"Mr. Mason."
The first words spoken aloud in a while, everyone stops now to look and see what's happening. Chairs and bags shuffle around. Mason stops mid-movement and freezes solid.
"Are you finding Mr. Britegn's answers to your liking?"
Mr. Gentus asserts. Sam looks up from his paper now too, hearing his name.
Mason's body falls loose, unfrozen.
"Ugh. Not even cool enough to let it slide."
His thoughts mock the honorable teacher.
"Mr. Mason. I'd let it slide if you weren't so obvious."
His words are harmless enough to everyone around, but Mason could tell that he was listening to his thoughts.
"You-?"
Mason tried to exclaim.
"A fake yawn, Mr. Mason? You're Cursed, it's only natural for you to want to peek at another student's sheet, but I expect better cheating from those of you in this world who were given the proclivity towards evil."
These words from their teacher, Mr. Gentus, a well exclaimed Blessed, sting at the student's quite a bit. It was as if to say that they each chose to be Cursed. Mr. Gentus' eyes alight with a malicious yet righteous red-gold. His Blessed side begins to show. A down-looking point on the Cursed to boot. Mason looks around and sees some student's eyes close, wincing at the sharp biting words.
"Proclivity, huh?"
Mason grits his teeth, trying to choke down even worse words he could say to their Teacher.
"It's just factual, Mr. Mason. Even your precious friend falls to it."
Mr. Gentus points to Mason's face. His pom-pom dangling freely and comedically out around Mason's new look- given so lovingly to him by Sam at the beginning of class.
"Wha-?"
Finally, Mason looks into his reflection - quickly drawing his katana an inch to see his tiny markered-up face in the shining metal. Big black glasses are crudely drawn on, with an accidentally big connecting mustache and beard. Several mistaken marks reach out from the thick black bands.
"Sam!"
Mason shouts at his friend, gripping his sword a little tighter as he stands up.
Sam's eyes shine a bright red for a moment, giving his guilt away with a glance. Also worn on Sam's face though is a worried and regretful look, shooting back at Mr. Gentus who grins behind the boys. Sam wanted to tell Mason before, but Mr. Gentus seemed to want to keep him in the dark about it. Probably to mock him in a better public setting, like now.
"I'm sorry, Mason!"
Sam tries to reach for Mason, his voice rich with regret, either in asking for forgiveness or to help him wipe his face clean. But too quick for him- Mason is already across the room. Leaping furiously, Mason is stood on a ledge by the window-side of the room, knees bent in and his face plunged shallowly into the class's fish tank. Impossibly fast, Mr. Gentus being the only one to barely follow, Mason sliced off the top of the tank and is now swiping at his marked-up face with his free hand.
"Bammit, Sbam! (Damn it, Sam!)"
Mason's shouts bubble through the water. Vigorously rinsing his face out, Mason catches a glimpse out of the tank, seeing a chuckling Mr. Gentus.
"Heh."
Mr. Gentus holds his chin and cheek with his hand, his other hand holding the pom-pen holds his hip as he stands satisfied. Hearing and seeing this, Mason pulls his sopping head from the tank and leaps off the ledge.
Pip pip pip pip pip.
Droplets form a neat little circle around him.
"Yeah? You think this is funny!?"
Mason leans down, holding his short-katana at his side, primed for a fight. His better sense, what little Mason wields, wains as his classmates laugh at him and even Sam watches on in curious splendor, his eyes glowing hot red.
"Woah, Mas, no!"
Sam tries to call out to him, working to stand up and block him from attacking their teacher, his weakened knees wobble beneath him.
A hush of oohs and ahhs raise from the class.
Mason's grip on his short-katana tightens, his fingers curl around the black wrappings of the hilt.
Mr. Gentus' eyes squint. Taking him seriously, the teacher's lips curl in a smirk.
"You sure, kid?"
He raises his arm out to his side, held straight out from his torso. He holds a loose hovering hand.
Mason watches closely, quickly scanning his posture, his arm length, even his breaths.
"Oh yeah, I'm ready, Gentus."
Mason smirks, clipping his sheath away from the katana guard, a sharp song of metal rings in his ears.
Sheeeeiiiii
Then, in an instant, the uncovered blade corrodes in a fiery blaze - taking on a molten stone look. The heat released starts to dry up Mason's wet form. Mason has begun pouring his sword full of his Cursed power.
Fweeeeeeroooo
The fire dances around the hilt, not reaching any further than an inch or two. The water around Mason begins to steam, creating loose shafts of foggy cover. The desks and chairs surrounding him begin to inch away, pushed by Mason's show of force and power.
Kgrrr Krgg
Mr. Gentus watches as Mason powers up. Likewise studying the boy.
"Interesting. He's letting his Cursed energy flow into his sword, but it's not even touching his hands. The power is moved directly from his core to the sword. It's in perfect tandem."
Mr. Gentus hums softly in thought.
In another moment, the heat surges and throws a grey steaming wave off of Mason. Mason pivots his foot, ready to lunge.
Continued in PART SIXTEEN…