Cherreads

Chapter 5 - SEASON 1, EP4: At School

Aqui está a tradução completa do episódio que você mandou, em inglês, mantendo o tom sombrio e denso:

The sound of the school bus seemed distant, muffled by the dull thud of Daytona's heartbeat.

This should've felt normal — going back to school after days away, maybe even relaxing — but nothing felt the same. Not even her.

Martin sat beside her, distracted by a game on his phone. The vinyl seat creaked with every bump on the road. Maybe the road was the same as always. Or maybe the whole world was the same, and only she had changed.

"Ready for the tests?" he asked without looking up.

Daytona didn't answer right away. Her fingers were interlocked in her lap, unmoving. The question was simple, but the answer… complicated. She was ready to crush a demon with her bare hands. But a math test?

"Not even close," she finally said, trying to smile.

The school gate appeared out of nowhere, like a forgotten monolith from an ancient world. Painted a faded blue, it groaned as it opened. Inside, the same pale walls and narrow hallways. Students came and went in a rush, as if time had skipped and thrown her back on stage.

But something was wrong.

People stared. Some just glanced. Others stopped in their tracks. Daytona didn't meet their eyes, but she felt them — like tiny blades scraping against her skin.

It was the aura. She knew. Since the last fight, something had shifted. Belzebub, now silent, lingered somewhere in her mind. Sleeping, maybe. Waiting.

"They can smell it."

The voice echoed inside her, deep, smooth like a poisoned whisper.

"They're not fools. Even the weak ones sense when something greater is watching."

Daytona shivered. Not from fear, but discomfort. That presence never truly left. One moment of peace always followed by a reminder: she was never alone.

"You okay?" Martin murmured, leaning closer.

She just nodded, pulling the strap of her backpack tighter. She wanted to ignore it. Pretend nothing had changed. Walk into class, sit down, take the test. Be just another student.

But the moment she stepped into the main hallway, something happened.

The sound. First it vanished. Then it returned, but distorted — like everything was underwater. The floor seemed to stretch, the light flickered. Faces around her warped for a second — pupils too wide, mouths too big.

Then it was gone. A blink.

Daytona blinked hard. She was still there. Classmates normal again, voices and footsteps back. Martin was right behind her.

"You're pale. More than usual."

"Just tired."

But she knew it wasn't just that. Belzebub knew too.

"Limits. Even with my mark, you're still flesh. Fragile."

She walked into the classroom. Everything there seemed microscopic now. The desks, the chalkboards, even the teacher who entered a moment later. He looked older than she remembered. His eyes lingered two seconds too long on Daytona before moving on.

The test was handed out. Daytona stared at the paper. Letters danced in front of her, but she read them perfectly. Her eyes were sharper now. Her mind clearer. Everything made sense, as if she'd been studying it for years.

She wrote fast. Precise. When she finished, she stared at the classroom. The ceiling. The cracks in the light fixtures. The sound of pencils scratching. The smell of sweat and cheap cologne.

The world felt… slow.

"You're getting used to it."

She didn't answer. She hated how comfortable it was becoming.

The bell rang. Relief for everyone — except for a boy in the corner of the room. He hadn't moved at all. Daytona had noticed him from the start. Silent. Deep-set eyes. He stared at her.

She stood up and left first. When Martin showed up, he was already grinning.

"Think I did better than I thought. Maybe I won't have to retake it this time."

"That's good."

They crossed the courtyard. The sky was gray, but not threatening rain. A soft breeze blew, lifting dry leaves that spun lazily in the air.

Martin looked at her curiously.

"You've changed, you know?"

Daytona frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know. The way you are. People in class seemed… I don't know, uneasy. Even the teacher seemed thrown off."

She shrugged.

"Maybe they missed me."

"Hm. Maybe. Or maybe they're afraid."

They laughed, but not with the same tone. Daytona fell silent soon after.

"He's right. Fear is the purest instinct. The first to bloom before the unknown."

Later, at lunch, Daytona went to the water fountain. The hallway was empty. As she filled a plastic cup, she heard footsteps behind her.

She turned.

It was the boy from class. The one who hadn't moved during the test. Now he stared at her even harder. His eyes were… too deep.

"You shouldn't be here," he said. His voice was thin, like torn paper.

"I go to school here."

"That's not what I meant."

Something shifted beneath his skin. Daytona took a step back.

"What do you want?"

"It's not about me. It's about him." He pointed to the center of her forehead, as if he could see something no one else could. "He shouldn't be here either."

"Kill him."

Daytona's eyes widened. The boy didn't move. Just stood there, staring straight through her.

"Kill him before fear turns to knives. They always try to kill what they don't understand."

