Perhaps, Azame thought, taking such a hefty pledge to keep his grades up wasn’t the smartest thing he could do. In fact, he rapidly found that if he put his mind to it, he could flunk every single class he had. He hadn’t known where the time flew until he was looking at more F’s. He could only feel disheartened with himself. The years repeated, regardless if he tried his best. There were some things Azame could never understand no matter how hard he tried. Others would leave him more confused than when he first started.

This time, Azame had tried. He’d even had Ajax’s help with sorting out all his assignments and keeping the more pressing ones in front of him. However, his concentration would stray. Soon, Azame would forget about them and do something else.

Now, he was holding his mid-terms in hand. Back hunched over his desk as the lamp burned long into the night. He’d watched the leaves turn from green to the pretty auburn of fall… and before he knew it, he was too far behind to attempt catching up. Gone was the first quarter, and the second quarter’s end rapidly approaching. Just a few weeks remained on calendar.

Azame bit at his knuckles as he tried to not let the disappointment get to him. For as long as he knew, he’d failed more classes than he’d passed. If he was being technical, he shouldn’t even graduate this year if it wasn’t for the teachers pushing him through, regardless. The boys hated him, and so did the teachers. They held no soft spots for Azame.

His eyes felt wet, and he rubbed them in irritation. He couldn’t help but curse faintly to himself. He couldn’t help that he was different and things didn’t come to him easily. Alas, no one would ever understand, regardless. He glanced at his little clock on the table and sighed.

“It’s no use,” he said, leaning back in his chair.

Startling him from his thoughts was a hand appearing on his windowsill, before someone pulled themselves up into the light. However, that pounding in his chest eased when he saw Ajax’s face from across their room. He landed heavily before stifling a yawn.

“Still up?” Ajax asked as he plopped down onto his bed nearest the wall and worked his shoes off.

Azame watched him for a few moments, letting his mind wander. He watched Ajax reach around his waist and loosen the pouch close to the skin of his back. It flopped to the bed faintly before Ajax pulled it close to himself. He unsheathed the blade, and it glimmered in the low light of Ajax’s lamp, a blade so dangerous and deadly that Azame couldn’t touch it. There weren't many weapons that could fight a shadow. A blade that could kill Shadows, where mortal and human made weapons failed. These mighty weapons, though, weren’t safe in Azame’s hands. The blade wasn’t intelligent, unable to tell friend from foe. That required the Protector’s expertise and a great deal of that, too. Stronger Shadows, the ones who’d developed into Promised Ones… they could take on the face of anyone and hide in plain sight, so perhaps it was better that the blade couldn’t differentiate between friend and foe.

It was terrifying, and while Ajax was unnaturally good at telling Shadows apart from people, there still existed the chance that one would inevitably slip under Ajax’s radar and go for Azame’s throat. They were lucky, of course, that few Promised Ones existed. Protectors made it their mission to hunt Promised Ones down when they reared their ugly heads, but even then… they often met. Promised Ones were stronger than any other Shadows, after all. They’d evolved into a higher being, a creature capable of a solid form even in bright midday sunlight. They could speak and think for themselves, tendrils strong and plentiful.

Every Shadow wanted to become a Promised One. It was an instinct that they held deep inside them. But few often could. They had to eat a lot of Sirens to begin their changing… and even then, sometimes it didn’t work out. They were terrifying, though. Azame had only faced off against one Promised One in his whole life… and his entire family had died.

Most Shadows couldn’t exist in the bright sunlight. It was too harsh on their bodies and they would dissipate. Most steered clear during the day, and only prowled at night. That only made evenings and nights more terrifying.

“Did you find anything?” Azame asked as he glanced up at Ajax.

The boy looked tired again, with deep bags under his eyes. Protectors were notorious for their lack of sleep. He envied them. If Azame didn’t get at least 8 hours of sleep, he was a literal zombie in need of slaying. Azame liked to chalk that up as just one more evolutionary advantage Ajax had over Azame. Azame the useless toad and Ajax, the literal rock that held them in place. He couldn’t help but sigh once more.

“Nothing,” Ajax said with a quick glance. “Not that I expected there to be anything. It’s been quiet for the most part. Not that I think that’s good or anything.”

“It’s probably nothing,” Azame concluded before he crossed his arms over his chest.

He was lucky to have Ajax, and Azame liked to chalk up the reason they hadn’t moved in six whole years precisely because of the Protector. Ajax was careful where most others wouldn’t be. He watched everything, even if it was a picture taken by one of the boys with a hint of Azame’s face anywhere near it. They were safe because of him.

“You sound upset,” Ajax said as he leaned back onto his bed and closed his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Azame answered quickly before he tucked away his grade sheet. “Midterms.”

Ajax finally sat up before putting his hand out. “How bad is it?”

Azame shuffled his own grade sheet around before he grabbed hold of Ajax’s. “Well, thank god we have Grandmother. Or we wouldn’t graduate this year. Albeit, you’ve done a lot better than me.”

