Payback is Messy Business (Leiken) [Blood]

[Vincent Meian]

Warning: This chapter contains blood and sensitive topics. Reader discretion is advised.


Vincent Meian's school office was sparse and small. The room's walls were still white, and the only furniture to be accounted for were two rickety wooden chairs, an old wooden desk to match, and a cheap black bookcase that reached to the ceiling. All in all, the whole thing was rather spartan and didn't seem to have much personality at first glance.


On the bookcase were a number of tomes; many were studies on theology and philosophy, though there were a number of books on quantum mechanics and Einsteinian physics as well. A paltry assortment of medical texts and fictional stories intermingled with the assorted "holy books" and military studies. There was even a copy of some tabletop game's rulebook - in Japanese, of course. The case was filled with books, all neatly filed in some way that would be difficult to figure out without knowing the owner in question.


The only thing that made the room even somewhat unique was the sword resting on the wall. It was a traditional katana, though slightly longer in both hilt and blade, and its black lacquered sheath gleamed even in the usual low light of the room. A silver etching of a dragon wrapped around it, each scale drawn to appear like silver fire as it did so. It was a prize possession; something the trainer treasured deeply.


The door was locked this late, of course, being that everyone aside from security had gone home (even the teacher in question) and would not return for at least another couple hours. However, the latch on the window was broken and had been since he'd arrived at the school months ago. It stayed shut, but could not lock. Most people didn't know that, so he left it be.


Little did anyone realize that this office was about to become a gruesome scene of horror in mere moments.

[Leiken Chu]

It had taken some thought, but the beginnings of his revenge and trails upon his trainer were about to begin. If this didn't work to show him just how mortifying his little prank had been he would have to result in much more devious methods.

Leiken had planned, prepared, quite well. Mixing a thick, blood-like, mixture in similar fashion to that which had been thrown upon him in his first training session with the man who was to become his victim in a way. The smell, the texture, the appearance all said it was blood. However, Leiken now knew much better than that.

It had taken some patience to sneak his way out of the dorms and to the office of the very trainer he intended to make suffer. Though he had canvased the area several times earlier in the day to insure he had the quickest possible route for invasion without discovery. During his examination of the area, inside the building and out, he noticed that the latch upon the window seemed to be his key. Broken as it was it would give all the access that Leiken needed without forcing his way in and ruining the effect of the scene.

Approaching the window, bucket in hand, Leiken would set that bucket down briefly. The rope that was tied around the handle was now wrapped around his hand while he pushed open that entry-point. Hoisting himself into the room with a small bit of struggling, fumbling into the floor on the other side, a small thud echoing out. After a moment of quiet to make sure no one had heard he shifted back to the window. Carefully pulling the bucket up with the rope he held in one hand.

Once the bucket was retrieved he looked around the office. Holding it within his hands, "tch... you're a stereotype after all." Leiken was far more amused than he should have been. Setting the bucket down on the desk he untied the rope from the bucket. Tying it tightly around one of his wrists. Knotting it to make it seem as though he had been bound but broken free.

Originally he had planned to use a pen or something sharp like a letter opener, but opportunity presented itself in the form of a katana that was so brilliantly displayed upon one of the pale walls. It was at the sight of this that he moved to the display itself. Carefully lifting the weapon from the shelf. Running his fingertips along the sheath. Tracing along the patterns within the hilt. Somewhat admiring it's beauty. It was a shame such a thing would be tainted by the hand of his prank, but it was necessary.

The small click of the sheath releasing echoed through the room. Sliding away from the blade with a soft metallic ring. It sang so beautifully in doing so and Leiken enjoyed the sound fondly. however, now was not the time for simple pleasures. It was a time for revenge.

Turning to that bucket, he dropped the sheath to the floor, bringing the blade to the fabric of his shirt. Drawing the blade across the fabric, slicing it open, smirking somewhat as he did so. As he drew the blade upon his pants, slicing the fabric there as well, attempting to get a mild perversion within the cuts in the fabric to make it seem as though there were motive for the murder of the young student.

