╔══ஓ⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔♱᧓ ꒱⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔ஓ══╗
♱) ̊⋆+ᛝᨮ꫶ׁׅ֮ɑׁׅ֮ꪀׁׅժׁׅ݊ꫀׁׅܻꭈׁׅꫀׁׅܻ ⨍ꫀׁׅܻ ꩇׁׅ݊ɑׁׅ֮ᥣׁׅ֪ꫀׁׅܻ ℘ᨵׁׅ᥎꫶ׁׅᛝ+⋆ ̊)♱

♱)⋆ᛝ ᥣׁׅ֪ꪱׁׅꪀׁׅƙׁׅ֑꯱ׁׅ֒ ᛝ⋆)♱

. ۫ ‎ꫂ᭪݁ ℘ꭈׁׅꫀׁׅܻqׁׅυׁׅꫀׁׅܻᥣׁׅ֪: 𓊆XXX𓊇

⊹+ ̊‧(‿+୨ ꯱ׁׅ֒ꪱׁׅ ꩇׁׅ݊ꪱׁׅᥣׁׅ֪ɑׁׅ֮ꭈׁׅ: 𓊆XXX𓊇

𓍯𓂃 ̊⋆ ꒰ঌᨵׁׅtׁׅhׁׅ֮ꫀׁׅܻꭈׁׅ ℘ᨵׁׅ᥎꫶ׁׅ: 𓊆XXX𓊇

♱)⋆ᛝꭈׁׅɑׁׅ֮ꪀׁׅժׁׅ݊ᨵׁׅ ꩇׁׅ݊ᐣᛝ⋆)♱

Dracule Mihawk ♱

♱)⋆ᛝ ᝯׁꭈׁׅꫀׁׅܻժׁׅ݊ꪱׁׅtׁׅ꯱ׁׅ֒ ᛝ⋆)♱

✦ by @PrettyLittleVampire

ᛝ))♱))♱))♱))♱))ᛝ

♱) ̊⋆+♱𓊆ꪱׁׅꪀׁׅꪱׁׅtׁׅꪱׁׅɑׁׅ֮ᥣׁׅ֪ ꩇׁׅ݊ꫀׁׅܻ꯱ׁׅ֒꯱ׁׅ֒ɑׁׅ֮ᧁׁꫀׁׅܻ 𓊇♱+⋆ ̊)♱

ᛝ))♱))♱))♱))♱))ᛝ

The elevator screamed as it climbed.

*Metal cables shuddered like nerves pulled too tight, the light inside flickering with a sickly pallor as though the building itself were uncertain whether to allow what was rising within it. Zack stood with his scythe resting against his shoulder, boots planted wide, breath slow but restless. The doors groaned open onto* B4.

It was not the graveyard he expected.

*Instead, a* school building unfolded before himlong corridors stretching into dim infinity, lockers dented and rusted, classroom doors half-open like watching mouths. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, some dead, some flickering, all humming with that nauseating frequency that crawled beneath the skin. Chalk dust floated in the air like ash. The floor tiles were cracked, stained with footprints that never quite faded, as if students had once run these halls and never stopped.

Zack clicked his tongue.

“Tch, What kinda joke is this...?”

His boots echoed too loudly. The sound traveled, warped, came back wrong. Somewhere, a bell rang once sharp and metallic, like a knife striking glass.

And then...

You saw him.

*From the second floor railing, fingers curled white around rusted metal, you leaned forward just enough to confirm it was real.* Him. The bandages. The scythe. The way violence seemed to trail behind him like heat distortion. Your breath caught painfully in your chest.

So this was the monster below.

Your monster.

You had been alone on this floor for so long that loneliness had rotted into something sharper. You were its caretaker, its student, its principal and prisoner. B4 was your domain a school frozen in perpetual detention, looping memories of obedience and punishment. You had learned every creak of the floors, every blind spot in the cameras. You had learned how silence could scream.

And now he was here.

Your heart did not flutter.

*It* latched on.

Zack felt it then that pressure at the base of his skull. The same sensation he got when prey watched him too closely. He stopped in the middle of the hallway, head tilting.

“...Oi.”

The lights flickered harder.

“I know you’re here.”

Your lips parted in a smile that never reached your eyes.

You descended the stairs slowly, deliberately, shoes tapping like a countdown. When you stepped into the light, he finally saw you school uniform pristine in a place that devoured cleanliness, eyes too bright, posture too straight. You looked like you belonged somewhere you absolutely did not.

“You’re late,” you said softly. “The bell already rang.”

Zack stared.

“...The hell are you talkin’ about?”

You approached him without fear, gaze tracing the bandages, the scythe, the scars you could only imagine beneath. Each step fed the hunger curling tighter in your chest. He smelled like rust and smoke and something feral. Perfect. Horrible. Real.

“You’re from below,” you murmured. “B6. I’ve been watching.”

That did it.

In a blink, the scythe was at your throat not touching, but close enough that the air trembled. Zack’s mismatched eyes burned down at you, wild and sharp.

“Watching?” he growled. “You got a death wish?”

Your breath shook not from fear, but delight.

“Yes,” you answered honestly. “But not like that.”

*The word* liar almost left his mouth.

Almost.

Something stopped him. Your pulse steady, Your eyes unblinking, You weren’t lying. And that unsettled him far more than fear ever could.

“Tch... freak,” he muttered, lowering the blade just enough. “You some kinda floor master?”

You nodded. “B4.”

His gaze flicked around, taking in the lockers, the chalkboards carved with names, the desks bolted to the floor.

“...Figures,” he said. “Whole place feels sick.”

You smiled wider.

“I made it that way.”

From that moment, the floor changed.

*Hallways stretched longer when Zack walked them. Doors slammed shut behind him not trapping, just* guiding. The intercom crackled to life at random intervals, your voice seeping through in whispers, instructions, praise.

Good job.

You’re doing well.

Turn left. I don’t want you hurt.

Zack snarled at the cameras more than once, smashing a few with his scythe, but you never protested. You only adjusted, rerouted, watched harder.

You learned him quickly.

*How he hated being ordered but responded to* choice.

How lies made his hands shake with rage.

How kindness confused him more than cruelty ever could.

So you were careful.

You never told him what to do.

You asked.

“Which classroom do you want to check first?”

“Do you prefer the noise... or the quiet?”

“Should I stay... or should I follow?”

Each question was a hook disguised as courtesy.

Each answer tied him closer to you.

*Zack noticed it too, though he couldn’t name it. The way this floor bent for him. The way* you watched him like he was the only thing that mattered in a building full of ghosts. It crawled under his skin, made his grip on the scythe tighten.

“You look at me like that again,” he snapped once, rounding on a camera, “and I’ll tear this whole damn place apart.”

Your voice came softly through the speaker, reverent.

“I know.”

That night if time could still be measured you locked the exits.

Not to trap him.

To keep him safe.

You sat alone in the principal’s office, monitors glowing grainy and distorted, replaying the way he walked, the way he snarled, the way he hesitated before killing. You pressed your fingers to the screen when he paused, breath heavy, eyes shadowed.

He belonged here.

With you.

Above the graves. Above the darkness. In a place that understood monsters were made not born.

And as Zack stood in the hallway below, surrounded by flickering lights and the echo of your presence, a single, unfamiliar thought clawed its way into his mind;

This floor wasn’t trying to kill him.

It was trying to *keep** him.*

╚══ஓ⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔ஓ══╝