School Days | A Shadow Slave Fanfic

Their first interaction was unplanned; Nephis had spent her school days so far enjoying the lavish lifestyle that her rich upbringing had afforded her, yet, by some odd play of fate itself, she found herself seated in the same class near a boy she could only describe as…

Pitiful.

The boy's shirt was torn, leaving faint outlines of a tattoo that were only barely hidden from view. His hair was dishevelled and unkempt, and his onyx eyes darted around the room with suspicion as he stared impassively at the torn textbook that he had brought with him. 

'He doesn't have a pen.' Nephis thought to herself. It wasn't her place to intervene, despite her status; finding herself doing charity work for all those who were unable to provide for themselves was simply not something she had on her list of priorities. And yet, unconsciously, she found her hand making its way into her bag as she secured an extra pen from one of its sections.

The hard part was getting his attention. Despite their close proximity to one another, the boy's eyes remained firmly planted on the three exits their classroom had. Two windows and a door, at this point, her teacher's incessant rambling about a subject she was sure she mastered at six years old faded into the background as all her focus lay on the boy next to her.

Extending a hand, Nephis lightly tugged on his shirt as his head snapped to the side. His hands twitched, jaw tightening in anticipation. It was almost like he was preparing himself to get hit. Regardless, Nephis extended her hand towards him, gesturing for him to take the pen. The boy stared at her hand for a few moments before locking his eyes with Nephis once more. 

Tentatively, he took her pen from her and began writing down his name on the top left corner of his book, like he had seen everyone do in his class. Nephis, who was still watching his actions with an unparalleled level of focus, raised a ghost of an eyebrow as she saw him write down his name.

Sunless.

Sunless, or Sunny as he liked to call himself, was a typical run-of-the-mill kid from the outskirts. He wasn't as financially well off as most, at least in his opinion. But at least he had garnered enough money from manual labour and selling himself to whoever needed him to gain a roof over his head. Although the house itself was in extremely rough condition, it was much better than the times he slept on the street.

Although Sunny attempted to protest with every fibre of his being, he was forced to attend an academy from the moment he was financially stable enough to afford a roof over his head. Although it wasn't something that could be maintained, a benevolent teacher had offered a hand to pay for his expenses until he had a job of his own.

Today was his first day at the school, and he was only armed with a tattered notebook he had picked up from the floor as well as clothes he had received using the exact same method. It was surprising how much people left in the trash when they didn't need it. Thankfully, though, they had just been freshly discarded, so Sunny still managed to preserve his smell of sand, dirt, and poverty rather than something more wretched.

There were many scions in his school, rich kids with lives he could never even hope to compare to. A pang of jealousy flashed through his chest as the realisation of his likely fixed social status finally hit him in the chest. Living in the outskirts had taught him the simple truth that nobody could be trusted, and he wasn't going to abandon those principles that had been instilled into him for as long as he knew just because he was in school.

Twiddling the pen between his fingers, Sunny allowed himself to attempt to absorb the words that the teacher had been spewing outward. He knew the curriculum wasn't suited for him; they were likely already in the middle of their school year, giving him virtually no time to catch up, and yet they threw him in anyway. Life was truly cruel to the poor.

Eventually, the lesson ended. Sunny had all but forgotten the pen he had taken from the silver-haired scion who stood next to him; absentmindedly, he shoved it into his pocket as he carried his tattered book in his hands and walked out of the class. By his calculations, he was supposed to be attending a history class next. 

'Hopefully that'll be easier to grasp,' Sunny thought with a roll of his eyes. It probably didn't matter what course it was; the result was going to be the same. However, this time he knew there wasn't any harm in hoping, like there had been so many times in the past. So he allowed himself to raise his expectations for the future, albeit slightly. 

All his hopes for the future were sent flying out of his mind as he was roughly shoved into a wall by a figure who towered over him. He wasn't unfamiliar with being on the lower end of the spectrum in terms of height; in fact, he was quite sure that the boy who stood before him was merely average in height. Yet he appeared like a giant.

Shifting his weight, Sunny tried to gain distance away from the boy who stood before him; however, his exit was barred by a hand. Finally taking a moment to analyse his presence, he was greeted by a boy with brunette hair, ivory skin, and sparkling green eyes. In other words, Sunny was looking at his societal superior.

Everything about him was honed and well designed that it felt robotic. His shirt well pressed with a form that almost screamed the high-priced brand of iron that was used to smoothen it out, everything about him screamed of money. The sensation of being close to someone so rich was oddly alluring; Sunny almost had half the mind to rob him of his clothes to see what it felt like being rich.

"Mongrel, what are you doing tainting a school for those with a future with your presence!?" The boy growled out; Sunny couldn't care less about what the boy before him was speaking of, yet he found himself running through simulations of what the boy's name could be. Yet, he found himself answering almost impulsively.

"Did you get dropped on the head as a child? I got here because it's compulsory I must come; why don't you ask your parents? Maybe they'll apologise for raising you to be such a dimwit."

Sunny's voice came out too casually to match the gravity of the words he was saying. Looking around him, he sensed that the entire hallway had come to a stop, eagerly waiting to see what would happen next. There was no way to escape from it; if Sunny fought, he would risk repercussion from those with power he couldn't comprehend.

And even worse, his damned defect had him run his mouth against someone who compared to him seemed like a god. Yet, Sunny's spiteful rage at the unfairness of the class differences fuelled the hateful glare he had levelled at the boy before him.

It only took moments for him to be surrounded by three other boys whose names and faces never caught the attention of his keen senses. Although he did hear one of them exclaim, "How dare you speak to Caster like that!" And in a moment it all went downhill from there.

A fist drove itself into his stomach, knocking the wind out of him as he slid down the wall. Soon enough, four different people were kicking at his face, ribs, and torso like he was a plaything. There was no room to fight back, and there wasn't a will to either. His rage had been snuffed out by the memory of his home, which could be taken from him at any moment by the type of man who stood before him.

Instead, he took solace in the fact that he had finally discovered his tormentor's name. Caster. He would surely remember to avoid that individual as he continued his days within the academy. It took twenty minutes for their beat down to stop, sharp pains that sent electricity through his body had long since turned into merely dull pains from a life of suffering through poverty. 

Waiting for them to leave, Sunny wiped off the blood that was cascading from his bruised nose before snapping it back into place. He did the same for his now dislocated shoulder and slid up from the floor, spitting out a wad of blood before dusting himself off. The hallway had quickly dispersed upon Caster's exit. After all, the interaction went as they planned.

Turning around, Sunny's mind quickly drifted back to his history class as he fiddled around in his pockets before sighing at the fact he still possessed a pen. His pace quickened as he soon arrived at the door of the class. After offering up a brief apology to his teacher, he bolted to the only open seat available.

Next to a girl with silver hair.