Sure, his clothing was being ruined, but it was for a greater cause. He kept this in mind as he moved to the bucket of false-blood he'd mixed up. Stirring it with the blade of the katana before slinging it toward one of the chairs and the nearby wall. Splatter going over the floor and the pale surface of the wall quite beautifully. Though the sight of such a thing made his own heart pound. he knew it was fake yet it still made him nervous to a point.

He slung more blood in directions that would make it seem nearly accurate to the crime or at least he tried to do so. At that point he let blood-stained and drenched katana fall to the floor. He slid his hands into the bucket, smothering them with the material within, grasping then at his own shirt and chest. Smearing the fake blood over his own skin and over his own hips . He splattered blood upon his flesh and in his hair and then began to grasp at items within the room.

First the desk, knocking the bucket over and laying upon it directly, so that it seemed as though that was were the initial crime had begun. He moved then, sliding to the floor, crawling to the chair which he would pull over into the floor. his legs and hands dragging over the surfaces of the floor and then to the wall where he would press his front-side first. His hands reaching up as if he were trying to escape and had been corned. Smearing his hand's markings down the wall before turning. Pressing his back to it to leave the appropriate markings.

By the time he'd finished his 'rampage' with the fake blood there was not much within the room that had not received some sort of mark of crimson. He was satisfied and quickly he tossed the bucket out of the window before letting it slide closed. He returned to his position upon the floor, his back against the wall, he sank into himself as much as he could. Acting the most 'lifeless' he could manage. The material-coated strands of his hair clinging to his face as his tainted lips lulled half-parted.

He would practice slowing his breaths, keeping them shallow, so that he could hold his breath when the man would focus on him. He wanted it to seem as real as possible. Whether the man thought he committed suicide or thought he was murdered but feared being blamed was left to be seen. Either way he felt it would be a satisfying victory. he nearly felt like grinning ear-to-ear within his anticipation. However, for now all he had left to do was to wait.

[Vincent Meian]

Hours passed, and it was well before the break of dawn when Vincent returned to the school. He hadn't slept well that night, and drowsiness ate at his concentration as he followed the now-familiar path leading from his new home to the gifted school. The air was sharp and chill, causing his breaths to fog even through the white scarf wrapped about his neck and face. He'd even started wearing his winter jackets. This one was his old winter uniform from his days in the service; an olive green coat with his name stitched in English and Japanese on the left and his rank patches on the same sleeve. He tore off any markers identifying his country of allegiance a long time ago, but still kept them at home for sentiment. Even still, it was a rare display of color for the normally stoic man - a choice made out of necessity rather than taste.


He passed by the security with a quiet greeting, as he had for these past months, and made his way first to the staff lounge. Someone had already made a fresh pot of coffee and he partook in the warm beverage, savoring the bitter liquid as it sent a shiver of caffeinated rush through him. He drank his cup with no haste, then washed the dish with soap and water before placing on the drying rack beside the sink. This was all normal routine, and he had no cause to suspect anything amiss.


The caffeine worked its way slowly into his system as he retrieved a scone from his lunch bag. He'd readied breakfast for everyone else, but had some additional paperwork to finish before classes so had skipped out himself. The pastry had been mostly devoured by the time he'd reached his office and fished out his keys from the depths of his ten-too-many pockets coat. Sticking the key in the door, he held the rest of the scone in his mouth so that he could lift the door the slight increment it needed to unlock smoothly. Door successfully unlocked, the keys returned to the endless pocket and he opened the door.


Had he not been paying attention, he might have stepped into the room without taking everything in first. That would have been a mistake, however, and something triggered a sudden wariness in the former soldier that had him on guard. He left the door ajar and peered at the wall without turning on the light.


His katana was off its stand. Missing.


Vincent's eyes narrowed as he wondered about the possibility of such a thing. While the window latch had been broken, his office was difficult to get to on the best of days. The frost would have made the going difficult. But his door had been locked and did not seem to have been tampered with in the middle of the night. Quieting his breathing, the trainer listened closely for any sign that someone was still there; breathing, the shifting of fabric, a creak of a hand on a weapon. He heard nothing, and nothing else appeared out of the ordinary.


