A/N: I had posted this before, yet I didn't like it as well. It has gone through a lot of editing since, so I hope it was worth it! Enjoy!~

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Part Elf, All Elf

TheMangaWriter

Chapter 1:

It’s Alaya—Just Alaya

I sit in my headmaster’s office for a “little check in.” Personally, I think the guy is over-caring to the point of being a creep, but that is beside the point. The point is: Headmaster Ruhi is the most eccentric person I have ever met or come in contact with. His whole office is decorated like some creepy old house in movies that these full-breed humans watch all the time. There is a bearskin rug on the floor, the brown bear’s mouth open wide, gasping for air that will not come. There is also a variety of objects I cannot identify; a spherical object dotted with what Headmaster Ruhi has called “land masses” and a bunch of aquamarine paper all around it. It is held up by a metal contraption which curls around the sphere. Why not make it a box? I wonder.

Another strange thing catches my eye. Long and maroon—and almost crusty-looking—these…things hang from a metal bar above the window. It is keeping the bright light out of the room, and I wonder why Headmaster Ruhi has done this. Doesn’t he want the sun faeries to visit and leave tea and biscuits atop the book on his desk? It is then that something else catches my eye: a small animal going around a track, round and round in circles. It keeps saying “toot toot!” and I nearly leap out of my seat in surprise when it does.

“What is that?” I ask in alarm. I imagine it coming down any second, latching onto my neck and biting me like the pixie vampires do when I take walks out in the woods by my house. My headmaster is not alarmed in the least. In fact, he chuckles—he chuckles at a poor outsider girl like me.

“It’s called a train,” he says. He watches it go around the track with his alarmingly red eyes, yet one stays on me. This is his lazy eye.

Suppressing an undesired shudder, I say with a soft voice, “Oh.”

This did not explain a thing to me at all. What was a train to a half-elf, half-human girl that had only recently studied the ways of purebred humans? I want to know more. What did he feed it? What did he name it? Was it friendly? But no, this information was not given to me. For a few awkward moments, we stare at the train, and I spare a glance once or twice to his lazy eye that seems to float lazily in its socket. The room was completely silent save the running of the train and the “toot-toot!” that resounded through the high, arched-ceiling room.

Soon enough this spell of sorts breaks, and the headmaster walks around his desk to sit in the chair behind it. It is a massive chair with sturdy oak arms and a material on the back in a wide, long, red circle. It is not unlike the crusty, crushed window-hangings, I think.

Now sitting in the chair, Headmaster Ruhi speaks. “So, Alaya, I have received the forms you filled out at the admissions office this morning. We’ve decided that you are permitted to attend this school, but there is one problem.” He crosses his hands atop his desk and adds, “You did not print or sign your last name.”

In hearing this, I almost sigh, which—in my culture—is a sign of disrespect. I am tired of explaining to people bits and pieces about my culture, such as my name. You see, in the world of elves, not one of us—meaning the working-class ones—have a last name; only nobles and royalty are permitted to have last names. This is just how it is. All of this is on the tip of my tongue.

“Headmaster,” I say softly and timidly, “where I come from, last names only exist for nobles and royalty. I’m only a peasant.”

I see Headmaster Ruhi’s eyes spark in realization. “I apologize, Alaya! I didn’t realize…” He trails off in the middle of his thought when someone knocks on the door to his office, which sits behind me. “Come in!” he calls, and I turn to see who walks in.

A young man about the age of seventeen walks in. He is tall in stature with a long, angular face that seems to be made of porcelain—he’s truly that pale. He is clean shaven save the clean cut sideburns, and his medium length dark brown hair falls halfway to his shoulders. He is adorned in a black coat. The material looks as though it is wool, but thicker than knitting could make it, denser than knitting could make it. What was this called? I believe it was felt. On this felt coat were many buttons, buttons that looked like teeth of a large animal, perhaps a full grown wimsickler’s teeth. How had he killed such a strong animal? I wondered. I did not have time to think about this, as he addressed the headmaster.

“Headmaster Ruhi, the chickens have escaped from their fence again,” says he. His eyes fall on me, then dart back to the headmaster. “I’m sorry. Am I interrupting?”

“No, no, not at all, my dear boy,” says Headmaster Ruhi. “In fact, I was just about to dismiss Alaya here to her first class. She’s in fifth year of primary school, you know, almost in secondary school.” He gives the boy a wink. I am under the impression I am not supposed to know this. Nevertheless, I keep looking back and forth at them as the conversation continues.

