Yurui The Cursed One

The classroom empties all around me as people rush away towards the door so fast you’d think I was the plague itself. They slip out of the room in nervous clusters, trying their best not to stare at me, whispering quietly as they disappear into the corridor.

By tomorrow morning, there'll be at least six different versions of events floating around the school. I have no doubt that in half of them, I’m going to be the bad guy who tried to hit on the popular girls, then went crazy and tried to eat them after getting rejected or something. I suppose that depends on whoever's telling the story.

I wait until the last student leaves before reaching for my bag.

“Wait a second, Yurui, dear.”

A shiver crawls down my spine at the sweetness in her voice.

My hand stops halfway to the strap.

She stands beside her desk, perfectly composed amid the wreckage of her classroom. Dust clings to the hem of her coat. A thin streak of blood marks one sleeve, with several more splashes staining the sides of her coat. Her gaze drifts briefly toward them, but her expression remains unchanged.

Yashiro waits near the windows with her arms folded. She has not spoken a word since Miss Maevis announced that she would be accompanying us. Perhaps she is simply preparing herself for the upcoming car ride. Maevis, Yashiro, and I, trapped inside the same car for an hour or so. Yeah, that sounds painfully awkward. Normally, I myself would need hours to mentally prepare for something this anxiety-inducing. But after everything that has happened over the past two days, though, I am still numb from all the violence, too numb to care about something as small as an awkward car ride.

“We’ll both need a change of clothes before we leave. We can hardly go out in public looking like this. Still, we cannot waste too much time making ourselves presentable. I have arrangements to make with my contacts at the company.”

She looks down at her watch.

“You have twenty minutes, not a second more. If you are not at the car by then, our deal is off.”

I nod.

“That sounds reasonable.”

She seriously stopped me just for that?

I take one step toward the door.

“On that note…”

“Yurui.”

I stop again.

Miss Maevis lifts something from the back of her chair—a black jacket long enough to fall past my hips.

“Put this on. If anyone sees you walking around like that, they’ll call the police, and I already have quite enough trouble to deal with.”

I look down at myself.

What remains of my blouse hangs in strips, revealing way too much skin than I’m comfortable showing. One sleeve is missing altogether, and the front is stiff with drying blood. My skirt has survived slightly better, if only because most of the violence happened above the waist.

I try to play it cool.

“I’ve looked worse.”

Yashiro scoffs.

“I’m sure you did.“

My cheeks flush.

Maevis sighs.

“Just put it on, Yurui. This is not worth arguing over.”

She holds out the jacket.

I hesitate for a second, then take it. The fabric is heavier than it looks, the inside lined with something soft. There is no visible label, but knowing Miss Maevis, I would bet it cost some obscene amount no one in their right mind would pay for some piece of cloth.

“I said I would find you something to wear." She looks oddly satisfied as she says it. “This should cover the worst of it until we arrive.”

I look at the blood on my uniform and my skin, and I really don't want to dirty up the brand new jacket.

“I need to clean myself up first.”

Miss Maevis glances toward me and waves me off.

“Suit yourself. ’' She taps her finger on her watch. “You got eighteen minutes"

Eighteen now. Haven’t even done a thing yet and was already two minutes down. All I can do is try not to show up late like some dumbass after being expressly warned—multiple times not to.

I hold the jacket in front of me as I move towards the door, trying my best to keep it as clean as possible.

I scurry off thru the polished corridor with a quickened pace before anyone or anything else could hold me off further.

The nearest bathroom is nearly empty. Perfect

That is unusual at this hour. Normally, the row of mirrors would be surrounded by girls adjusting their hair and complaining about the most mundane problems imaginable. Now there were only two of them whispering to each other at the far end of the room. They fall silent the moment I enter. Without so much as glancing in my direction, they gather their things and hurry out.

I close the door behind them and approach the sinks.

Brown water circles the drain as I scrub my hands. Blood has dried into the creases of my knuckles and beneath my fingernails. I work soap under each nail until the skin begins to sting, but thin marks of red remain. So I start again.

The row of mirrors does not help, throwing every little flaw in my appearance right back at me. I can scrub as hard as I want, but I’ll still be me underneath it all.

The transformation has receded, but it was not completely gone yet. My face looked normal again, more or less, though the skin around my jaw remains tender where the armor once covered it. Sweat and dried blood have clumped my black hair against my forehead, and bruises darken one side of my throat.

I avert my eyes from the mirror and put on Miss Maevis’s jacket. It is slightly oversized. The sleeves reach beyond my wrists, and the shoulders hang too wide, but once I fasten it, the torn remains of my uniform disappear beneath it. So does most of the blood.

It covers everything just a little too perfectly.

I tighten my grip on the edge of the sink.

Coincidence, I hope.