Slowly, and with great care, Vincent opened the door and switched on the light, revealing the ghastly interior.


Vibrant crimson doused the room, pooling on the desk and floor surrounding it in thick puddles. The student chair before them had likewise been smeared in the substance, and hand- and footprints milled about the room as if in frantic motion. There was splatter on the walls, the drops having already run towards the floor in streaks, and Vincent's eyes followed the trail as it lead beyond his field of view to behind the door, briefly settling on the formerly missing and now naked blade cast haphazardly on the floor. It's sheath lay nearby, also discarded, and he entered the room cautiously to look behind the door.


As it shut, he saw the boy. Leiken Do Chu lay slumped against the wall, his clothing sheared and bloody as body prints marked the crawl up the wall and the subsequent reversal to the floor. He did not move, and did not even appear to breathe as the soldier closed the door once more.


And then, he was still.

[Leiken Chu]

It felt like an eternity, that wait, but his patience was strong. Or perhaps it as merely a strong stubborn will. Leiken would have waited even longer, despite nearly dozing off several times in the process, it was very early after all. Though it was nothing new to him to skip out on hours of sleep when something more entertaining presented itself.

Sitting, waiting, and wondering how the man would react was almost a chore. Though his stubborn ways kept him there. He wondered what the man was doing up until that point, how long it took him to get there, where he had to come from in order to get there. Trying to determine when he could possibly arrive. He had begun to slip into a light sleep at that point. That is, until the door's lock began to rattle and it startled him out of that near-sleep state.

He took in a last, deep breath, before he would slow his breaths. Making them very long and shallow, so that he could hold his breath when the man looked upon him, to appear as lifeless as possible. A lot of people made the mistake of closing their eyes when they 'played dead', but not Leiken. Instead his eyes were opened, lazy, heavily lidded as they were supposed to be.

Besides, it was the best way, so that he could properly see the man's reaction to the sight laid out before him. His arms were limp, one on his lap, the other on the floor beside him, both stained with the false blood. His legs were outward though one was slightly raised. As if he'd been struggling to sit up further when life left his being.

He took note of that unusual attire, what he could see of it without moving his eyes that is, as well as the man's reactions. He wondered how the man was going to react, if he fell for it, or if he knew right away it was a trick.

The man was awkwardly quiet and Leiken could not judge whether it was from shock, fear, or because he had failed entirely at pulling his prank. However, he waited, he would not move until he was sure.

[Vincent Meian]

Aside from all the gore, something was wrong here.


Vincent had chosen to become still so that he could try and understand what that was. For a long few moments, he could not place what that may be. This seemed to be as they were, but he knew it could not be the case. He needed to figure this out piece by piece, as the whole masked something he could not immediately see. Then, systematically, he began recounting his sensory data.


First, the sight. It was the thing that screamed loudest to his senses; crimson red splashed all over the walls, the desk, the chair, the carpet. Both splatters and pools, smears and prints - there was all the signs of a bloody and violent struggle here. To look closely, though, the splatters were wrong; their arcs were full and uninterrupted, rather than starting mid-swing. The color was wrong, too - many of the stains had started to dry, but rather than becoming flaked and brown they remained vibrant red and solid, like paint smeared on glass. Speaking of glass, the soldier glanced over his shoulder to the window, seeing tell-tale marks of red on the frame from where it had been closed. These were still not the signs that nagged at him, so he continued the catalog.


Second came hearing. Almost nothing to be heard in here, aside from his own heartbeat and breathing. He hadn't really expected there to be; it was easy enough for someone to slow their breathing into imperceptibility. There were no creaks or twitches from the "corpse", and no audible breathing. This was also something to be filed away and left alone; it wasn't what bothered him either.


