𝗙𝗜𝗥𝗦𝗧 𝗦𝗖𝗘𝗡𝗘 - 𝗛𝗔𝗞𝗨𝗔-𝗡𝗢-𝗦𝗔𝗧𝗢
𝗦𝗘𝗜𝗥𝗔𝗡 𝗔𝗖𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗠𝗬 𝗢𝗙 𝗔𝗥𝗧𝗦
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Three of them.
Three figures walking down the school hallway—like they had stepped straight out of a magazine spread, their presence turning the ordinary corridor into something closer to a runway. The soft hum of student chatter dipped into whispers as heads turned, eyes following.
Itsuki noticed it first, of course. He always did. With an easy smile, he lifted his hand in small waves here and there, acknowledging the stares like it was second nature.
Shiharu, on the other hand, had both hands buried deep in his pockets, shoulders slightly tense. If it were up to him, he'd disappear from the scene entirely.
And Hiroshi… he walked like none of it existed. Hands resting behind his head, posture relaxed, gaze unfocused—as if the attention of half the school meant absolutely nothing.
Lunch break.
Normally, Shiharu would skip it. Either that, or quietly eat something he brought from home, alone and unnoticed. But things weren't the same anymore.
The student council had their own private dining space.
And now… he was part of that "we."
Ahead of them—
The masked boy walked at the front, silent as ever. Beside him, Aimi and Yurina moved with composed elegance, their presence alone enough to keep others at a distance.
Behind them—
Shiharu walked alongside Taehyun and Hiroshi.
Further back, Suzumi flipped through the pages of a thick novel, completely absorbed, while Itsuki leaned toward her, animatedly talking—something about scientists and fantasy theories blending together.
At the very end, Jaehyun and Minhyun trailed behind, their voices low, almost lost beneath the rhythm of footsteps echoing against polished floors.
They were just students.
So why did it feel like this?
The space around them felt… separated. Like an invisible line had been drawn between them and everyone else. Special treatment. Privileges. Attention.
It made sense.
They were different.
…But him?
Shiharu's gaze shifted slightly, catching glimpses of curious eyes peeking from classroom doors, whispers trailing behind them like shadows.
No abilities. No power.
Nothing.
So why was he here?
The discomfort settled deeper in his chest.
"…Tae," he spoke, breaking the quiet between them. "Didn't you say you could see moments into the future?"
Taehyun glanced at him, brows lifting slightly.
"Then… shouldn't you have seen what happened last time? And stopped it?"
Hiroshi's crimson eyes shifted toward them, interest flickering for the first time.
Taehyun let out a small, awkward laugh, scratching the back of his neck.
"I can see the future, yeah—but only bits of it. Moments that are close… a few minutes ahead, at most." His tone turned more matter-of-fact. "If I had still been at school after dismissal, maybe I would've caught it."
He exhaled lightly.
"But I wasn't. I was already home. And that incident…" his gaze dropped briefly, "happened about forty minutes after dismissal."
A small silence followed.
"That's still pretty cool, though," Shiharu muttered.
"There's nothing cool about having powers."
Hiroshi's voice cut in—calm, but firm.
Shiharu looked at him.
"What makes you think that?"
Hiroshi's expression didn't change.
"It's obvious," he said. "The moment people know what you can do, they start depending on you. In danger, in fear… they look to you to save them."
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"And if you can't?"
A faint pause.
"That guilt doesn't go away."
"…He's not wrong," Taehyun added quietly.
From behind them, Suzumi's voice floated in, almost dreamlike.
"I think the coolest power… would be immortality."
She didn't even look up from her book as she spoke, turning a page with quiet interest.
"Immortality?" Hiroshi echoed.
"Yeah," Suzumi continued, her tone thoughtful. "Living forever… watching time pass without ever fading."
Itsuki was full of smiles.
"Or maybe a power like what the vice principal mentioned before, remember?"
Shiharu glanced back slightly.
"What kind of power?"
But before an answer could come—
They stopped.
Their destination.
The room was smaller than expected—but not in a simple way.
It carried the quiet authority of a space reserved for those above ordinary students. Teachers. The vice principal. The principal and other higher authorities. A place where voices were meant to stay low and movements refined.
