Blue Archive: Do I look like a student to you?

(A/n: By the way does the new cover look good? or the old one better?)

Inside the moving train, the faint hum of the wheels on the tracks filled the quiet cabin. A man sat across from a girl, his gaze locked onto her as if trying to piece together a puzzle. 

The girl had striking sky-blue hair that faded into violet on the inner layers. Long bangs swept over her face, obscuring her left eye almost entirely. A loose braid draped over her left shoulder, and she idly toyed with it, twisting the strands in her slender fingers. Dirt and faint smudges of blood streaked her pale cheeks, but she remained composed, exuding an air of quiet serenity despite her disheveled appearance. 

She lowered her head slightly, letting her messy hair shield most of her face. The dim light of the train reflected faintly off her features, but the man across from her could only make out her soft movements. 

The man sitting across from her could only stare, confusion written across his face. He had no words, no idea what to say. There was something about her presence—calm yet heavy, like the weight of something unspoken lingered in the air between them.

Suddenly, the girl spoke. 

"…I miscalculated." 

Her voice rang out, clear yet gentle, like a soft ripple breaking the still surface of a pond. The man froze, surprised by the suddenness of her words. 

"My choice," she continued, her tone even but carrying a weight of emotion, "and all the circumstances that resulted from it." 

She didn't lift her head, her fingers still twisting the strands of her braid. "Finally, I reached this result, and suddenly, I realized…" She paused, her voice tinged with a faint sadness. "...that you were right." 

The man's brow furrowed, his confusion deepening as he searched for the meaning behind her cryptic words. 

"It may seem a bit shameless to say this at this point," she said, her tone lightening slightly, "but I'm counting on you." 

For the first time, she lifted her head slightly, her messy hair parting just enough for her vivid, glimmering eye to peek through. 

She smiled faintly, a mixture of resignation and trust playing on her lips. 

"Sensei…" 

His chest tightened at the word, though he couldn't quite place why.

"You will surely forget what I said now," she said with an almost playful note, "but it doesn't matter."

She tilted her head slightly, her hair shifting just enough for the man to glimpse a corner of her face—soft, fragile, and hauntingly serene.

"Because even if you can't remember anything, you will definitely make the same choice under the same circumstances."

She paused for a moment, weaving her braid once more, her hands steady.

"So what matters most is not the experience, but the choices—the choices that only you can make."

The train car felt heavier, her words pressing down like the weight of something inevitable.

"You once said something about people who have responsibilities," she murmured, her tone turning thoughtful. "Although I didn't understand it at that time... I understand it now."

Her voice gained a quiet strength as she went on.

"As an adult, you have responsibilities and obligations. And on top of that, you have choices—and the state of mind in which you make those choices."

For a moment, silence filled the space between them. The man's thoughts felt hazy, as though he were caught between a dream and reality. Yet amidst the fog, he thought he heard her laugh softly.

"So, teacher," she whispered, her tone almost tender, "you are the only person I can trust now. If it is you, please lead this distorted end to another result."

Her words were firm, even as her demeanor remained gentle.

"You'll definitely find options that are connected to this," she said, her gaze lifting slightly, though her face remained unreadable beneath her bangs.

"So, teacher, please be sure to..."

The girl's faint smile lingered in the dim light of the train car, a bittersweet expression etched on her delicate features. Her voice trailed off, her words echoing faintly in the man's mind like a melody slipping away into the night. 

The man—or perhaps "Sensei" as she called him—felt a strange unease growing in his chest. He couldn't understand it, but her presence, her words, and that serene smile stirred something deep inside him. 

Suddenly, his vision began to blur. 

The edges of the world around him darkened, as though the shadows of the train were swallowing him whole. His body instinctively moved, his hand reaching out toward her—toward the frail figure seated across from him—but his grasp met only empty air. 

He waved his hand frantically, his fingers curling as if to latch onto something, anything that might anchor him. But all he found was nothingness. 

Just as the darkness threatened to claim him entirely, his eyes caught a fleeting glimpse. 

Her braid. 

The loose braid she had held so delicately moments ago, now resting close to her left chest. It was then he saw it— 

the stain. 

A deep, dark red soaked into the snow-white fabric of her student uniform, stark and unmistakable. 

Blood. 

The sight burned itself into his mind, his heart racing with a sudden jolt of panic. The sheer size and color of the stain left no room for doubt—it was a fatal wound. 

His breath hitched. 

His pupils constricted in shock as he stared at her, frozen in that moment. The girl remained still, her expression calm, almost peaceful, as though she had accepted her fate long before now. 

"Why...?" the unspoken question screamed in his mind. 