Next came touch. The air in here was very cold, as if all the heat had fled the room and was yet to return. Considering that the office's thermostat was still in position, that meant the window had to have been opened. Not only that, left open for some time. Glancing to the wall, Vincent pressed his fingers to the dried blood and drew them across the streaks carefully. They were still tacky in the deeper smears (a nice touch), but the thinnest streaks remained as smooth as they looked. No flakes. Still, there was something else not quite right, something else that gave proof of deception...


Finally, the trainer settled on it; the smell. There was a faint odor of copper in the air, as well as the subtle smells of wood, polish, and old paper. Aside from the addition of that metallic scent, all the subtle notes were there. For this to be a crime scene, there was something very key missing.


Mistakes found, Vincent made a slightly agitated noise and moved to his desk. Though much of it had been smeared in blood, he now noticed irregular pooling as well. Sloppy. Placing his lunch on one clean corner of the wooden surface, he shrugged out of his warm jacket and wrapped it around the back of the cleaner chair. The scarf came next, depositing into a drawer before vanishing from sight entirely. He stretched, taking his time before giving the room another look-over.


"Such a mess," he sighed. The tall man walked over to the fallen weapon, careful not to step in the "blood" and picked it up carefully. The red smears marred the blade's perfection, though thankfully none had bound into the cording on the hilt. Small wonder there, he supposed, though anger fumed beneath the surface at the idea of the blade he cherished being used in such a game. Vincent placed the sword on the desk, careful not to place it into more blood, then did the same with the lacquered sheath. No sense in leaving them on the floor.


The boy he ignored entirely, even to the point of returning to his chair to go about his business. As if to spite the gore, he seemed entirely nonplussed, acting as if the room simply hadn't been cleaned properly the night before. He even went about cleaning his weapon as if it simply needed a sharpen and polish.


In short, he had no reaction whatsoever.

[Leiken Chu]

Silence.

It was all that remained from Leiken in that current state. He waited, observing what he could see of the man's reactions, though something was far from right. Far from the way that he had imagined it would turn out. In his mind it was perfect, the man would have entered the room, flipped out. Yet the man before him seemed to have little to no reaction at all over the gore that covered his office.

Did the man care so little about his own students? Was he that poor of character? Perhaps Leiken had been right in identifying the man as just like the others. At least in his mind. He continued to wait, holding his breath whenever he was looked toward, though exhaling a long shallow breath when the man turned to the desk.

It was at this point that Leiken came to the realization that the man had seen through his little plan. Though he did not move for several minutes, nor make a sound, he remained still over ten minutes. Considering the possibilities. Where could he have gone wrong? Then it dawned on him, the memory of closing the window, his hands having been smeared with blood while doing so. It was ruined !

Though that was not the only factor that had tipped the man off it was the only one that Lei himself could identify. Leiken exhaled heavier at that point, taking in a long full of air just before he did so, shifting to sit up from his slumped position on the wall. "tch. You're a bore. Do you really care so little about the life of your own students?" He questioned as he pushed himself up from the floor.

There was no point in wasting any further time 'playing dead' his plan had been foiled much to his disappointment. He moved toward the man's desk, his sliced open shirt swaying in the wind about him as he did so, approaching that very desk with a look of irritation written upon his features. "Tch! Not even a single sign of regret. What a waste of effort." he stated as he sat down on the edge of the man's desk. Tugging up his pants, which held loosely on his body due to being cut with that blade s well, "You're a bigger monster than I am." he accused.

[Vincent Meian]

By the time Lei had relieved himself of his part in the charade, Vincent had finished cleaning the fake blood from the sword and sheath. He'd just began polishing the former when the boy exhaled in a loud sigh and sat up, looking for all the world like some sort of American-style zombie beginning his return to life. At the accusation, the trainer merely shrugged, not distracting himself from his chore. "I will endeavor to entertain you further in the future," he replied, almost as an afterthought. "But you were clearly in no real peril, so I saw no reason to pretend it was so."


If Lei had honestly been hurt in his office, the former soldier would have wasted no time in attending to him and applying first aid. Then, once the boy was safe and being treated by professionals such as his wife, he would have hunted down the person responsible and slain them himself. If the police didn't get there first and protect the foolish individual from people like him, that is.


