Disgusting.

All these thoughtless sheep, listening to their teacher’s words with their brains turned off, never questioning those statements. They believed so blindly in that balding man’s words, even though they’ve never experienced those experiments themselves. How pedantic. If they were planning on studying, they should at least try harder.

But those lobotomized pigs were worse. So drenched in society’s filth that they couldn’t relinquish their phones for the duration of a school day. They tapped away, crying pitifully for acknowledgement in the shallow depths of the Twittersphere. Did they think they were unseen in the back of the room? The teacher was simply a coward, too lenient to face down students.

The boy with steel-blue hair turned away from the ugly scene, his eyes smouldering through the curtains of the room. It pissed him off, people who didn’t truly pursue academics and those who used social media with no purpose.

He breathed, slowly, lavender eyes darkening. He was the same, but at the very least…

“Sorry, sensei, my stomach’s hurting, so I’ll be heading to the nurse’s office.”

…he’ll remove himself due to those sentiments.

A lie that the balding man wouldn’t believe, but one that he wouldn’t oppose. As the youth left the classroom, he could feel tension dissipate from the classroom’s atmosphere, and he smiled thinly.

Of course they would relax.

Because in the eyes of society, he was scum that should just die in some dark alley.

Flame-colored leaves crunched beneath his feet as he walked back home. The chilling breeze felt good, and he must have skipped school at a good time, because the streets were empty of people. If it was like this, he could pretend that he was the only person in the world.

Ah, how relaxing.

Human greed was still bringing the world to its end, and the UV rays he was exposed to will increase the chances of him developing cancer, but, for the time being, it was nice to just stretch his arms out and let out a shameless yawn.

But perhaps he had relaxed too early.

After all, there was still trash on the streets.

“Oi, Hiraku, finally found you!” A bold declaration from someone who was hiding in the alleyway like a stray cat a moment ago.

A fellow truant strode out boldly, flanked by his friends. He had a crew cut and his chin was tilted upwards, as if he was trying to look down on the blue-haired boy. Trying, and failing.

Hiraku smirked, walking forwards until the height difference between him and the delinquent was clear as day. “Maybe you should wear some heels next time you do that, Daiki-chan?”

An instant effect. The thick-skulled Daiki snarled, beady eyes lighting with anger. “Watch your mouth, bastard. Don’t think y-”

Before Daiki could finish his threat, a fist slammed into his nose. Blood squirted from the sides, and he stumbled back, only to topple over as a foot smashed into the side of his knee. With a thump, the delinquent fell on his ass.

Hiraku pounced after that sweeping kick, launching himself onto the stockier boy. Daiki’s back struck the asphalt, knocking the air out of him.

For a single moment, the blue-haired boy restrained himself.

Not the eyes. Not the throat. Not the solar plexus.

A soundless roar was made as he pummelled Daiki viciously, adrenaline numbing his pain as his fists struck hard muscle and bone. It was a display of violence, of dominance that was so brutal that the lackeys Daiki brought were rooted in place by fear of this wanton ferocity.

It was an exchange that only lasted thirty seconds, and Hiraku hadn’t even taken off his backpack during all this. Pushing himself off the whipped dog, he shook loose his hands, a series of uncomforting cracks sounding from his red knuckles.

The blue-haired boy breathed erratically, panting for air even as he glared at the other two, daring them to do anything.

“What was that, Daiki?” he asked, mockingly, “Thought I couldn’t do this because you brought your…what, friends, underlings over?”

No answer. Maybe he went too far proving a point this time.

As the ecstasy faded away, Hiraku calmed down, his own pains sharpening. It was pathetic, how far he had fallen as ‘rational’ human being, but that didn’t change how great it felt. After all, physical activity generated endorphins, and endorphins generated happiness.

There was still no verbal response from the trio, so he left, a spring in his step and a smile on his face.

“Uwah, how scary~”

Hiraku whipped around suddenly, searching for that voice that had been so close behind him. It had been female, spritely and unconcerned, but the source, where was it?

An autumnal breeze swept through the streets. His imagination, perhaps.

He unclenched his fists, disappointed.

Five hundred meters away, standing precariously on top of a telephone pole, a girl pouted.

“Boo, so he’s not a superhuman after all.”

In the end, no other detours were made. He had hoped for another event out of the ordinary, like a girl appearing after he beat up Daiki, revealing that she was their boss, and then engaging him in mortal combat. Or inviting him to an underground fighting ring that crowned the strongest high school fist fighter. Or deciding that he was the hero that the town needed, and granting him all the equipment he needed to fight villains.

But those were merely fantasies, and he was inside his drab apartment suite before he knew it. The tatami mats felt nice against his back, and Hiraku looked up towards the creamy ceiling.

He had chosen to go to this high school specifically because he could live away from his parents. It was so that he could learn to become more independent, but the garbage bags full of convenience store bentos spoke of a different story.

Laziness was poisonous.

But motivation was something gained from having purpose.

And this was a shitty, boring, shallow, dying world that he couldn’t find any purpose in.

Ah, what a pain.

He rolled onto his side, towards an aged bookshelf, bending under the weight of its contents. Fantasies that he could be moved by. Mysteries that he could chew on. Science fiction that could expand his mind. Worlds that were far removed from the boring one that he lived in right now.

Slowly, he stood up. He was hungry, and it was past lunch now, but Hiraku didn’t quite feel like eating yet. Pulling out a slim, worn-out novella, he propped an elbow against his table, running his fingers over the faded cover. He’ll kill time for a while longer.

“Wow, what a surprise! I didn’t know the delinquent was a bookworm!”

The same voice as before, but now, as Hiraku turned around, he could clearly see the owner of that voice.

On the open patio, a girl that could be described more graceful than beautiful waved. Her dark-brown hair was pinned upwards in a folded ponytail, cherry blossom petals laced with it. She hopped into the room without a sound, her black sailor uniform modified to look more like that of a performer’s than anything else.

As if it was a costume, not a uniform.

Hiraku stood up, placing his book down onto the table. His muscles were tense, but she was slender and short. Unless she pulled out a gun, he could probably take care of this home invader.

“Oh geez,” she laughed, golden eyes sparkling, “No need to be so defensive, Himura-kun~”

He glared. “How do you know my name?”

“The nameplate on your room, obviously!”

“…tch.”

Light as air, the cherry blossom girl hopped from where she stood to the low-lying table, pirouetting elegantly as she landed. Her short skirt lifted up just high enough to confirm that there was no reason to sneak a peek under it. She wore shorts, after all.

“Anyways, don’t worry, I’m not here to take revenge or blackmail you. Just a question, is all~”

For once, someone who was his age or younger was looking down on him. She was even smirking due to this, and, despite himself, Hiraku was hoping that the table would collapse from her weight and send her falling down.

“Sure, go shoot.”

The girl smiled wider, and a cold draft poured in, caressing her uneven bangs.

“So, Himura-kun…”

An electric tingle shot up his spine.

“…do you wish for a new world?”