Before he could process the horror in front of him, the shadows crept closer, devouring the last slivers of light. His consciousness wavered, the girl's faint smile burning in his memory as everything around him dissolved into black. 

Sensei vision collapsed into a void, his senses fading entirely, leaving him with only the haunting image of her bloodied form and the weight of her final words echoing in the silence. 

---------------------------------------

Sensei stood frozen in place, the early afternoon sun casting long shadows on the pavement around him. He clenched and unclenched his hands, staring at them as if they might hold answers to the questions swirling in his mind. 

"Who is she...?" he muttered under his breath, the image of the girl on the train still vividly imprinted in his memory. Her voice, her cryptic words, and the bloodstain—they wouldn't leave him. 

From her hiding spot behind a parked car, Lina peeked out cautiously, observing the man. She tilted her head slightly, her white hair falling over her shoulder as her yellow eyes narrowed. 

"Uh... what's he doing?" she whispered to herself, watching him stand there, completely dazed, muttering to himself. 

She huffed softly, crouching lower behind the car. "I thought I finally found a normal human being in this crazy city... but nope, turns out it's just a crazy person instead." 

Lina stayed quiet for a moment, still watching him. Something about him felt... different. He didn't have the exaggerated or strange features that most of the people in this world seemed to have. No horns, no animal ears, no halos, no mechanical parts. He just looked plain. 

"...Or maybe too plain," Lina murmured suspiciously, her gaze locked on him. "No one's that normal-looking around here." 

The man, oblivious to her presence, finally lowered his hands and looked around. His face showed no malice or ill intent—just confusion. He turned in a slow circle, taking in the street, the parked cars, the trees swaying in the breeze. 

Then his eyes seemed to focus on something nearby. Lina's heart skipped as she ducked back behind the car, pressing her back against the door. 

"Did he see me?!" she whispered harshly to herself, her fingers gripping the hem of her jacket. 

For a moment, everything was quiet. Lina hesitated, glancing sideways, trying to listen for footsteps or movement. 

But instead of approaching her, the man simply muttered again, his tone low and contemplative. 

"...Where am I?" 

Lina let out a small breath of relief. "He's really lost," she mumbled. "Great. A crazy, lost person." 

She peeked out again, her curiosity starting to get the better of her. There was something... unsettling about him, but not in the usual way. He didn't seem dangerous. Just... out of place, like he didn't belong here. 

Lina frowned, debating whether to approach him or just walk away. 

But before she could decide, the man suddenly started moving, heading in the opposite direction, his steps uncertain and slow. 

Lina's eyes followed him, and despite her better judgment, she found herself stepping out from behind the car and trailing him at a safe distance. 

"Ugh, why am I even bothering with this weirdo?" she muttered to herself. "This better not be a waste of time..." 

Lina crouched behind a vending machine, peeking out at the man as he aimlessly wandered down the street. Her yellow eyes narrowed as she kept track of his every move, her body moving from one hiding spot to another—behind a bush, then a lamppost, and even crouching comically low behind a mailbox. 

Every time he stopped to glance around, she froze in place like a deer caught in headlights. When he resumed walking, she scurried to her next hiding spot, her face determined but her movements overly dramatic, like something out of a spy movie. 

Then, as she crouched behind a parked bike rack, a thought suddenly struck her like lightning.

"Wait... what am I doing?" 

She blinked, her pupils shrinking as the realization hit. "Wait?! Am I... stalking a man?!" 

Her cheeks flushed a deep red, and her yellow eyes spun in circles. She shook her head violently, her white hair swaying side to side as she crouched lower, clutching her head in her hands. 

"No, no, no! I'm not into men! That's not it at all! I'm not a stalker!" she muttered, her voice rising in panic. "I'm not even stalking him—I'm just... following him...?" 

She trailed off, the logic of her excuse sounding flimsy even to her. 

Lina buried her face in her hands, groaning quietly. "Ugh, what am I doing?! I'm wasting my time on some lost weirdo who's probably gonna walk off a cliff or something... I should just go home!" 

Despite her internal protests, Lina couldn't bring herself to stop. There was something... odd about this man. He looked so out of place, so confused, but not like the usual clueless tourists she'd seen around Kivotos. 

Peeking out again, she watched as he paused at a street corner, staring at a traffic light as if it were a foreign artifact. 

Lina sighed, running her fingers through her hair. "I'm not stalking. I'm not stalking," she muttered like a mantra, trying to convince herself. 

(A/n: I'm pretty sure some of you guys here already portrait your self as sensei because i don't plan yet? to give sensei name (¬v¬))