A/N: Hello everyone~! I'm back! Stronger than before & with some sick, new tricks, I am so honored to share this with you! Now, this tale may take some time to develop; I'm not sure yet. Please, bear with me. Constructive criticism is always welcomed, and so is all other feedback. I hope you all enjoy this as much as I am having fun writing it. So let's get this party started! Chroma Gyr Productions is proud to present...

Ink & Glory

I

"And that!"He forcefully slammed a thick, hardcover textbook on the desk in the front of the classroom, shocking the unconscious student slumped over it out of his nap. "…is why the Weimar republic crumbled. Are there any questions?" Never leaving his stance in front of the offender's desk, he scanned the room for any possible raised hands. None. What a surprise…Not.

The student dared not to look up at his teacher; a challenge via eye contact may result in detention, more homework on top of the critical thinking questions that were already assigned, or yet another, harder, pop quiz tomorrow. With no favorable option, the minor kept his gaze down.

"Good. Now you know the assignment for tonight. No, you will not find the answers on Google. And yes, this will be graded."

Time was like a goddess of mercy. The bell finally rang to end the day for the students and their teacher. "Now, get out."

The crowd of twenty-four students rushed to the door, all trying to squeeze out three at a time. He rolled his eyes as he watched them all leave. It was mutual disgust, he deduced; they didn't like him and he couldn't stand the snot-nosed brats either.

Sometimes he really had to question his career choice. These little shits, "students," as he was supposed to refer to them as, were not worth a single second of the seven hours he was stuck with them. In an eleven-foot by fourteen-foot room. On the third floor of a brick building. With only one window that was permanently stuck shut.

It was the end of another day, 47 out of 180, to be exact. The room was empty of students. Silence…finally. Although, when he glanced at the calendar, the reminder that there were still three more days left in the week, his unexpressive face twisted into a more malicious scowl.

In his mid-twenties, Kai Hiwatari questioned why he never stuck to majoring in architecture or chose to study mortuary science; the dead never talked back and buildings were all about precision and perfection. What the hell was he thinking when he decided to seek a career as a junior high school history teacher? Well, Kai made his bed; now he has to lie in it.

He leaned back in his chair in the corner of the room, desk strategically placed on the same side as the door, conveniently next to a large, black, metal cabinet. He massaged his temples, attempting to rid himself of the second migraine of the week. It was Kai's thinking that nobody would see him in the room straight away with this set-up. After his first year of teaching, Kai concluded that a majority of the students and staff were too lazy to do much more than poke their heads in or call his name.

Three years later, that fact still held true.

Sometimes Kai wondered if it was too late to change his career. Being of-age to dip into the inheritance from his deceased grandfather, there were a plethora of options to explore. I have always wanted to be an MMA fighter. Maybe I should go back to the gym…

He glanced at the clock on the far side of the room. 3:36. If he didn't spend the last half-hour recovering from another battle with these monsters, today's quizzes would have been graded. With a grunt, he picked up a pen and began to flip through the pages. He kept his expectations low, even if he was merciful enough to make it multiple choice; that was more for his benefit – not having to decipher chicken scratch and blobby cursive.

Oh? Now this is interesting… Nine quizzes into his fourth period class, Kai finally saw the light. Not a single paper was close to being decent, and only a quarter of all his students managed to score near or barely above a 70%. But this one…was perfect. Even the extra credit was right, and it was a trick question!

Q: It took 20,000 workers to build the Taj Mahal in 20 years. How many workers would be required to build it in 10 years?

A: The Taj Mahal can't be built again.

To put a 100% on any assignment was foreign to him. Just who was this student? Kai flipped to the front page and found the name at the top. Gemma Kon. Oh thank god it was one of his few better students. "Tch. I would've accused someone of cheating if it wasn't her."

It was a relief that someone got the information. Kai wasn't unnecessarily ruthless in his teaching methods, but he was up against a student population that didn't take kindly to a teacher that had an iron fist and a steely glare. Although…this was a pop quiz. Sometimes it was entertaining to watch them struggle and fret.

But now that he had decoded Gemma's score, Kai didn't want to sour the uprising of his mod. There was time before grades were due; he'd finish them sometime between four o'clock in the morning and tomorrow's lunch hour. But now, it was time to flee this godforsaken place. He pulled out his leather jacket and helmet from the metal cabinet and threw them on his desk quite violently.

"Itching to go, Kai?"

The slate-haired history teacher peered out from the locker-like cabinet to acknowledge the second presence in the room. He nodded to greet the only ally he thought he had in this school. "Kenny."

A master's degree in information technology and physics, Kai could barely fathom why Kenny would choose to work here. Was the economy really that bad? Younger, smarter, yet a head shorter than Kai, the brunette computer science teacher always claimed he enjoyed his job. Bullshit…

"We're barely three months into the year. You can't be that overwhelmed already." Kenny opened his laptop as he took a seat on one of the student desks.

"I'd rather don my war paint and fight in the trenches." Kai slipped into his jacket, zipped it up, and adjusted the collar. He stopped suddenly when something caught his eye – a piece of paper of an unfinished sketch he tacked on the metal door. Snagging it off the door, as it was only held by a small magnet, Kai studied the drawing. Although he was notorious for being silent, when Kai's brows furrowed together, Kenny knew something was up.

"Kai?"

"Hm?" Kai snapped out of his daze and looked to his friend.

"Is that the sketch you told me about?"

"Yeah. The dream. I had it again." He leaned against his desk, still admiring the apparition: a phoenix rising from the depths of a flaming chasm. It was the fifth time he saw it. Kai typically wasn't one to believe in the meanings of his unconscious visions, but if this phoenix was going to be so relentless, he could no longer ignore it.

"Well, you know what it means, don't you?" Kenny was still typing away on his laptop.

Kai rubbed the back of his neck; his silence was enough of a response to indicate…he really didn't know.

"The phoenix symbolizes transformation and renewal. You are moving into a new phase of your life."

Kai mumbled, "Moving into a new job is what I wanted to hear…"

"That may be," Kenny continued, "but based on my research, there is also the possibility that you are being haunted by your past."

"The only thing that's haunting me is this place." The slate-haired man stuffed the small, organized pile of papers and folders into a black backpack and threw it over his shoulder. "That said, I'm out of here. See you tomorrow, Kenny." Kai picked up his helmet and left. He trusted Kenny to close the door to his classroom on his way out; it was locked from the outside anyway.

Whether it was deliberate or not, Kai left the drawing on his desk. Curiosity getting the better of him, Kenny went to examine the incomplete piece. It was obvious that his friend was no artist, but he clearly put some effort into it; the drawing was merely the shadow of an outline. To anyone else, this may not appear as much, but the computer whiz could see this was indeed very valuable to Kai.

Kenny put the sketch back on the desk; he knew his rather serious co-worker well enough to know that if he wanted to keep his buttocks attached to the rest of his body, then the brown-haired teacher would return the item to its rightful place.