The town of Shinhidaka was quiet. Moderate. A place suspended between joy and despair. Its people weren't happy, nor were they particularly miserable. They just… existed. An average town by every metric. Unremarkable.
And within this average town stood a school—one with a long, storied history. A history that, in truth, amounted to little more than the collective suffering of its students. Negligent teachers. Rampant delinquency. A breeding ground for the worst kinds of apathy and violence.
It was the bottom of the barrel.
It was An Xiao's school.
Year 1, Class B. The classroom buzzed with chatter. Lunch break had begun, and the usual chaos unfolded like clockwork. Shegio Urmu sat among his clique of petty tyrants, their nerves from earlier soothed by the mundane rhythm of the day. No police. No consequences. Business as usual.
"Who's that?" one of them asked, squinting out the window.
The voice came from a stereotypical delinquent—bleached blond hair, a few poorly done piercings, and a tattoo inked too young. He pointed toward the open field outside the school.
A boy was walking toward the building. His pace was calm. Measured. Confident. He moved like clockwork—precise, mechanical. His black hair was unkempt, his eyes a deep, unremarkable brown. His face was nothing but average.
Yet Shegio recognized him instantly.
An Xiao.
"What the hell… how?" Shegio muttered, eyes wide. "He—he died. We killed him. We killed him! How the hell is he walking around in broad daylight?!"
He stood up, trembling. The gang with him—all branded with the same tattoo: a burning wheel with an eye at its center—stood too. And then they ran. Down the hallway, across clean, sterile school corridors that suddenly felt claustrophobic.
Step.
Step. Step.
Their footsteps echoed—and then, so did another set. Footfalls from the stairwell. Deliberate. Heavy.
They rounded the corner—
And there he stood.
In the middle of the staircases leading to the rooftop.
Xiao.
His eyes were hollow. Not nervous. Not angry. Just... void. He stood still like a statue, the air around him sharp, predatory. He looked at them—through them—with a killer's calm. The murk in his stare was unreadable. Deep. Ancient.
He turned slowly.
And gestured for them to follow.
They did.
One step.
Then another.
BAM.
A sickening thud rang out. One of the gang members—a hulking brute who resembled a gorilla more than a boy—went down like a sack of meat. Xiao had drop-kicked him clean across the stairwell. The crack of skull against tile was wet, dull. The once-polished green floor now streaked faint red.
Blood.
The youth twitched once. Then went still.
A fox-eyed teen lunged at Xiao in retaliation, a wild kick aimed at his ribs—but Xiao shifted. Effortlessly. He slammed a shoulder into the boy's groin.
The teen dropped like a stone, eyes rolling back. He writhed on the floor, clutching himself, unable to scream through the agony.
Only Shegio remained.
He froze. Hands clammy. Legs shaking.
Xiao climbed the steps slowly. Step by step.
Shegio flinched, stumbled back. He tripped, landing hard on his backside. Then Xiao's hand was on him—slender, cold, but rough with calluses. He grabbed a fistful of Shegio's hair and pulled.
"Ow! Ow! Ow!" Shegio screamed as he was dragged up the steps, skin scraping against tile and then asphalt as Xiao yanked him across the rooftop floor. Bits of gravel dug into his back, tearing his uniform.
Xiao stood at the edge, holding Shegio's head up—forcing him to look out over the school courtyard.
"What the hell are those?" Xiao asked.
"What?" Shegio stammered. "Those? Those are just buildings—what do you mean? Please, please don't hurt me—"
"No," Xiao growled. His voice darkened. "Those. The small, warped things flying in the sky. Those… things. Don't you see them?!"
Shegio blinked, sweat dripping. He saw nothing.
"This guy's fucking crazy," he thought—but didn't dare say it aloud.
"S-sorry! I—I don't see anything! I don't know what you're talking about!"
Xiao let out a low sigh. "Tch. Futuo." His tone dripped with disdain. "Alright. Listen to me, and listen well—you Cunnus."
His grip tightened.
"Who the hell do you think you are, trying to kill me? Threatening my life? Huh?" He leaned in, eyes like twin voids. "If you so much as think about laying an ill-fated finger on me again—I'll carve open your skin and feed your insides to the crows."
His voice was calm. Flat. Not angry—true anger didn't need to yell.
Just terrifying.
And Shegio finally broke.