"Stand!" The teacher, a serious and obviously overworked woman with hair tied into a ponytail - whom I would in adulthood realize was disliked by the class for reasons which were largely stupid and unfair - declared from her desk.
We stood from our wooden seats, some of the students already starting to pack up the literature textbooks we'd just been reviewing into their bags.
"Veils!" she said next, her voice fatigued.
I pulled my veil from where it had come to rest on the collar of my mostly-black uniform up to cover my face, while the rest of the class did the similar, impatience in the air. The teacher looked over the group, making sure nobody had done it too clumsily, then nodded.
"Alright," she said. "Dismissed."
At once, everyone turned and headed for the doorway, some people breaking out into conversation. I was a little behind the rest, confirming that I had a homework paper for economics class that I'd been worrying I hadn't picked up, then quickly putting my pen back in its case and shoving everything into my shoulder bag, which I hefted up before leaving, stepping out into the crowded and noisy corridor. I caught snippets of the other students speaking as I walked, keeping my head down.
"...god, I can't believe she chewed you out so much for that line reading, what a..."
"...gonna be doing anything in club today? I think I'm gonna have to go home early, but..."
"...I know, it looks so shitty! It's so obvious the team cut the budget for the..."
I passed out of the hallway and into the entrance of the building, which was the larger of the two Saoic parts of the school. Aside from a large board where the staff put up notes for the students, the area was filled with rows of lockers and, at the back, a display by the history club, which was headquartered in this building. It seemed to be focused on New Kingdoms era stuff, with a large map of the old world displayed prominently, showing the various nations from the time, along with the names of the continents in much larger text I could actually read: Asia, Libya, Europa...
I only gave it a passing glance on my way out, heading over to my locker to gather up my clothes from gym class. As I opened it up, I heard footsteps approaching me from behind.
"Shiko, Shiko!" A bubbly girl's voice called out cheerfully.
I turned awkwardly, taken a little off guard. I could only see the barest outline of her face behind the veil, but I knew who this was regardless.
"Oh... Hi, Iwa," I said, as I took up the second bag. "What's up?"
"Have you got time to come along to rehearsal today? Namita is sick, so we need somebody to read her lines!" I could just about tell she was smiling. "You don't need to act or anything."
I was silent and still for a moment, hesitating. "Uh, sorry..." I said. "I think I'm getting kind of a migraine, so..."
"Oh," She frowned. "Again?"
"Y-Yeah," I said, rubbing my brow. "Sorry, I haven't been sleeping well for the past couple of weeks."
"Well... Okay," she said, withdrawing a bit. "I mean-- We can work around it."
I nodded stiltedly as I picked up the other bag and closed the locker door, not knowing what to say.
"Sorry," I repeated. "I'll see you tomorrow, then..."
"Hey, you're doing okay, right?" She asked, her tone troubled. "I know you said it's a migraine, but... You've really seemed out of it lately."
"O-Oh, yeah!" I said, holding up a hand reassuringly. "I'm fine... Just having a weird couple of weeks, I guess?"
"Yeah..." She said, nodding. "Well, let me know if you wanna talk about anything. I mean-- I'm here for you, y'know?"
"Yeah," I repeated, nodding. "Thanks."
"Catch you tomorrow, then," she said, stepping away.
"See you..." I said, holding up a hand weakly.
When she was gone, I stared at the ground for a few moments, wondering what I was trying to accomplish.
I got my things together, and left through the double doors. It was one of those days where the weather was in a strange state of uneasy flux, where it could have gone in any direction in the next hour. Dark, heavy clouds hung over parts of the sky, while others were empty, and sunlight as bright as any summer afternoon shone down even as vapor from rain less than an hour ago hung in the air.
I passed by my fellow students in silence and left through the school gates. Oreskios was a city built among the hills, and we were high enough up them that, when I looked towards the horizon, I could see the inward bend of the Mimikos's bowl towering far, far in the distance - the eastern end of the Elysian Pangaea, most predominantly the flat lands of Mekhi, rising up towards the rim, overlaid with blue from the atmosphere.
I stared at this sight for a moment through the dark shade of my veil, before turning and moving towards the tram station.