However, such was not the case as the boy was perfectly fine. Additionally, despite what many may say of him, Vincent Meian was no fool. Hot-headed, prideful, and distant perhaps; but never a fool.


He glanced up briefly as the student settled onto the edge of his desk, then returned to his task, running the nuguigami (cleaning cloth) over the surface of the blade. Thankfully, it had not been left long enough for the sugary substance to rust the blade, however it would require a polish with a fine-grit powder to be fully safe from the corrosion again. "If you were attempting to frighten me, it was," he answered softly. "But why should I regret that you are not dead?"


Vincent paused a moment, running the cloth over the blade almost thoughtfully now. "Bakemono, ne?" he murmured, his voice a whisper of thought. "Soo kara..." It was not the first time he had been called such, and he doubted it would be the last. Was he really so cold that he had become a monster? Did he not care enough anymore?


No, he cared. He cared enough that after the apprehension he'd felt a modicum of fear for the boy's life. However, he had known that something was wrong and simply not reacted. Was that monstrous? Or was that just who he was as a soldier?


"Neither of us are monsters," he added after a moment, returning to the polishing of his weapon. He'd stopped without realizing it and so began to move the cloth over the blade once more. "We are human beings, shackled to pride and fear by experience. This does not make us monsters."

[Leiken Chu]

"Is that why you ceased movement like a frightened little mouse when met with face of a cat?" he questioned in a taunting tone. Though he was still quite disappointed in himself for leaving any evidence that would show that his plan was a fake. He had hoped it would work, that he would get that revenge he desired, so the man would understand how he'd felt. So he would give up.

He leaned to one hand as he sat upon that desk. Watching the man clean the blade he'd tainted with the false blood. it was a shame he'd done so, but it would have been worth it had the plan gone the way he wanted. At least to him it was not, "I was attempting to return a favor. " Of course he meant that very act that had brought him such mortification before.

"You shold have regretted the loss of a student. That's the way it was supposed to be, but you ruined it by being too observant." he stated with an irritation still within that soft-toned voice. He noticed the man's polishing stopped with is statement of the man being a monster. It made him smirk a little, though at the same time it made him feel regret for saying it, but he did not let it show.

"tch. " he huffed aloud. His gaze staring at the sword within the man's hand for a moment. Though he shook his head to rid himself of that dazed stare. "You sound so sure of that, but what do you really know about me?" he stated as he flicked a piece of the dried material on the desk at the man before shifting his position on the desk. Raising his hand to attempt to take grasp of that blade as he spoke, "you're not even upset about the mess i made of your office. What is with you? " he questioned. He would have shouted it at the man in frustration, but that would have broken his calm appearance.

He couldn't have that.

[Vincent Meian]

"Taking a moment to review a situation is not fear," he retorted calmly. "Rushing would have been an act of panic. I maintained calm and made sure I did not miss a critical detail." The taunts didn't really bother him much now; the boy was acting in such a way to make him leave; to force the trainer to leave him alone and refuse to train him. But Lei's powers were dangerous as they were - if he were to leave them as they were, in that meager semblance of control, the boy could do serious harm to himself or others without intent.


The desecrating of the blade made him furious. There were certain things a person didn't do, especially to an ancestral weapon. He had earned this blade from his childless Master as a student and had taken great care of it ever since. It was a treasure; a memento of a bygone age of honor and respect. But he could not take out his failings on the boy; he would simply have to teach him to respect the property of others at a later point.


Vincent let out a huff of annoyance. "Had you been injured or worse, I certainly would have regretted any fault I may have had," he countered. "Since there was no such concern, there is no need for regret." Honestly, children could be so black-and-white; regret and death were not tools to be used for petty revenge. What naivete.


