"Neicul,wakeup! Timefor school.This is your last year, please take it seriously!"
Grandma's voice, a gentle but insistent rhythm from the kitchen, was my alarm
clock's backup. I groaned, burrowing my head deeper into my pillow. It was a
familiar, tired protest. Staying up all night playing a fantasy RPG had been a mistake,
a desperate attempt to escape a reality where I was always the powerless side
character. I sighed, dragging myself out of bed. The uniform felt heavy and stiff, a
constant
reminder of the life I was supposed to be living. A life of normal expectations in a
world that was anything but. I stepped out of my room, the smell of miso soup and
grilled fish already filling the
air. Grandma stood by the kitchen table, a small tray of food in her hands.
"Don't forget your breakfast," she said, her eyes warm. "You won't become a doctor
on an empty stomach like this."
I took the tray, forcing a small smile. "Sure, Grandma. Whatever you say."
She had always pushed me toward medicine, a path where intellect and hard work
still held some value. But the dream felt useless now. In a world full of S-Tier healing
doctors who could regrow limbs and cure diseases with a thought, what good was a
powerless kid with a textbook? I just ate to appease her, because the
disappointment in her eyes was a pain I couldn't bear. She had sacrificed so much
for me.
As I put on my shoes by the door, she gave me the same worried look she always
did. "Be careful out there, don't stay out too late at the arcade and come straight
home." From the living room, the news anchor's voice cut through the air. "...still no
sign of
The Deity. The serial killer remains uncaught, just like the Hero Killer who emerged
five years ago and still hasn't been found." Grandma sighed, shaking her head. "Why
won't they do anything about it?" she
mumbled to herself, her eyes fixed on the television screen. They meant the heroes. But I knew why. The Deity wasn't a rampaging monster that
would get them on the front page. He was just a killer. And capturing a killer, no
matter how heinous, wouldn't get a hero a better ranking.
My walk to school was a blur of apathetic faces and glowing screens. I found my
usual spot in the classroom: the last row, to the right, isolated from everyone else.
The whispers started the moment I sat down.
"That's him...the freak."
I recognized those gazes. The mixture of curiosity and pity, the hushed voices. It
wasn't a new feeling. I'd gotten used to it. It was the price of being a one-in-a-billion
anomaly.
The bell rang, and the teacher walked in, a strained smile on his face. "Alright, class.
We have a new transfer student who just arrived from America."
A hush fell over the room as a boy with perfect blonde hair and a confident smirk
walked in. He was tall, his uniform fitting him like it had been custom-made. He
stood at the front of the class and a collective gasp, followed by a chorus of giggles,
swept through the girls.
"My name is Speedy," he said, his voice as smooth as his hair. "I'm here as an
exchange student, and I aim to be the number one hero of Japan."
The teacher's smile widened. "Well, that's a prodigy for you," he said, practically
beaming. "Talented and ambitious. You're my new favorite."
I frowned, a sour taste in my mouth. "Speedy?" What a cringe hero name. He wasn't
even using his real name. I didn't hide my expression, and his gaze, sharp and cold,
found me for a split second before returning to the class. He didn't like it.
"Alright, everyone," the teacher chirped, oblivious. "Please fill out your career forms
before the class ends."
I picked up the form, a blank sheet with a hundred empty possibilities. I stared at
the section that asked what I wanted to do with my life. A doctor? A lawyer? A hero?
I sighed, placing the pen down. My grandmother's dream was a world away from my
reality.
Breaktime was a loud, chaotic affair. I stayed at my desk, minding my own business,
scrolling through my phone and staring out the window. Meanwhile, Speedy was at
the center of a mob, girls fawning over him and guys overwhelming him with
questions.
"What's it like in America? Which hero academy are you going to apply for? What's
your ability?"
Speedy laughed, holding his hands up. "Whoa, one question at a time please, easy."
He scanned the room, his eyes landing on me. "Hey," he said, gesturing with his chin.
"What's the guy at the back's name, and why is he so gloomy?"
Silence. The entire classroom went quiet. A girl leaned in and whispered to him.
"Please don't talk about him, or you'll be cursed."
"Cursed how?" Speedy asked, a smirk playing on his lips.
"He's the freak," the girl whispered. "The one without powers. Anyone that goes
near him ends up either missing or badly hurt."
I heard every word. The old lie my parents had created about me being dead had
morphed into something new. A boogeyman story to keep people away. A way to
reinforce my isolation.
I stood up, pushing my chair back with a scrape. "What a load of bullshit," I
mumbled, loud enough for them all to hear. Without looking back, I headed for the
door, my destination the one place I could be alone: the rooftop.
"Excuse me, guys, I'm going to the bathroom for a minute," Speedy said, his voice
calm, yet with an edge I hadn't heard before. He followed me out of the classroom.
I reached the rooftop, the fresh air a welcome relief. The sun was warm, but I felt a
cold presence behind me.
"That wasn't nice what you said to your classmates," Speedy said, his voice low.
I turned to face him, my hands in my pockets. "Playing the hero now? First day in
and you're already playing the hero. What can I say? Expected."
"I advise you to go and apologize to your classmates," he said, his smirk back.
"And if I don't?" I shot back, my voice laced with a bitter cynicism. "Are you going to
beat the shit out of me until I apologize?"
I turned to leave, walking past him. As I did, a gust of wind ruffled my hair, and he
appeared in front of me in the blink of an eye, blocking the door. My heart
hammered in my chest.
"Yes," he said, his voice a low hiss. "I'm going to beat you to a pulp "What did you say?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.
My vision blurred as he moved. It was a flash of motion, an invisible force hitting me
again and again. A kick to the stomach, a punch to the jaw, a strike to the back of my
head. I stumbled, unable to see him, unable to even brace myself. He was
everywhere at once, a cruel wind, a blur of motion. I coughed up blood, my body
feeling like it was being shattered from the inside out. My head slammed against the
concrete wall, and I felt the world begin to swim. Just before I completely lost
consciousness, he stopped.
I fell to my knees, gasping for air, and saw him standing above me, a disappointed
look on his face.
"You see, I didn't come here as an exchange student," he said, the words slurring in
my fading hearing. "I was exiled because I caused so much trouble for scrawny kids
like you with inferior powers. I even killed one of them. But you... you don't even
have powers. You'll be the perfect punching bag."
He laughed, a cold, empty sound. "Punching bag is an overstatement. You'll be my
plaything from now on. Call me master."
My phone in my pocket buzzed. It was Grandma. I tried to reach for it, a single,
desperate thought in my mind. Help.
But before I could even get my hand to my pocket, a foot came down on me,
stomping on the device. I heard the sickening crunch of the screen and the plastic
shattering. Then, everything went black.