I wandered the streets, bored out of my own skull. I wonder if i had ever sleep... i wish to dream... I hate it when nothing came—no dreams, no colors—just a blank stretch of darkness. Now I walked along the corner, staring at my hands as faint flashes of someone who once helped me flickered in the back of my mind.
Up ahead stood a lone figure: an old man with a pale face and a thinning beard. He tossed crumbs to the birds, each movement slow. A cane hung across his back; his coat was worn thin, sweater frayed, a bit torn, barely holding off the cold.
I stepped toward him, a small smile pulling at my lips. "Do you need help?"
The old man glanced at me, expression unreadable. "You want work?"
Adam paused, wondering how exactly he could help him. Fantasizing about helping things that shouldn't exist in this world—magic. "If you want," he said.
The old man snorted and turned his face away. "No."
That surprised Adam. He raised a hand as if to shield himself from the rejection. "Huh? Why?"
"Kid, shouldn't you be in school?" the old man muttered. "Why are you wandering around offering help to someone you don't even know?" He struggled to stand, his legs trembling, but stayed upright through sheer stubbornness.
Adam shrugged. "It's fine if you can't pay me back."
The man squinted at him, suspicious. "I refused, didn't I? You're even more suspicious now. What exactly are you trying to do?"
Adam felt sweat on his forehead. He wasn't acting for reward—just following a memory, someone else's kindness... "Trying to help you," he said quietly.
"…I refuse." The words were flat.
Adam frowned. This old man's personality was nothing like the one he remembered. "Huh? Why?"
"You haven't shown me anything."
What did I ever show you? he wondered irritably.
The old man let out a tired huff, pressing a hand against his aching back. "Determination. To act. To keep trying even when you fail. To stand firm and not do the wrong thing. I don't know you. That's why I refuse. And you're late for school. So scram."
Adam fidgeted. School bored him. He didn't need it—not with the powers he had.
[Rehan: You can still learn things from outside sources, Adam… But still…] Her voice trembled awkwardly at how casually he dismissed education.
What can school even do? Adam thought. It doesn't teach you how to survive. They take your money, then forget you the moment you're gone.
[Rehan: Maybe… but school still gives people a foundation. A way to trust you won't mess up when you work later.]
Maybe he was being unfair. He smiled faintly, remembering fragments of a life where someone—his mother—kept telling him it wasn't his fault. Even when she succumb.
He fell quiet, lost in his head. The old man frowned at the sudden silence. "Would you still help me?" Adam asked.
The old man's voice softened, though his face stayed stern. "Do you really want a job?"
Adam grinned suddenly, thumbs up, burying whatever emotion had risen. "Nah. I don't need a job. I'm self-sustaining." He smirked jokingly.
Then a voice cut through everything.
"Are you in pain?"
Something cracked inside him. He didn't know why he hurt—only that suffering never meant you were good or bad. It just hurt. And he hated it.
"I don't know your life," the man said carefully. "Are you alright?"
"Of course I am!" Adam snapped.
Heat flickered in his head and hair—memories of shoulders burdened. By death, people lost for nothing. He hadn't saved a single one. Not then. Not now. And he hated himself for it...
He failed again... Failed to save his friends...
The old man sighed and stepped back. Adam saw clearly: no persuasion would change his mind.
"I'm not someone who needs help," the man muttered. "Not yet. Find someone else to help." He pointed with his stick and walked away.
Silence settled. Adam felt hollow. He punched the concrete beside him; a crack shot across it. He breathed hard, wiped his face, and forced a smile as he walked on. The cold seeped deeper through the environment.
This world felt… thin. Like paper.
He blinked at the strange sight, then sighed. People always got hurt trying to stand beside him. He was grateful for them. Yet…
"But… do I really hurt the people around me?" he murmured.
Manori's POV
Manori walked with a blank expression, but her chest held a quiet, fragile hope—that everything might be okay now. Maybe it really was magic. She stopped in front of the school gates, breathed in, and stepped inside.
Eyes followed her immediately. The girl who vanished for days… for months. She ignored the stares as best she could.
She took a seat by the window. Outside, girls with short hair played volleyball on the court. Boys laughed over basketball. Normal life.
Two girls approached her, eyes shimmering. "Mai! Where were you?" They hugged her tightly. She blinked, surprised, then managed a small smile. "Yeah… I'm back."
One girl had snow-white hair blended with black, wearing the neatest, shiniest uniform in class. Her bag was spotless, a large tumbler and phone at her side. "Where were you? But… I'm glad you came back," she said softly.
Ryoko chattered about her hobbies and the work she'd been doing. Oriele talked excitedly about the novels she'd read and asked if Mai wanted to borrow one of her games. They talked about vacations and assignments as if trying to fill the gap she'd left behind.
Then the door slid open. A teacher with glasses stepped in and looked straight at her.
"Mai…?"
Mai froze. "Yeah?"
Silence spread. Whispers rose among the students. Her stomach tightened.
"Didn't you receive the suspension letter?" the teacher asked. "Come with me to the principal's office."
What…?
Suspended…?
Her throat dried. She swallowed hard and gathered what courage and hope she had left, then followed the teacher.
To be continued.