going onto almost a full month since (Y/N) had returned back to school. Usually his mother would've gotten onto him about not taking school seriously, considering it was one of the only reason they'd moved to Tokyo; However, the older woman reconsidered hence seeing the multiple bandaged areas upon her son's arms and cheeks from time to time: She presumed the teen had gotten into yet another fight with a student, so she decided not to make a fuss about it. (Y/N)'s mother knew very well the teen struggled with school in many ways, even if he didn't inform her of his minor endeavors he encountered—But she definitely wasn't going to let him miss the entire school year.

Over the course of the month the movers were finally able to arrive with all of their belongings, and it didn't take long for (Y/N) to finish rearranging his new room to his liking. Even at his old home, there wasn't much he had in his room besides a bed, a punching bag, a set of 45 pound dumbbells, a raggedy wooden desk and an old television that probably didn't even work anymore—But that didn't stop (Y/N) from holding onto it for so long.