When I look at my reflection again, I appear to look almost respectable. A few tears remain visible near the bottom of my skirt, but no one will notice unless they stare for too long. And people rarely look too closely when your clothes appear expensive enough not to look too poor, but plain enough not to look too rich at the same time. Blend in to the crowd, that is one of the few things that I’m good at afte,r all.

I pull the zipper all the way up to my throat.

Miss Maevis says Miracle Inc. wants to recruit me. Into its Security Force, no less.

That is not the kind of job someone like me even bothers dreaming about. Security officers are the corporation’s muscle. They guard its property, its people, and all the secrets it cannot afford to let escape into the public. In return, they get complete legal immunity, people in Miracle City treat them like superheroes, and they earn enough that a few months’ pay could set someone from the slums up for life.

Actually getting the job is supposed to be nearly impossible. You need connections inside Miracle Inc. just to be considered, along with the kind of top-of-the-line blessing that rules out almost everyone by default.

Especially people from the slums.

Yet Miss Maevis claims they want me, when just a day ago, Miracle Inc. considered me dangerous enough to kidnap and transfer to a containment facility or some kind of institute, or wherever they were taking me. Then Miss Maevis watched me tear apart half the classroom, and suddenly there was a well-paid position waiting for me in their Security Force. Sureeee. I doubt anyone at the company has come to a sudden realization as to how useful and trustworthy I am. They have either simply realized I might be more useful working for them than locked inside one of their cells or… This is them getting me into one of their cells.

I mean, it isn’t too late. I’m all alone in the bathroom; I could climb through the window. The academy’s rear wall borders a service road, and the fence there is low enough to clear. If I run now, I might reach the slums before Miss Maevis notices.

But then what?

Maevis is right about one thing: running would condemn me to a miserable life. I would spend whatever remained of it hiding from an organization that owns half the country and commands some of the most powerful people in the world. Once Miracle Inc. decides you are a target, there is nowhere you can run that it cannot eventually reach. It's basically akin to a death sentence.

I tighten the jacket around myself.

If I run now, I am practically guaranteeing myself a miserable end, probably sooner rather than later. If I go with her, there is at least a chance, however small it may be, that I could have the kind of life I never dared dream about. Calling it a chance might be generous, but it is still more than running offers me.

I’m not saying I trust a word she says. I’ll stay alert, memorize every turn we take, and keep track of every landmark, road sign, and exit along the way. If she tries taking me anywhere other than Miracle Inc., I want to realize it before we arrive so I’ll be fully prepared for when the shit ultimately goes down. I mean, it's not all doom and gloom, maybe I’ll even manage to have a normal conversation with Yashiro while I’m at it.

I slap my cheeks. Enough of that, Yurui. This is serious. Even the smallest distraction could spell my doom.

My hands are still trembling.

She couldn’t have...

Or could she ? It’s Maevis I’m talking about. I wouldn’t put anything above her.

Shit.

I could feel my palms get a little wet. This looks more and more like a trap by the minute. Fuck I can practically hear the word TRAP screaming inside of my head.

And yet I’ve got no option but to roll with it. I guess that’s what most people would call a checkmate. I call it— welcome to my fucking life.

I let out a slow breath and slap my cheeks a few more times, until the skin begins to sting. Calm down, Yurui. Panicking will only make this worse. All I can do is watch, think, and prepare. If the worst happens, I will not let them take me without a fight. Maybe, if I hurt enough of them quickly enough, I can create an opening and escape. My transformation did not seem to have any clear limit the last time, not until Miss Maevis forced it back, at least, so hurting them should not be the difficult part. Maintaining enough control to escape afterward is going to be the real challenge.

I give myself another look in the mirror and head out toward the corridor.

Fresh air fills my lungs as I step outside. A cool wind brushes across my face, and despite everything, I smile as I turn toward the parking lot. My legs still shake a little, but at least they keep moving. Thick clouds cover the sky, without a trace of sunlight breaking through.

Well, if that is not an ominous sign, I do not know what is.

It doesn’t take long before I spot it.

Miss Maevis’s car waits right outside the academy gates.

It is a plain white sedan with rounded headlights, silver trim, and nothing to distinguish it from the dozens of others just like it scattered all over the Miracle City. It's funny how the car is the only unremarkable thing about her, one would usually expect the exact opposite from someone in her position.

For a moment I almost consider turning back and running away, but Maevis exits the car and opens the right rear door for me.

Yashiro is already inside.

She sits with her face turned toward the window to her left, opposite of me, and her schoolbag resting neatly across her knees. There are only two seats in the rear. Great. Just fucking great. There is barely enough room for us to sit without squeezing against each other. Just what I needed.

“Get in,” Miss Maevis says.

I obey without asking any questions.

The door closes behind me with a soft click that sounds far more final than it should.

This is it. Either the best decision I have ever made or the worst.

I suppose I will find out soon enough.

End of arc 3.

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