Would it kill you to believe?
I asked myself that.
People in this world are born normal, or at least they were so when they're born. At a certain point in their lives, generally 15-18 years old. They awaken a unique ability to them called a "spec".
They're not the same as superpowers, even though they sort of are. But unlike superpowers, specs aren't something overly destructive like giving you the capability to destroy buildings. No. Those specs are rare, they're usually categorized by five distinct types:
Causal and fate
Perceptive, Intuitive, manipulative, and analytical
Physiological
Relational
Political
Dominion
These specs can affect one's behavioral pattern, or mirror their personality.
If so, why do I question if I'm normal or not? That's because...
I received my spec at 9 years old, which has never been documented before. My spec, was named "Crazy pull". At first we assumed it was a physiological spec, but no; it wasn't, for the next nine years of my life I lived without knowing what my spec does.
The noise in my head abruptly ceased, as if someone had severed a wire. The sudden silence left me suspended in place, staring at nothing.
"Ken."
I didn't respond.
A hand clasped my wrist and tugged. The world lurched back into motion as Hiro pulled me toward the train doors.
"What are you standing there for?" he asked, half-laughing, half-breathless. "You look like you've seen a ghost. C'mon—we're going to be late for university."
The train's chime rang out, sharp and urgent. I blinked, the haze thinning, and allowed myself to be dragged aboard—though the silence in my head lingered, heavy and unnatural.
This is my life, I'm Kento Sakayanagi.
"Oh—right. Sorry, Hiro."
My voice felt distant, like it belonged to someone walking a few steps behind me. He shot me a quick, suspicious glance but didn't press the issue. Instead, he grabbed my sleeve and steered us through the closing train doors just before they slid shut with a metallic sigh.
The train lurched forward. Around us, commuters swayed in practiced rhythm—phones in hand, faces blank, conversations overlapping in a low mechanical hum. I kept my gaze on the window, watching the city smear into streaks of gray and light.
When we finally disembarked, the station greeted us with its usual chaos. Shoes clattered against tile. Announcements echoed overhead, distorted and urgent. Hiro moved with purpose, weaving through the crowd like he'd memorized its currents, and I followed in his wake.
By the time the university gates came into view, rising tall and familiar against the morning sky, my earlier haze had dulled—but not disappeared. We hurried through the halls, the scent of paper and polished floors wrapping around us as students streamed past in clusters of laughter and last-minute panic.
Hiro exhaled sharply. "See? Not late."
I managed a nod.
But even as we stepped into the university corridor, I couldn't shake the feeling that something had followed me out of that silence—and into the day.
I made sure to keep my presence scarce as I scanned my area, eyeing left and right.
The day flew like a plane, curriculum after curriculum. The classes felt worthless, I peeked out the window with anticipating hope, but it was a futile attempt of self-justification.
"After all... I am unforgiveable."
The walk back to my apartment felt like slipping into a rehearsed dream.
Same train. Same overhead announcements warbling through tired speakers. Same stretch of road bathed in the dull orange of evening lamps. My life moved along rails—predictable, mechanical, safe.
Hiro wasn't beside me this time. No chatter. No tugging at my sleeve. Just the steady rhythm of the train and the hollow quiet in my head.
That was when I saw her.
Not fully—just a flicker at the edge of my vision. A presence that didn't belong to the monotony.
I looked again.
She stood a few feet away, hands folded loosely in front of her, as if she had always been there. Her hair is pale while, almost like her skin. It framed a pair of calm gray eyes that revealed nothing. Not curiosity. Not boredom. Not even awareness.
She was quiet in a way that bent the space around her. The kind of person you could overlook in a crowd—if not for the fact that she was the most stunning woman I had ever laid eyes on.
The train began to slow.
She stepped toward the doors.
My stop.
The chime rang. The doors slid open with a mechanical sigh.
She stepped off.
So did I.
The platform air felt colder than it should have. For a moment, I convinced myself it was coincidence—just another passenger with the same destination.
Then she turned her head.
Her gray eyes met mine.
Unreadable. Steady. Almost expectant.
My heartbeat stumbled. My mind, so good at rehearsing routines, offered nothing. No script. No instinct.
I didn't know what to do.
I forced a slow breath through my lungs, willing my pulse to steady.
Don't stare. Don't be weird. Just walk.
She moved ahead of me, unhurried, her steps light against the concrete platform. I told myself I was only heading the same direction. That it was coincidence. That I wasn't following her.
I was absolutely following her.
Before I could reconsider, I closed the distance between us. My face strained into what I hoped resembled a natural smile. It felt more like a glitch.
She slowed.
Then—without turning fully—she glanced at me from the corner of her eye.
Sharp. Measuring.
Crap. She saw.
The word echoed in my skull like a siren.
Every survival instinct told me to abort. Apologize. Pretend I'd mistaken her for someone else. Move to another city.
Instead, I stopped beside her.
"Uhm… uh…" My voice nearly betrayed me, but I steadied it. "It's just that—you seem really cute. I was wondering… could you tell me your name?"
The silence that followed stretched thin and fragile.
Her gray eyes shifted to meet mine fully this time—calm, unreadable, as if she were weighing something far more significant than a simple question.
And I suddenly had the terrifying feeling that... I just placed myself in the most precarious of situations.
Disclaimer: Yes, this has been MASSIVELY improved by AI since my vocabulary is absolutely dogshit. Also I'm just doing this for fun, and the story is completely me but it just gets proofread by AI. It's not like anybody would mind a 15 year old's work lol.