A mediocre life.A dull job.Endless encounters with people he didn't want to see.
The only thing to look forward to each day was an unchanging tomorrow, because change rarely ever brought anything good.
Even after being ground smooth over time, the coarse sandpaper of life kept scratching new wounds, scraping him down further.
In the past, anime and games had been enough to numb him, to fill the emptiness. But slowly, even that spiritual food no longer satisfied the ever-widening void inside.
"...Ahh."
With that weary sigh, a blinding light rushed closer, the deafening, panicked blare of a car horn swelling louder and louder until—
Bang!
Ishikawa Hayabusa opened his eyes.
In that instant, a spark of light burst in them. He threw back his blanket, leapt out of bed, planted his hands on his hips, and looked up as he shouted:
"Today as well, I am absolutely perverted enough!"
"Brother! You're so damn noisy!"
From the room next door, his younger sister yelled her complaint.
But as a proud pervert, how could Ishikawa Hayabusa accept complaints without offering a reply?
He yanked open his door like lightning and charged into the room of his middle-schooler sister, who had just gotten out of bed in her pajamas. Pointing dramatically at her from across the room, he declared:
"Foolish little sister! How dare you rebel against your older brother?!"
His gestures were flamboyant, his handsome face full of righteous spirit.…Though he was still wearing pale blue pajamas.
His sister, Ishikawa Hibiki, flushed red in an instant—not from embarrassment, but from pure fury.
With a brother like this, she would never have to worry about low blood pressure for the rest of her life.
"You! Get! Out!"
Without hesitation, she snatched up the nearest hard object at hand. As the ballet club captain, she combined a quick retreat with a high kick, her foot slamming down to brace as she hurled the alarm clock with all her strength.
The clock flew at 100 km/h!
Clock throwwwww~!
Thud!
Hayabusa caught the alarm clock cleanly before it could hit his face, set it gently on the floor, and tilted his head back with a triumphant grin as he strolled out.
He even shut her door behind him.
Back in his room, Hayabusa changed into his school uniform. The dark brown suit jacket failed to highlight his natural good looks, but he still tilted his chin up with satisfaction as he slung his bag over his shoulder.
"The second evolution of a pervert—high school life—begins now!"
Hayabusa came down from the second floor.
Having lived through one terrible life already, he had resolved to carve a different path this time.
If he kept cowering like before, letting the weight of everything crush him without resistance, then no matter how many lives he lived, he'd always be nothing but an insect.
A small, insignificant insect, laboring away pointlessly, existing only to be stepped on.
"Good morning, Father, Mother! Greetings from your proud perverted high schooler!"
Raising his hand high, Hayabusa cheerfully greeted his parents at the breakfast table—his father buried in the newspaper, his mother sipping coffee.
"Good morning, Hayabusa," his mother answered gently, unfazed by the strangeness of his words.
"Mm." His father only nodded.
Years of enduring their son's bizarre perverted declarations had long inured them to such greetings.
Hayabusa sat down and began eating. Soon after, his sister Hibiki came down as well. The moment she saw her brother at the table, her brow twitched. After some hesitation, she reluctantly sat beside him—but quietly dragged her chair a little farther away.
Munching on toast slathered with ketchup, Hayabusa noticed the scraping sound of the chair. He turned to glance at Hibiki, dressed neatly in her autumn-winter long uniform, black tights covering her legs.
Grinning, he gave her a big thumbs-up.
A shiver ran down Hibiki's spine. Horrified, she turned pleadingly to their parents.
But they ignored it completely.
For her own safety, Hibiki tried to redirect the fire.
"When is my pervert of a brother going to get himself a girlfriend?"
Her father, still staring at the newspaper, replied casually without lifting his head.
"Once you're past high school, it gets harder to meet someone you like."
"I agree," their mother added warmly. "Hayabusa, you can't keep being so perverted. Girls will run away from you."
Surrounded by their attacks, Hayabusa calmly sipped his coffee, swallowed the last bite of bread, and stood.
"Just give me two months, and I'll show you the true strength of a future harem king!"
Confidence blazing, he strode up to his parents.
"Goodbye kisses from your devoted high school son!"
Amused yet resigned, they let him kiss their cheeks.
Then he turned toward his sister. Ignoring her terrified expression and desperate attempts to resist, he planted a kiss on her cheek as well, before grabbing his bag and heading for the door.
"Good afternoon in advance! This is an early greeting from your neighborhood pervert! Bye-bye!"
"Have a safe trip~" his mother called after him with a smile.
Stepping outside, Hayabusa raised his hand in greeting to the elderly neighbor watering flowers.
"Good morning, Grandpa! Please give me your granddaughter's LINE!"
"She's seven, idiot! She doesn't even have one! Get lost, you brat!"
Laughing at the old man's curse, Hayabusa quickened his pace.
Along the way, he greeted everyone he knew. Some smiled and returned his odd perverted greetings without minding the word "pervert" at all. Some teased him back, and others even copied his style in reply.
Hayabusa smiled the whole way.
Until he saw a girl standing in front of a shop window—and his smile froze in astonishment.
"So that's how it is…"
Although he carried the knowledge of a past life and countless artistic works, Ishikawa Hayabusa never wanted to rely on them.
He wanted to live a different life here, to make it his own.
Yes, he might run into terrible things. He might fail. He might even hit rock bottom all over again.
But if he took fragments of others' creations from his memory and stacked them up as the stones of his own success, then wouldn't he become the very type of person he once despised most?
Those who seize others' efforts, turning them into their own wealth and power without shame.
Maybe he was being too radical, but this was his pride.
He refused to be corrupted.
He had already lost everything once. If he surrendered even the last line of his inner bottom line, then what would he have left?
And so, for over a decade, he had lived an ordinary life. Though gifted enough to occasionally pen some fresh, creative stories for pocket money, he had remained just another face in the crowd.
But that wasn't the life he wanted.
How could he truly live differently?
He had pondered this endlessly.
And today, when he saw her—wearing a pink tracksuit, a guitar strapped to her back, her hands decorated with band keychains, her bag plastered with band badges—an idea struck him like lightning.
He knew her. Or rather, he thought he knew her.
If his guess was right, her name was Goto Ichiri—a severely introverted girl, someone he recognized from the anime and games of his past life.
And now she stood before him, alive, three-dimensional, real.
Her face carried a faint look of expectation as she gazed into a mirror. A small, puzzled smile hovered on her lips—before she abruptly tensed up, her expression stiffening as she forced herself to step forward.
Ah, she noticed him.
Hayabusa, of course, felt no guilt about staring at the girl long enough to make her nervous.
On the contrary, he followed her unhurriedly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
"As a pervert, tailing someone should be perfectly normal, right?"
The logic felt flawless to him. And so, ignoring the growing tension in Goto Ichiri's steps, Ishikawa Hayabusa cheerfully trailed right after her.