“Ah, a fifth year, huh?” says the boy. “It’s nice to meet you, Alaya-san. I am Sargrim Yosaka. I’m a second year in secondary school.” I nod. Secondary school in the magic realm of humans is like being a senior in a normal high school setting. By normal, I mean a no-folk human school—a school for non-magical students. As for the realm of elves, there is no public education. Those who are wealthy may receive an education, and those who are not, do not, no ifs ands or buts. That’s just the way it is.

“Would you be so kind,” says Ruhi, “as to take Alaya to her first period class?”

I want to say, “Oh no, that’s alright,” but I don’t get the chance. With bright, friendly eyes, Yosaka gives his reply.

Almost immediately he says, “Yes, of course I will.” With that, he leads me from the room with a quick good-bye to Headmaster Ruhi.

The halls outside the office belonging to the headmaster are just the same as I had left them, I soon find. The floors are made of gray and white marble that seems to sparkle in the torchlight. Fire created by magic glows with an emerald light from behind a small iron-barred cage, casting long, eerie shadows along the floor. There is a runner rug that stretches as far as the eye can see; it is crimson. Paintings of all kinds line the walls. There are class photos and paintings that go at least fifty years back—and that’s just in one hallway. I wonder how old this school really is. With this in mind, I turn to Yosaka-san and ask, “Yosaka-san, how old is this academy?” He glanced back at me and gave me a strange look. “I’m sorry. Is my grammar wrong?” I was always conscious of my grammar seeing as this is not my native language.

Sargrim Yosaka gave a small chuckle. “No, that’s not it, Alaya-san. It’s what you called me. You can just call me Sargrim—really you can.” He rested his hand on my head and gave me a smile. I smiled back, quite unsure. I had never experienced anyone doing this to me; perhaps it was a sign of affection? Oh, I was so confused.

I don’t have time to say much more because Sargrim asks, “Alaya, what class do you have first?”

Stopping, I pull my messenger bag across my stomach so that I can rummage through it. Inside are my school books. There are three text books within the bag: Basic Spells: Year Five, Advanced Brews for Fifth Years, and English and Calligraphy. They are maroon, hunter green, and royal blue, and they are insanely thick, the thinnest being about eight hundred pages long. This load doesn’t include scrolls for writing, my pens, my ink, or my schedule, which is resting right at the top of the pile. I pull it out.

“I have Basic Spells first,” I tell him, and he gives a nod.

“It’s right down this hall,” he says, and leads me to the classroom. I thank him. “No problem,” he says, and he takes his leave. I wait until the sound of his footsteps vanish, which is about the time that he turned a corner, disappearing from sight.

I realize with horror my legs are shaking, along with the rest of me. I am petrified. Coming here had not been my choice, yet the fact that I would be attending Ruhi Magic Academy had not sunk in—not until that very moment. Now I was facing reality; I was facing the truth that my father is forcing me to attend a school that I do not want to attend. Biting my lip, I enter, swallowing my pride in the process. It is too late to turn back.

The students all turn to look at me, and the professor, who was directing the class to do goodness-knows-what-spell, stops and looks up as well. “Ah,” she says, golden eyes meeting mine, “You must be the new student, Alaya.”

“Yes, I am,” I reply, and I find my voice is quiet, which amuses the students. Titters go about the small classroom in small waves, waves that are rocking my boat. I’m not sure how much longer I can stay afloat. Already I am taking on water; it is extra weight that I cannot bear.

“You may leave your books on your desk,” she says, pointing to the only empty desk of less than ten in the room, “and come up here and tell us a little bit about yourself.”

I nearly faint right then and there. She is showing me off like…like…some possession of hers, like I am her plaything! I want to sigh at her, but I do not. I want to make a good impression. And so I go to the front of the class. I give a small, feeble, barely-there sort of wave; I’d read it was a common gesture among humans—magic and no-folk alike. I don’t get a single wave in response, so I cough to stall for time. Then I say quietly, “My name is Alaya.”

“What’s your last name?” one of them asks, and again I immediately launch into my prepared speech about nobles and royalty being the ones that have last names in my culture.

“You’re an elf?” someone asks, and I give a nod. Whispers circulate about the room, but the teacher quickly puts an end to this.

“All right, all right. Alaya, dear, you can take your seat now.” I think of protesting and asking for her name first, but I decide that I have already disturbed the class enough. I sit down and pay attention.

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A/N: This was suspiciously like my other story, "Here Kitty, Kitty," but I hope that feeling is gone now. What do you think? Please review, and thanks for looking!