Satoshi
Gentle - Hopeful - Proud
Pet Information
Pet Name: Satoshi
Owner: Melody
Theme / Type: Tropical Belragoth
Born: October 9, 2010
Gender: Male
MisticPal Name: Unity
MisticPal Age: 5157 Days
Battle Portal Stats
Hit Points: 2 / 2
Strength: 2
Defense: 3
Speed: 2
Intellect: 2
Misticpower: 1
Battles Won: 0
Battles Lost: 0
| Attached Weapons | |
Books Read
Books Read: None
Exotic Foods Eaten
Foods Eaten: 0/1254 [ View Foods ]
Pet Profile
Possibly to be a Daydream Belragoth?
He could picture her face as if she stood before him now. Had it truly been just yesterday that she had come? It had surprised him, at first: they had been close, or as close as a quiet teacher and a busy student could be, but they hadn't seen each other for months. And then she came into his classroom one day and sat quietly while he cleaned the blackboard, humming to himself. He hadn't even noticed her for a minute or two. She stayed for only a moment, smiled like he remembered, and thanked him. For everything, she said. He had given a lighthearted response. He had said he was proud to have been her teacher, and that he was glad to see how much she was going on to achieve. And she had smiled one last time and left, one last time.
And now the pale newspaper lay in his hand. His reddened eyes had read the words over and over, and still he could not accept the words he read. It was impossible to imagine that the bright young girl he had known, whom he had seen grow, could be gone from this world. It was impossible to comprehend that the girl who had always had a smile on her face had hidden something for all these years. She had left behind only a short typed note, her final poem. He remembered it. She had written the lines in his class a year ago. Had it been so long?
"I want another sunrise
A different day, one I'd be able to face
With pride and strength, no grey clouds
To hide my smiles and wreathe my face in tears
Of sky and earth, and my own so pale as they fall
And break against the ground
Lit by this sunrise.
I want another sunrise
One where the birds sing
But don't cry.
I've cried tears enough for this sunrise
And any other lonely dawn."
At the bottom, she had scribbled with a shaking hand. "I go to the bridge to watch the sun die, and then I shall follow."
And what was he doing, sitting here? He taught people to imagine, to create, to immerse themselves in the world of literature - what good was that if he could not help them to live in the physical world? How many times had he thought that she was the embodiment of why he had begun teaching? He had thought he was able to touch her life, to inspire her. But now that life was gone, and she had come to see him the day before she ended it, and he had done nothing. He hadn't known. She was giving him her final words, and he had waved her off, thinking nothing of it.
And yet he was supposed to be the teacher. He was supposed to be a guide to these children. He was supposed to be the one answering all the questions. Yet how could he be a guide when he was lost? How could he provide answers when he was weighted by so many questions himself?
He put down the newspaper, tucked it into his desk and rose to his feet. In an hour they would come, fifteen kids who called him "teacher". In three hours, eighteen more. Tomorrow, more still. And in the years to come, a thousand faces would roll by. She was gone - but Time left no time for mourning. The world waited. He was no guide, but... she had thanked him, hadn't she? In the end, it hadn't been enough. Perhaps it never would be. But it had been something, and perhaps that was all one lonely man could do for one lonely girl.
He couldn't accept that.
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