The cloth settled back into the drawer, and Vincent drew out the polish powder, batting the ball against the blade to leave the white powder against the reflective surface. That finished, he returned the applicator to its place and removed another cloth, starting on giving the katana a proper shine. He ignored the speck of fake blood being flicked at him, moving only enough to make sure the blade would not be dirtied again before returning to his task. The soldier caught notice of the movement of his hand towards the blade, however, and his cool demeanor broke for just a moment. He dropped the cloth on the desk and grabbed Lei's hand by the wrist, twisting the boy into an armlock as he stood from the chair, golden eyes blazing as his face remained stoic.


"I know that you are afraid of your powers," he answered, almost casual and certainly accusatory. "I know that you fear that you will drown in all the blood you have spilled, both accidentally and by design. You place the title 'monster' on me because you see it in yourself. You are afraid that the outside will see you as a demon, and you drive everyone away to hide that. I know this, and you hate me for it. You attempt to humiliate me as I did you, because you think that it will change something. You are wrong."


Releasing the hold, the soldier added an extra shove to remove the child from his desk. "Get ready for class," he ordered. "I expect you to return this afternoon to clean this mess up. Or perhaps you would appreciate a visit from campus security so that you can regale them with the tale of how you broke into a teacher's office after hours and turned it into a horror movie scene for petty revenge."

[Leiken Chu]

"Tch. Killjoy." he stated plainly. Giving a mild sound of irritation despite himself. He sighed heavily then, rolling his eyes to the man's words, "It would have been perfect if not for one flaw. Most people would never have thought to analyze the scene in that situation. " his hand would scratch lightly at the bare surface of his chest where his sliced shirt hung open.

The way the other man huffed out was amusing to him,"Good." He stated plainly. "This time, but next time I'll make sure to execute my revenge perfectly. Then you'll see why you should just give up now soldier boy." he taunted due to the trainer's current attire.

Leiken took in a sharp breath as the other man caught him in his movements. Leiken flinched with the discomfort he felt with his arm locked by the other man. he leaned over the desk somewhat to ease the discomfort. Clenching his teeth as he struggled to keep his abilities from reacting in a natural defense to the situation. He could feel his own pulse speeding up and the blood rushing to his head. His other hand held to the edge of the desk. Both to support himself as well as to ease some of the tension. In efforts to distract himself he gave a small, strained, laugh to the other man."Oh, i see i see ~ Touchy over that weapon are we? I'll have to remember that." he cooed to the other man.

As the other man began to speak to him again with much more frustrating words he felt himself losing what little control he had over himself. "I am not afraid!" he declared in a sharp tone. Something that he did not do often. His teeth clenching somewhat, "I am merely aware of what they are capable of, but you haven't witnessed that aspect and be glad that you haven't." he spoke sharply to the other man. Though as the man continued he flinched, his fingers curling in familiar urge to strike violence upon the man to silence him, however he could not do such things within that hold and he did fear trying to use his abilities against the trainer. What if he did and accidentally injured him? It was true. he was deathly afraid of his own abilities. "you know nothing. " he stated more calmly. Though the look within his eyes contradicted the words he'd spoken. Showing that each of the words the man spoke struck deeply into Leiken's being. "I am not wrong" he stated suddenly and sharply.

"It would change it for me."

He let out a heavy breath as he was released from the hold. The extra shove making him grunt, the other man's hands upon him had both angered him, and inspired him. he smirked slightly to the other man as he managed balance upon his feet. His hand raised, brushing through his hair as he stood there, "I wouldn't do that If I were you. " Leiken stated as he looked to the other man from where he stood. Though he slid his moved his hands to pull his slipping pants up once again. "I'll come back to clean it up only because you repaid ruining my clothes. That is the only reason. Nothing more, so don't take it as a sign that we're even, or that i accept your authority. " He stated firmly to the other man.

"Words of what is petty coming from a man who throws a fit over a sword. Tch." he stated before turning his back to the other man. "You don't seem like a trainer, you seem more like..." he thought a moment before continuing "A puppy, yes." he stated to himself before moving toward the door with a wave of his hand. "I will be back in a few hours, Vinny~" he taunted.

