M.B.F.S [ANMC & Sayu]
Headmaster's Office, E.S.N.A HQ.
"Is this really acceptable, Headmaster?"
Himoto stood in a plain room, her bare feet flexing against the carpet, as tense as she could be without flying into a blind rage. Before her, nearly identical to the color of the walls, was the back of a brown leather chair; it's back turned. A long hum emitted from the occupant of the chair, long, outstretched, gloved fingers trailing along the seam of the chair. The blonde woman sighed, relaxing a bit, her shoulders dipping with the exhalation. She leaned forward placing her left hand on the desk, using the right to straighten a wrinkle from her sleeve. Her throat worked for a moment, as she searched for the right words.
"I mean, I understand that E.S.N.A is looking for potential! B-but...this is just-"
The chair spun in an instant, the Novice Trainer pulling her hand back, gloved fingers shooting out from huge sleeves and touching the sides of her face. Something about the touch disturbed her, beyond the fact that the hands were attached to no physical thing. For that matter, speaking to the Headmaster often put Himoto Takahashi on-edge. He was a strange, nebulous being; beyond the power of any within the Academy. Not only that, he seemed to enjoy touching his subordinates whenever possible.
Himoto did not flinch from him, as much as she desired to do so, but, instead, stared into the starry recesses of his wide hood. The cosmos stared back at her, a strange, unmapped space that composed the entity before her. A long silence stretched between the two, Himoto's icy blue eyes boring into the flecks of stardust drifting through the Headmaster's face. Unidentifiable constellations shifted as he stared into her, at least that's what she assumed he was doing.
His voice was as plain as any man's; calm and level, without being terribly forceful. Himoto pulled herself away from his grasp, smacking aside the hovering, white gloves with the back of her hand. Straightening the neck of her high-collared jacket, Himoto gave a huff of annoyance, lowering herself to "eye level" with the Headmaster. Annoyance bubbled in her, threatening to make its way through her lips and into the open. The lack of explanation was very much standard practice
"I think the boys have talent."
Her throat tightened.
"Of course I did!"
The Headmaster gave a lighthearted chuckle, retracting his gloves to accent the slight shrug he gave; the fingers spreading open again, in a gesture of admitted guilt. Himoto cringed, almost losing her composure, tightening her grip against the edge of the plain desk. She opened her mouth, but an outstretched index finger hushed her into an immediate silence. The Headmaster stood, towering above her, nothing but a black cloak and white gloves containing his form. With a dramatic flourish, he produced papers from within what Himoto could only assume was a dimensional fold; a glossy white envelope, the Extermination of the Super-Natural Academy's symbol emblazoned on the front, two hands, cupping the whole of the world, beneath lush laurels. Her stomach fell through the floor, as she beheld the envelopes that most certainly contained the details of her newest trainees.
South Street, New Garline
He moved with a fluid grace, snowy mess of hair bobbing and weaving as he dodged around obstacle after obstacle. The apartment was still dark, early rays of the Sun just barely touching down on the cluttered hallway. Tsuradere stepped between them, over the slitted shadows and onto a soft pile of discarded clothing; uncertain whether they happened to belong to himself or Hana, the boy he had been sharing this abode with over the past several months. The two of them had rarely had any troubles, except, of course, when chores happened to fall on Tsura's shoulders; as evidenced by the pile of pungent laundry beneath his feet.
A light step took him beyond the discarded articles of clothing and onto the short carpet. Quietly, Tsura allowed himself a smirk; seeing the outline of his house mate's door ahead in the darkness. He didn't expect Hana to be awake at this hour, so it was the perfect time to get the drop on him. He placed the tips of his fingers on the wall, creeping as quietly as he could manage; until they brushed against the frame of the door. There, they stopped instantly; smile widening as fingers pulled away, feet gliding silently over the loose threads of frayed carpet in this area of the hall.
It was a door he had approached many times, for various nefarious purposes; white and unadorned, pristine and probably locked. Tsuradere contemplated, briefly, going to fetch a coat-hanger he had bent just to infiltrate his friend's room; but, alas, the thought was tiring and predictable. He needed something more grand, more powerful! Though, today would prove only to be a friendly reminder that the biggest day of their lives had just come into being; that they had places to be and new things to see. Tsura could hardly contain himself, shifting back and forth; punching at the air a few times, his breathing subdued. He squared himself against the frame, smirk turning to a legitimate smile as he took a few steps back, preparing to crash Hana's peaceful slumber...with a bang.
Squared against the frame, his hands down at his side, Tsura stared for a moment; imagining that he could peer through the door...that he could move through it. With a deep inhalation, still quiet, the boy lashed his head forward. The door exploded inward, with the impact of his forehead unlocked as it had been. The handle fell to pieces, knob falling away as he followed up his mighty headbutt with a shove kick to the door.