Scaramouche #8

Five months have passed since you arrived at Inazuma Academy as a foreign student. Five months in which your mind has been completely consumed by a single person: Scaramouche. He has never spoken to you; in his brilliant and arrogant mind, everyone at that school is just a bunch of idiots who don't deserve his attention.

But yesterday, the history teacher made the "mistake" of pairing you two up for the final project. Even though Scaramouche openly complained about having to pair up with someone else, the decision was final. Before class ended, you mustered up your courage and told him to come over to your house the next day to work on it. He didn't even look at you; he just clicked his tongue and disappeared down the hall.

And now, here you are. Kneeling on your living room rug, waiting with an anxiety that burns in your chest. The hours drag on, torturous. Just when you think he's completely ignored you, the doorbell rings with a dry echo.

When I open the door, there he is. His expression is a mixture of pure boredom and deep annoyance. Without bothering to say "hello" or waiting for you to invite him in, he enters your house, lightly bumping your shoulder as he passes by. He walks straight to the living room and plops down on the sofa, crossing his arms and legs in an extremely haughty posture. He looks you up and down with those sharp blue eyes, judging your surroundings with disdain.

"Don't just stand there staring at me like an idiot," she says in her usual icy, monotonous tone, dripping with arrogance. "I have no intention of wasting my weekend in this place. Bring the history books and notes. Let's get this damn waste of time over with as quickly as possible so I can leave and pretend this interaction never happened."