[Vincent Meian]

"No, your pride was your one flaw," Vincent countered. "You failed to remember one critical detail for a corpse; living beings befoul themselves moments after death. I suggest you avoid faking deaths unless you are willing to play the role accurately." Despite Lei's apparent desire to humiliate the trainer, he would only end up embarrassing himself again if he continued trying to play dead.


He ignored the threat and the jibe about his uniform. The clothes were warm, comfortable, and familiar, and he had pride in his services to his native country. Why would he feel shame or anger about being one?


"You may deny your fear, but that does not mean it does not exist," Vincent retorted sharply. "I lived past twice your years and seen things that would make your blood freeze. I have even done things with my powers that would horrify any sane person. I would suggest that you remember that in days to come."


"The only thing my leaving would change for you would be to leave you more bitter and afraid. You would not master your abilities. You would not grow braver. At best, you would no longer care and then would you truly be a monster."


With his release, Lei tried more of his threats, suggesting with his tone once again that Vincent would regret his actions. The teacher once again ignored such implications and returned to polishing the weapon in his hand, returning to his seat and maintaining eye contact with his student. He was not going to be surprised again. "Good, then I will expect you immediately after classes end."


A fit? Really now. "This weapon is special to me, yes," he added. "But only an idiot reaches for the blade of a functional sword. I suggest you think before you act next time." The implication of being not only a child but a dog annoyed him as well, but he knew how Lei thought now; insults were a defense, and to acknowledge them would only make matters worse. So, with a wave of his hand, he dismissed the boy and continued to polish the blade, the edge already starting to reflect brightly in the artificial light.

[Leiken Chu]

"Tch. That is to assume that they were already without life, but you did not even check that matter did you?" he stated to the other man. Though making a slight disgusted expression at the idea of expelling his bowels on himself for the purpose of his revenge. Playing dead would obviously not work on this man, he would have to go to other measures, perhaps even more extreme ones.

"Oh? I find that hard to believe, but if it is true. I wonder only then what has happened to your spine." he mocked the other man. "And why is that? Am i supposed to be impressed? If so then i am afraid you'll only meet with disappointment. You should give up now while you still have that pride, pet." he suggested.

Though the words the other man would speak following that would sting within him far more than he expected, "Perhaps, but what if that is what destiny intends for me to be? What if a man cannot change fate and fate has set in stone that very fact?" He chuckled slightly. Giving the man a grin, "The only way to find out is if you give up and leave. So, do you want to find out? " he suggested. Though he already knew the answer. He had not given the man a reason to leave yet, but he planned on it.

A fit it may have not been, but to Leiken it had been as good as one. Even that small bit of reaction satisfied him, "Only an idiot brings one into a school." He countered.

With that he continued to the doorway where he would exit. Taking care in making sure that he was not seen on his way back to his dorm where he would clean up and change before heading off to attend class.


<<<------------Discussed Time Skip-------------->>>

Classes had ended for the day. The tasks of a typical day over with, but now Lei had other duties to attend to. He was not one to go back on his word and that is why he never gave it often. So as agreed he returned to Vincent's office shortly after classes had ended. Making only a small detour to get a bucket of water and cleaning supplies. Those supplies being a scrub brush, wash cloth, and furniture polish. The sound of the water sloshing within the bucket echoed within the building as he approached the other man's office once more. Setting the bucket down as he pulled loose the collar of his button-up shirt. The buttons there coming undone as he did so, but it was intentional.

His other held firmly on that bag of supplies while his other knocked firmly upon the door. "Housekeeping~" he chimed sarcastically before picking the bucket of water back up. Waiting for the man to let him back into the office.

[Vincent Meian]

The day had been a relatively long one, mostly because Vincent had the morning on his mind and needed to work on his paperwork in the staff lounge to keep it from being smeared with fake blood. Working in such a public area had many drawbacks, including distractions from teachers and students alike with questions or small talk. It'd been all he could do to finish that day's work and move on to tomorrow before the last bell rang. He'd even had to uproot himself to go the library during the lunch hour just to get some quiet.


