My name is Inuzuka Kyotaru. I am seventeen years old, a second-year student at Hanagawa High, and if there is a God, I would very much like to kick Him in the shins.
I'm not a hero. I'm not a chosen one. I'm just a guy who wants to live a life so ordinary it would put a cardboard box to shame. But apparently, that's asking too much from the celestial powers that govern this trash-heap of a reality. You see, I have what scientists might call statistically impossible misfortune, but what I call 'the Universe being a petty, school-yard bully.'
Let's take this morning, for instance.
I woke up and reached for my alarm clock. It didn't beep—it exploded. Not a 'fire and shrapnel' explosion, mind you—just a pathetic pop that sent a single, jagged spring flying directly into my open mouth. I spent ten minutes coughing up clock-parts while my toast burned. Both pieces. Even though I only put one in. Don't ask me how, the second piece was a crust I'd thrown away yesterday that somehow manifested back in the toaster just to spite me.
"Inuzuka-kun! Good morning!"
That voice. The only thing in this world that doesn't feel like it's trying to assassinate me.
Standing at the school gate was Yuko Yoshino.
She is, for lack of a better word, a Saint. Long, flowing black hair that smells like expensive shampoo and lilies—eyes that sparkle with a kindness that should be illegal in a public setting—and a smile that makes you forget that a bird just crapped on your shoulder. Which, by the way, it just did.
"Morning, Yuko," I muttered, wiping my shoulder with a tissue that immediately tore, smearing the bird-gift further into my uniform.
"Oh dear! Here, let me help!" Yuko chirped. She reached out with a wet wipe, scrubbing my shoulder with such 'kind' vigor that I felt my collarbone begin to crack. "There! Good as new! Although, Inuzuka-kun, you really should stop attracting wildlife in such... creative ways."
"I don't 'attract' it, Yuko. It's a targeted strike."
Yuko has been my childhood friend since we were five. She's the person who stayed by me when I got stuck in a chimney during a game of hide-and-seek. She's the one who held my hand when I was hospitalized after being struck by a meteor—the only meteor to hit Japan in a decade, mind you, and it landed squarely on my left buttock.
I love her. I've loved her since middle school. And today, despite the fact that a stray dog was currently chewing on my shoelaces, I was going to confess.
---
The plan was simple. During lunch, I would take her behind the gymnasium. I had a letter. A beautiful, handwritten letter. I had spent three nights writing it, mostly because the first two versions were struck by lightning while I sat at my desk (inside the house!).
"Yuko," I said, my voice trembling as we stood in the shadow of the gym.
"Yes, Inuzuka-kun?" She tilted her head. She looked so pure. So innocent. I felt like a scumbag just for having hormones in her general vicinity.
"I... I've wanted to tell you this for a long time." I reached into my pocket for the letter. "The truth is, I—"
BOOM.
A gas canister in the chemistry lab three buildings away chose that exact second to undergo a 'spontaneous thermal event.' The shockwave shattered every window in the gym. Glass rained down.
"I—!" I tried again, shielding my head.
Suddenly, a stray cat—which had apparently been launched by the explosion—flew through the air and latched onto my face with all twenty claws.
"Mmph! Mmmph-looo-shoo!" I screamed through the fur.
"Inuzuka-kun? Are you okay? Are you trying to say you love cats?" Yuko asked, her eyes wide with concern as she watched me wrestle the feline demon off my nose.
I threw the cat into a nearby bush. I was bleeding from six different places. My tie was shredded. My dignity was a smoldering ruin. But I wouldn't stop.
"Yuko! Listen to me! I—!"
A sudden, localized earthquake—measuring exactly 1.2 on the Richter scale and affecting only the three-square-foot patch of dirt I was standing on—opened a small fissure. My left foot fell in. I tripped, lunging forward, and my face landed directly in a puddle that had appeared out of nowhere despite it being a sunny day.
I stood up, dripping with muddy water. I pulled out the letter. It was a soggy, brown lump of pulp.
"Inuzuka-kun... maybe we should go to the infirmary?" Yuko suggested softly.
"No!" I shouted, my voice cracking. "I don't need the infirmary! I need to say this! Yuko! I love—!"
I didn't get to finish. Because at that moment, a passing helicopter belonging to the local news dropped a heavy camera lens. It didn't hit me. It hit a nearby trash can, which flipped into the air, performed a perfect 360-degree rotation, and landed over my head like a helmet.
Inside the darkness of the trash can, I wept.
"Inuzuka-kun?" Yuko's voice came through the plastic. "Are you... are you trying to tell me you want to be a garbage collector? Because I think you should follow your dreams, but maybe finish high school first?"
I ripped the trash can off my head. "No! I love you! Yuko, I love you!"