The platform, which was a little downhill, was full of other kids when I arrived, as it always was. I touched the logic bridge, which informed me the next tram going to my home district would arrive in about six minutes. I waited, watching as half of the students around me boarded the the one which arrived first, then stepping forward myself when the next came along.
Trams in Oreskios are mostly wooden-- The whole modern city is, aiming for a traditional quaintness that almost feels at odds with its size and importance as both a relatively important port and the terminus of a mountain pass. As a result, the interiors are surprisingly homely. They always helped me relax, for some reason. I went from the jumpy state I was in leaving the school to a muted one where I was half in my own head alone, barely paying attention to my surroundings.
My head lulled back against the window. The logic engine for the tram network in those days was always playing this local news-slash-public interest auditory show that was a very numbing combination of dull and inoffensively vacuous. I let the voices wash over me.
It's vandalism - Vandalism and outright thuggery, no matter what generation you're from, a forgettable female voice said. Harassing public workers just trying to do their jobs, pushing them violently, throwing-- Throwing bottles... There's nothing you can say to defend that sort of behavior in a civil society.
I think that's a little reductive, an equally forgettable male voice replied. It's a politically charged issue. The city council should have considered that there'd be a negative response to begin with.
That's ridiculous.
What do you mean?
We're in a climate right now... Or rather, we've arrived in a climate... Where a group of people can essentially riot violently about the erection of a democratically-approved monument, one commemorating deceased members of the citizenry, and have people excuse that behavior on the basis that it's 'politically charged'. I think that's absurd.
I'm not trying to excuse the behavior.
Really. Then what are you doing?
I'm saying that, if an issue becomes as broad as the civil dispute has, you can't look at it from the perspective of individuals breaking the law. The fact that we're celebrating the Young Militia at all shows that disobedience of this nature can affect change in policy and ultimately achieve legitimacy. If we keep rubbing salt in the wounds of the loyalists like this, obviously some with extreme positions are going to start saying: 'Well, turnabout is fair play, isn't it?'
'Rubbing salt in the wound'-- That's a strange way to put the situation. We're talking about something that was already argued down to a tiny monument - not even a statue, just a plaque on a stand - that was meant to serve as a bullet point on the issue to begin with.
Even so, it only celebrates one side. It's obvious people would interpret it as antagonistic.
How could it have celebrated both? Oreskios didn't send any soldiers for the Alliance-- The only people who died were volunteers for the revolutionaries.
You're missing the point. People don't view this matter from a local perspective, but an international one. Maybe no one from Oreskios was killed, but those same volunteers might have been responsible for the death of someone they knew from Ysara or Rhunbard. People view it all very personally at this point.
This is an absurd argument. You're finding excuses for people trying to tear down, against the will of the city, the sole memorial to local people, mostly very young local people, who died fighting for a cause that the Old Yru Convention has admitted was justified at this point, and which our own government supported--
I'm just saying that the most sensible option would have been to just try and move away from the issue, especially since there's still violence ongoing. It would be better for everyone to just put this down and move on.
And what about their families? Their parents? Should they move on, because a minority is upset about being reminded their children existed?
That's an unfair framing, I think...
Eventually, the tram rolled up to my stop, and despite being tuned-out, I was fortunately attentive enough to notice. I pushed by some people hanging off the handrails, I stepped out onto the street. This was Hierarch's Way, a winding commercial road not far from my house where my family did most of its shopping. There was a grocery distribution center, some restaurants, clothing stores, and a few places selling specialized items like artifices and logic engines... Though you had to go downtown to get a proper selection for that kind of stuff.
Mostly, though, it was dominated by fancy bars and cafés, aiming for a wide range of aesthetics. There was a breakfast place that only sold naturally grown food at obscene rates, a bar that was so traditionally Saoic they didn't even have chairs, and a hyper-modern establishment - where everything was metal and even the furniture looked like abstract shapes - which I hadn't actually been able to determine the purpose of. (It was probably also a wine bar, though. Nine out of every ten places in these kind of neighborhoods are wine bars.)
I passed some food stands and took a turn into a side street right after arriving, where it became much quieter, the roads mostly deserted at this time of the afternoon. Large houses broken up by tall walls stood in a long row, gently curving along with the hillside.