However, as the last bell of the day rang, the tall man looked up from his work and stood, muscles aching from sitting so long. He tucked the files neatly under his arm and walked the short distance from the lounge to his office without any hurry, exchanging polite greetings with various other staff and a few students along the way. When he arrived, he unlocked the door and straightened up the room a bit, making sure that the paint tarp he'd put over his bookcase was still fastened in place before putting the files away in his desk. He'd bring them to Administration after this little bit of work.


The room, of course, still looked like a high-school murder scene; everything had dried, and quite frankly Vincent's opinion was that Leiken would not be able to clean it up to his satisfaction. Granted, the dark red stains in the carpet were not really something he worried about, and he could always ask the janitors or Ari if they had any left-over primer for the walls. The desk and chairs needed to be replaced anyway... but it wasn't about the things in the room. What mattered was disciplining the crime appropriately.


So, Lei would stay here and clean until Vincent told him it was time to go home.


The knock on the door with the subsequent sarcastic sing-song alerted the soldier to his student's presence. Unlike Dr. Neville, he wasn't a telepath; he just knew his student by now. He called out for the boy to come in, then stood over by the window, resting his long and lean body in the frame. Despite the fact that it would be one of the easiest things for Lei to clean, he didn't want to get rid of his key point of evidence just yet. Nor would Lei know that the groundskeepers had found (and confiscated) his bucket and rope that he'd transported the fake blood in. It would be a surprise much later.

[Leiken Chu]

Leiken exhaled harshly as he opened the door, the bag of cleaning supplies dangling on his wrist to do so, he slipped into the room. Looking around the hallway as if he were making sure not to be followed before slipping into the office with the other man. "I missed you too ~" he cooed to the man who had not even made effort to go open the door for him. he pushed the door closed behind him with the heel of his foot.

He set the bucket of water down on the floor in front of trainer's desk. The bag of cleaning supplies set next to it. "how was your day~" he cooed to the other man in a mocking fashion. As if he had actually cared how the man's day had gone. His fingers worked to unfasten the cuff-buttons of his shirt. "Don't get used to this crap." he stated more seriously then.

Leiken sighed heavily before unfastening the buttons of his shirt, shrugging off the fabric and setting it aside on the cleaner of the chairs. He moved to the bag of cleaning supplies then, digging in it for the scrub-brush. The hard bristles of the brush would make for a good flake remover and this was the task he began first. Wherever a cake of fake blood rested he scrubbed with that dry brush first. Flaking off the larger chunks of material that could be swept up and thrown away.

The task of doing that portion alone would take the better part of a half-hour due to the amount of material he'd used. However, once it was done he would take a wash cloth from bag. Soaking it in the water and first beginning to scrub down that desk. First using the wash cloth to moisten the material then the scrubber brush to loosen it further for the cloth to wipe up. It did not take long for that bucket of water to become as crimson as the material he was cleaning up.

"Next time i'm using a cleaner method." he huffed out at the man with a glare cast toward the leaning figure.

[Vincent Meian]

The trainer really didn't care that Lei was annoyed. Punishment wasn't supposed to be fun, after all. So he didn't make any comment towards Lei's sarcastic remarks. He simply watched the young man as he removed his button-up shirt, set it aside in the chair Vincent normally sat in, and started scrubbing at the other chair. He remained silent through the half-hour process, though it wasn't in any attempt to intimidate the boy. He just refused to be a part of the games any more than he had to.


The chair mostly finished, Lei switched to the wash cloth and started wetting the sugary substance on both the chair and the desk, figuring out for himself that it would be better to mop up the liquid than scrub it into flakes. It would take less time and be slightly less messy; not much, considering that the water rapidly became saturated with the dyed sugars, but enough for a while.


Vincent didn't even say anything when Lei glared at him. He merely watched the boy, offering up no comment. Personally, he didn't think anything he said would make any sort of difference. Sometimes, people had to know when to be quiet and listen. Then again, sometimes people just had to know when to shut up.