Most of Ajax’s grades were lower C’s, and a B compared to Azame. Yet, he was the busiest out of the two, and still could keep up. It set the bar pretty damn high for Azame. It also meant that Azame would have another meeting with that headmaster who probably hated his guts by now. BRAE was unique, a school for all ages. And yet, they didn’t appreciate the very kids who went there and tried their hardest.

Azame wasn’t stupid. He refused to believe it. He was just… hard-wired differently, to see things differently than most. Numbers, words? He didn’t understand that. He liked shop classes more than anything, but there had been no open and now Azame was stuck with sitting down and attempting to pretend to be an outstanding student. After all, their whole lives were pretend.

Azame wasn’t the same boy whose family had been murdered by some monster long out of control. He was just a Southern California boy who came from a wonderful family that had cared for him greatly. Ajax was his ‘adopted’ brother who’d been taken in by Grandmother. They lived lies upon lies in their lives and he was so damn tired of it.

Ajax sucked in a breath. “This is…”

“Not the first time we’ve sucked at literally everything,” Azame finally said. “We would have had a better chance if Grandmother would have placed us in a public school.”

Ajax looked at him. “This is your last year anyway, it’ll be fine. Azame, it’s fine. Anyway, public schools are dangerous.”

“Everything is dangerous, Ajax,” Azame said with a huff.

“It’s a distinct danger, Azame. Public schools have other problems besides Shadows. Do you ever watch the news?”

“No,” Azame said. “I don’t have time for that.”

Ajax snorted from where he’d wandered back towards his bed and cleaned his blade slowly. “Be moody over there. I’m busy.”

“You care for that blade entirely too much,” Azame said in a mood.

Ajax rolled his eyes. “Yeah, it’s not like it’s the center piece of all my power or anything. Yeah, it’s just inconvenient.”

Azame couldn’t help but laugh light heartedly.

Azame would not get upset over his grades. He promised himself that this year he’d take it in stride, and remember that regardless of what that damn sheet said, he was still smart. He’d prepared for the inevitable. It was so easy to get lost in school, and get behind in assignments and tests.

Azame leaned his head back quietly. “It doesn’t matter, anyway.”

“It will,” Ajax said, expecting Azame’s reaction. It wasn’t like he’d lived with Azame since they were nine, after all. “This will not be a forever thing, Azame. It’s going to matter.”

Azame scoffed as he turned his swivel chair back around and bared down on his English assignment, that he was surely to butcher any second. He picked up his mechanical pencil and squeezed it tight in hand.

“It’s not like you’re a tasty morsel, everyone wants to eat,” Azame retorted before he closed his eyes with a sigh. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

He heard Ajax stand from where he’d been sitting and cross the room, quieter than most. He placed a hand on Azame’s shoulder. “It’s ok to be stressed and get upset. You don’t always have to apologize.”

“You guys suffer the same shit as us,” Azame answered.

Ajax patted Azame’s shoulder as he peered over his shoulder. “There’s still time to fix your grades, Azame. You don’t need to get upset about it.”

Azame was quiet as he scratched at his chin awkwardly. “Regardless if I fix my grades and can prove to everyone that, hey I’m not actually an idiot, it won’t matter. Everything is already planned out for us in the end. There’s no control. So, it doesn’t matter.”

“Azame,” Ajax started.

Azame pushed the boy’s hand off his shoulder and whirled his chair around before facing Ajax. “It doesn’t matter because my life doesn’t exist here as a kid attempting to live out their last school days. My life exists somewhere else, where we have to constantly keep running. Stay ahead so that one bad thing doesn’t find me and inevitably, eat me. Not everyone can say that they have to live a life of lies!”

Ajax stepped back. “Azame.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” the boy repeated weakly as he rubbed at his eyes. “It’s whatever. The headmaster will bumble after me, demanding that he speak to me tomorrow, anyway. Just like that, history repeats itself.”

“Azame, it's just one more year in the long line of years we’ve already lived,” Ajax said. “This too, will pass.”

Azame shook his head as he looked away. Growing up, his biggest dreams were to go to school and be like the big kids. Only to find out that he could never truly be one, because every day was a gamble that they had to play. There was no magic button to fast forward through time to see if they made the right decisions or not.

Azame gazed towards the window, where the curtain had been drawn. Effortlessly cutting their light off from the dark, outside world. He wondered, briefly, just how many Shadows truly milled around outside without them ever knowing. They could only fight what they could see, after all. That night, so many years ago had been a reminder of the borrowed time they lived off of. Or at least, he lived off of. Azame tried to not be scared of the dark, but in the darkness only true fear lived.

Eventually, the letters turned into renditions of words Azame could never understand and he called it a night. He turned his lamp off, drug his feet to bed and plopped down to sleep peacefully through the night. Or at least, he hoped. However, nightmares seemed to plague him most days. All in the same tune as the actual events of that night long ago, or sometimes, those nightmares would morph into something he would only see when he saw Shadows. That, and their limitless cruelty. He liked to chalk those nightmares off as past events, something he’d had to live through, and successfully did so. Sometimes, those nightmares felt like omens of a future that had yet to come to pass. Those nightmares were what kept him up at night.