I walked towards my house,
...and then I noticed.
I hadn't been able to tell until it was this quiet, but there was another set of footsteps coming from behind me, slowly rising in pace. I turned my head, frightened for a moment, but saw that the figure some distance behind behind me was another girl in my school uniform - short, almost a head or shorter than me.
I relaxed a bit. She's probably just someone you haven't seen before going home who caught the same tram you did.
I kept walking. But the pace of the girl kept increasing, her footsteps coming closer and closer.
Maybe she's just in a hurry, I thought.
...unfortunately, this idea was overturned quickly.
"Hey," she called out.
I stopped, a prickle running along the back of my neck. I turned my head. "Uh?"
"I wanted to ask you something," she said in a muted tone, taking a few more steps.
At this point, something clicked in my brain, and I realized that I knew who this was.
"Is that... You, Ran?" I asked, warily.
She nodded. "That's right."
I knew Ran of Hoa-Trinh from spending time in the math club, of which she was a member. She seemed nice, if a little quiet, and I remembered us hanging out a few times in the past... But we weren't especially close friends, or anything. So her approaching me like this out of nowhere alone was very strange.
...plus, now that I thought about it, I was pretty sure she didn't live in this area. I remembered it coming up that her home was close to the school, and she walked, not needing the tram at all...
I felt a lump in my throat.
"Um," I said. "...have you been following me?"
She was silent for a moment, her expression more or less invisible behind the veil with the angle of the light.
"I wanted to confirm something," she eventually said, not answering me. "What's your favorite type of bird?"
For a moment, I couldn't even process the question. But then, suddenly making the connection of what could be happening, I probed the inner reaches of my mind for an answer. But...
"I... D-Doves," I said, the word coming out stiffly. "Uh, seriously, what's going on?"
She didn't reply, nor seem move at all. She simply stared ahead, the black fabric of her veil wafting back and forth in the wind. At some point, the storm clouds overhead had covered the sun, and droplets of rain had begun to slowly trickle to the earth, making the pavement with little dark blotches, one by one.
The moment dragged on like that for a whole minute. It was so strange that I didn't know what to do.
"W-Well..." I eventually said, my tone stiff enough to be declared legally dead. "I need to get home, so..."
Gesturing weakly to the street ahead of me, I turned away from her and started to walk. I made it ten steps before I suddenly heard her running towards me. My fight-or-flight response kicked in, and I found myself grinding the heels of my black school shoes into the ground in preparation to take off in a sprint, but just as I was starting to move, she lunged for me and managed to grab the side of my skirt.
I froze, stopping dead even with a foot half off the ground. My heart was racing.
"At the culinary arts day last Friday, I saw you looking around," she said, speaking in a monotone that contrasted sharply with her movements and the obvious tension in her body. "At one of the tables, they had hot sanbeiji. That's your favorite food. Every time the club has gone to a resturaunt and they've had it, you've ordered some. But this time, you didn't even look at it. You picked up a slice of pastitsio from one of the tables doing Inotian food instead."
I didn't say anything, my breath growing heavy.
"Before that," she went on, "in art class on Tuesday, they gave us a choice to pick another student's work and critique it. Whenever that happens, you always choose the person who did it for you the last time. But this time, you didn't do that, and just picked Iwa's instead." She paused for moment. "You've been acting strange around people you know in general. If it were just that you were reserved and didn't want to anyone, I'd assume you were just going through something difficult. But you're more dependent at the same time. Not for emotional things. Day to day things."
I opened my mouth to try and speak. "I... I don't know what you're--"
"You look like Utsushikome of Fusai," she said. "Move and talk like she does. Your handwriting is the same, and you know a lot of the things she should, but... Everything else is different. The things you like and don't like. How you respond to shit. The way you work and what you do in your spare time. Everything..."
Slowly, I turned my head towards her. At this distance, I could finally start to make out her face.
The expression on her face went beyond anger. Though her mouth was neutral, in her eyes, I could perceive a cold but ferocious disgust that I'd never witnessed before in my life.
"What the fuck," she said, barely keeping herself calm, "have you done to her?"