The delicate-looking girl walked into the classroom, obviously a new transfer student. She was every boy's dream come true, with her long dark hair falling gracefully to the small of her back, and a face to match an angel. She could have been an urban fairy in her hip-hugging jeans and crimson baby tee. Her almond-shaped eyes held a touch of silver on their lids, and there was a blush on her high cheekbones. She fiddled with the pen she was holding, twisting it with her long, tapered fingers.

Before she could announce herself to the teacher of the class, she picked up on what he was saying. Now all the other students know that this male teacher is a chauvinist, loving to rant on and on about the weakness and inferiority of women, etc. This particular day, the teacher was ranting about how women should be put back into their proper place by men, meaning women should be mindless slaves to the whims of MEN.

No one really listened to the teacher when he strayed from the intended subject of the day, and no one enjoyed his class, but since he was the only teacher in the school for sociology, endure they did.

Half the class, including all the boys, noticed the new student's expression began to change the longer she stood listening to the teacher. Every now and then his voice would break, as he tried to stress a point of great importance to him. Her soft brown eyes hardened, narrowed. Murmurs began, and soon the whole class was switching their gazes from the teacher, oblivious to anything but himself, and the girl struggling to control her anger.

With a soft growl, the girl finally threw her school bag down to the ground, which finally got the teacher's attention. As he stared in bewilderment, she withdrew from someplace behind her a long Japanese sword. Unsheathing the katana, she bared her white teeth in a grin as she launched herself at the now silent teacher.

With one hand, she swung the katana low, scratching the floor with the tip. With the other, she made a flicking motion with her fingers. As the blade came up to strike the terrified man, they exploded into flames. The stunned student body watched as the girl calmly avoided the flailing, flaming man. She watched with a satisfied smirk on her face as he burned and eventually turned into nothing more than an ash pile on the floor.

The girl walked back over to her bag, placed the katana back in its sheath, gripped the bag in her other hand, and gave one last smile to the class before she walked out the door. "You know," she said in a clear, sweet voice. "He was a bad man, but he made a nice candle."