Their section was set toward the eastern side.
Soft light filtered through shoji-style windows, casting a gentle glow over a long table prepared for ten.
And the table…
It was excessive.
Neatly arranged trays sat before each seat, each one almost too perfect to touch. Bowls of steaming white rice, glossy slices of grilled salmon, tamagoyaki cut into delicate squares, miso soup with drifting tofu cubes, and small plates of tsukemono arranged like tiny works of art.
Beside them were light snacks—onigiri wrapped in crisp nori, dorayaki filled with sweet red bean paste, and skewers of dango glazed lightly with syrup.
Drinks were set just as carefully—cold barley tea, bottles of ramune with their glass marbles catching the light, and small cartons of milk placed neatly beside lacquered trays.
Everything looked… curated.
Like something out of an old noble household.
Or a fantasy story.
Shiharu stared at it for a second too long.
Isn't this… a bit much?
Eating like this every day—how did they expect anyone to finish all of it?
Chairs shifted softly.
The masked boy, Yurina, and Aimi took the first three seats to the left without a word.
Itsuki, ever the gentleman, pulled out a chair for Suzumi with a small flourish. She gave a quiet "thank you," setting her book aside carefully before sitting. Itsuki smiled brightly before taking his own seat beside her.
Hiroshi dropped into his chair casually, leaning back slightly, while Shiharu sat beside him.
The triplets followed, filling in the remaining seats.
A quiet stillness settled over the table.
Before a soft sound was heard.
The masked boy moved.
Slowly, he reached up and removed his mask, placing it neatly beside him.
For a brief moment, time seemed to hesitate.
His fingers brushed through long strands of long caramel coloured hair as he lifted his head.
And smiled.
It wasn't just a handsome face.
It was the kind that held you in place—the kind people stared at without realizing how much time had passed. Sharp features, flawless in a way that didn't feel entirely human. His black eyes were deep, captivating—
And empty.
No warmth.
No kindness.
Just something… unsettling.
Good looking, but wrong.
Shiharu's hand froze mid-air.
The chopsticks slipped from his fingers, clattering softly against the tray.
"…You—!"
His voice caught.
He pointed instinctively—then hesitated, slowly pulling his hand back.
I know him.
The thought came too fast.
Too sharp.
I know him… don't I?
But—
From where?
Fragments flickered in his mind like broken glass.
Disconnected. Unclear.
Unreachable.
Why can't I remember?
His brows furrowed slightly.
It's like… my memory is scattered.
No matter how much I try, I can't piece it together.
A dull ache throbbed behind his eyes.
If he pushed any further—
He knew.
It would only get worse.
"…Forget it," he murmured to himself, exhaling quietly. "I'm hungry."
Across the table—
The boy watched him.
Silently.
His gaze sharpened, locking onto Shiharu with an intensity that didn't match his calm exterior.
Why…?
A thought flickered behind those dark eyes.
Why does it feel like he recognizes me?
His fingers curled slightly against the table.
My powers should be working.
They always work.
A faint crease formed between his brows.
So why…
Why isn't he completely forgetting?
The boy's smile remained—but his thoughts shifted, darker.
If altering his memories isn't enough…
Should I erase them entirely?
No.
Not yet.
His gaze softened just slightly, though the edge never disappeared.
I'll watch him a little longer.
If he remembers anything… even a fragment…
I'll deal with it then.
For now… I'll play along.
I have worked hard for this so i can't have everything i have built so far go down to drain.
Itsuki's voice broke through the tension, light and casual.
"Right—you haven't seen his face without the mask before, have you?" he said, dabbing his mouth neatly with a napkin. "Well, that's him. The leader of the council."
He tilted his head slightly, studying Shiharu with curiosity.
"You looked like you recognized him. Do you?"
Shiharu's eyes shifted back to the boy.
For a brief moment—
Their gazes met.
And the boy smiled again.
This time—
It felt different.
Sharper.
Possessive in a rather mysterious way.
Unsettling in a way that made Shiharu's chest tighten.
He looked away almost immediately, reaching for his chopsticks again as if nothing had happened.
"…I don't remember knowing him," he said quietly.
Across the table—
The boy's smile lingered.
But his eyes didn't.