Silence.
The universe finally went quiet. No explosions. No cats. No falling debris. The wind whistled softly through the trees. Yuko blinked. Her kind, saintly smile didn't falter, but her eyes softened into a look that was far worse than an explosion. It was the look you give a three-legged dog that's trying to run a marathon.
"Oh, Inuzuka-kun," she said, her voice as sweet as honey-coated poison. "That's so sweet. I love you too! You're my absolute best, most precious friend. I couldn't imagine my life without a friend as funny and unlucky as you. You're like... a brother. Or a very entertaining pet!"
Crack.
That wasn't the sound of an earthquake. That was my soul snapping in half.
"Friend?" I whispered.
"The bestest!" she beamed, patting my mud-caked cheek. "Now, let's get you cleaned up. You have a piece of a sardine in your hair."
---
I walked home in a trance.
Rejected. Friend-zoned. Pet-zoned.
The sky started to gray. It wasn't supposed to rain today, but of course, a single, dark cloud followed me specifically, drizzling cold water only on my head. I was a walking tragedy. I was a trash protagonist in a world that clearly wanted me to delete my save file.
"Why me?" I asked the cloud. The cloud responded by dropping a small hailstone into my left eye.
I reached the intersection near the shopping district. My vision was blurry from the eye-trauma and the tears of a rejected man. That's when I saw her.
A girl was standing in the middle of the crosswalk. She had long, shimmering silver hair that looked like moonlight spun into silk. She wore a traditional, high-collared dress that looked entirely too expensive for this neighborhood. She was staring at a map, looking utterly lost and adorably confused.
And then, I heard it.
The roar of an engine.
A massive, black truck—the legendary 'Truck-kun' of every portal-fantasy story—was barreling down the road. The driver appeared to be asleep, or perhaps he was having a heart attack, or maybe he was just a manifestation of the Universe's hatred for life. He wasn't stopping.
The silver-haired girl didn't see it. She was too busy turning the map upside down.
"Hey! Look out!" I yelled.
Normally, I would mind my own business. My bad luck usually dictates that if I try to help, I end up in a body cast. But I was already at rock bottom. What was the truck going to do? Kill me? Please. That would be a promotion.
I lunged.
I didn't do a cool, athletic dive. I stumbled over a loose paving stone, which launched me forward like a clumsy human cannonball. I slammed into the girl, my shoulder hitting her waist, and we both tumbled across the asphalt just as the truck roared past.
The truck hit a fire hydrant, which exploded, drenching us both in a localized monsoon.
I lay there on the wet pavement, my chest heaving, the silver-haired girl pinned beneath me. For a moment, it was like a scene from a high-budget romance anime. The water droplets flying, the dramatic lighting, the proximity...
Then I realized I was crushing her ribs and my knee was in a very awkward place.
"Ow..." I groaned, rolling off her. "Are you... are you alive?"
The girl sat up. Her silver hair was plastered to her face. She looked like a drowned kitten. She blinked at me, her violet eyes wide with a mix of terror and something else—something intense.
"You..." she whispered. Her voice was like bells, if bells were currently having a panic attack.
"Yeah, me. The idiot who fell on you. Sorry about that," I said, rubbing my sore back. "But you almost got turned into a pancake."
Meanwhile, Across the street, a familiar figure. Yuko was standing there, holding a grocery bag. She had seen the whole thing. Her Saint smile was gone. Her jaw was hanging open, and her grip on the grocery bag was so tight the plastic was screaming.
The silver-haired girl grabbed my hand. Her grip was surprisingly strong.
"My name is Amilia," she said, her face turning a deep shade of crimson. "I am of the Shindou-Ainsworth bloodline. Our traditions are ancient. Our laws are absolute."
"Uh... okay? Do you need a doctor? You're talking a bit weird," I said, trying to pull my hand back.
She didn't let go. She leaned in, her face inches from mine, her silver hair dripping onto my nose.
"Our law states..." she swallowed hard, her voice trembling with shyness but fueled by a terrifying resolve. "The man who saves a daughter of the Silver Moon from the jaws of death... he has claimed her life. According to my family tradition, you are now my destined lover. I... I belong to you."
The world stopped.
A bird flew overhead and, in a final act of cosmic irony, dropped a feather that landed perfectly between us.
"HEEEEHH?!" I screamed.
I looked at Amilia, who was looking at me like I was her entire world. And Yuko, who looked like she was about to drop-kick the both of us into the sun.
I, Inuzuka Kyotaru, the unluckiest boy in the world, had just been rejected by my crush and claimed by a silver-haired fanatic in the span of ten minutes.
God, if you're listening... I'm definitely kicking you in the shins.