She shut her eyes. Took a deep breath. When she opened them again, the boy was gone.

Nothing else happened that day. But the tension stayed, whispering through every corner of the school. She knew this was only the beginning. That coming back to normal life didn't erase what she was now.

And that normality, in time, would become her real disguise.

The sun had barely crossed the midday sky when Daytona opened her locker. The hinges creaked like they hadn't been opened in decades — but it had only been four days. Four days that felt like an eternity. The flickering fluorescent light above cast thin shadows on the cold metal.

She wore her uniform like a costume. Something uncomfortable that no longer matched what she was. The white school sweater clung to an older version of herself, and the navy-blue tie hung loose around her neck, barely tied.

"It'll be fine," Martin said, walking beside her.

"I don't know," Daytona replied, eyes down. "Everything feels… too fragile now."

The school hadn't changed, but the hallways felt different. Students whispered more softly. Some avoided her gaze. Others stared too long. Daytona's presence seemed to warp the air around her, like the building itself wanted to keep its distance.

Huracán was already in class, headphones around his neck as usual. He waved with a smile. Daytona returned it weakly, sitting behind him. Martin sat down beside her.

Classes dragged on. Math, biology, English. Teachers tried to ignore the whispers, but pretending Daytona wasn't there was impossible. There was something about her — a density, a silent energy humming like a bottled thunderstorm.

In the third period, a pen fell from Daytona's pencil case and rolled to a girl's foot. When she returned it, her hands were trembling slightly.

"You feel out of place. They're afraid."

Belzebub's voice cracked through her mind like shattering glass.

"They always will be. But you can make them respect that fear."

She drew a deep breath, ignoring him.

"Remember, fear is just hurried respect. The purest form of reverence."

At lunch, students scattered across the cafeteria and halls, but Daytona chose the steps outside with Martin and Huracán. The breeze was gentle, and for the first time that day, everything almost felt normal.

"At least the cafeteria food's still garbage," Huracán said, biting into a limp sandwich.

"I guess that's comforting in a way," Martin laughed.

Daytona smiled. Light. For a moment, there was a fragment of peace. But peace was a short lie.

A group of students walked by. Four boys, laughing loudly. One of them, red-haired, a t-shirt under his uniform — Jason. Daytona vaguely recognized him from science class.

"Hey, Daytona," he said with a forced smile. "Heard you missed your parents' funeral. Must've been… rough, huh? Losing both at once?"

Silence dropped like a lead weight. Huracán turned slowly. Martin looked up, unsure if it was a bad joke or something worse.

Daytona didn't move.

Jason kept going:

"Like… they say their car got crushed like ground beef. Kinda ironic, huh? Ground beef?"

He laughed. Just him. His friends didn't know whether to laugh or run.

Daytona's breath grew shallow. The light around her seemed to dim. The world's sound vanished, like sinking below a deep lake.

"That sound… that blood."

Belzebub purred in her mind, savoring it.

"Give him a gift. One last kiss of flesh and bone."

"Daytona…" Martin whispered, placing a hand on her shoulder.

Too late.

In a movement almost too quick to see, she stood up.

Jason's eyes barely had time to widen. The punch came straight, perfectly aligned, smashing into the side of his neck with brutal force — 11.7kW compressed into a single, clean strike.

The sound that followed wasn't a crack. It was wetter. Softer. Like living flesh crushed and bone splitting under pressure. Jason dropped sideways, his body folding like a rag doll.

Everyone froze. For endless seconds, no one understood what had just happened.

Jason didn't move.

A thin trickle of blood slid from his mouth. His neck was bent at an impossible angle.

"…No." Martin dropped to his knees beside him, desperate. "Jason… he…"

Daytona stood still, arms at her sides. Her breathing didn't change. It was as if nothing had happened.

"Beautiful."

Belzebub sounded pleased.

"You're beginning to understand. Rage isn't your enemy. It's your fuel."

The courtyard exploded into panic. Screams. Running feet. Teachers appeared within seconds, but it was done. Jason was dead. Daytona had killed him with a single blow.

The rest of the day blurred. Police. Ambulance. The principal's office. Shouts from parents over the phone. Martin tried to defend her. Huracán argued she'd been provoked. But it didn't matter.

Daytona was officially expelled.

When she left the building for the last time, the sun was already sinking. She walked through long shadows, Martin and Huracán beside her. None of them spoke.

But inside her, Belzebub whispered:

"This is only the beginning. You're still crawling, Daytona. But soon, the whole world will tremble with every step you take."

And somewhere high above — far, far away — ancient, patient eyes opened. Someone had felt that act. Someone who now watched Daytona with interest.

More Chapters