Chapter 2.

I wake up before dawn, as I do every day. While my roommate continues to snore loudly, I rise stealthily and begin my morning routine.

I perform a series of physical exercises to energize my body and mind. Push-ups, squats, arm curls. Although I am lean, years of training have developed firm, tight muscles. My strength and endurance are well above average.

The sun is just a hint on the horizon when I finish, bathing me in its weak golden light. Tatsuya remains lost in the world of dreams, oblivious to the dawn of a new day. I allow myself a slight smile of satisfaction seeing him so vulnerable. I could eliminate him right now without resistance. But no. It’s not time yet.

After meticulously grooming myself, I dress in absolute silence, adjusting every insignificant detail of my uniform perfectly before assuming the invisible mask that hides my true self. The entire process takes me exactly 3 minutes and 47 seconds, not a second more. Efficiency is essential in all that I do.

Finally, I stop in front of the mirror for a moment, as I do every day. I’m not sure why I do it; it’s just another ingrained habit. Perhaps it’s a primitive and vain impulse to seek some hint of recognition in that reflection. But as always, looking at my face is like encountering a stranger in a dimly lit alley. Someone whose features you know because you’ve seen them a million times, but whose essence remains painfully foreign. Unfathomable. Alien.

I try to muster a convincing smile, but the muscles of my face, normally so obedient when it’s necessary to spark a semblance of fabricated emotions, now resist. They behave as if numb.

In the presence of others, they can feign joy, surprise, sympathy, lighting up with the false warmth of the emotions they imitate. But here, in privacy, there’s no warmth to persuade them. The mask fades, incapable of deceiving itself about the void hiding behind it.

Those eyes, are they really mine? I lose myself in their gaze, but there is no depth, no soul. They are like pools after a sour rain, reflecting nothing beyond their own superficial existence. I miss the sparkle, some sign of passion or at least of life. But no, there’s a disconnect, an absence that unsettles me.

It’s like the constant buzz of a mosquito, whose bites are too minor to worry about at first. But with each new day, with every new look in the mirror, the bites accumulate, until irritation becomes a relentless scratch in my mind. An annoyance that I cannot ignore.

Eventually, I abandon the futile effort with a shrug. Just then, Tatsuya’s alarm blares loudly, making him jump. He curses under his breath and slams the alarm off. Then he looks at me bleary-eyed and mutters:

“Makoto? You’re already ready? Man, you’re like a robot, never late, huh?”

I flash a friendly smile.

“Good morning Tatsuya. Yes, I like to make the most of every minute of the day. Time is precious.”

“Right, right...” Tatsuya yawns as he rubs his eyes. “Hey, I’ll head down for breakfast, see you in 5 minutes, alright? I’m starving.”

I nod and watch him stumble sleepily into the bathroom. Once alone, I allow myself to frown in distaste. The lack of discipline and self-control in most is repulsive. How they squander their lives in mediocrity, oblivious to their potential.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

I head down to the dining room and serve myself a cup of black coffee along with an apple. I ignore the tempting variety of greasy and sugary dishes that my peers gobble up. I don’t need those empty calories distracting my mind.

Tatsuya arrives minutes later, stuffing himself with bacon, sausages, and fried eggs. He grins contentedly, completely unaware of the disdainful glances from some girls at his unrefined manners.

After he finishes his binge, we walk together to the classroom building. Tatsuya greets everyone we pass loudly, especially the girls. He winks and cracks silly jokes to get their attention. They laugh awkwardly, thus feeding his ego.

I stay a step behind, with a serious demeanor and barely responding to greetings with a slight nod. I don’t need that kind of trivial attention.

Upon entering the classroom, Tatsuya quickly takes a seat amid his jock cronies. They exchange ridiculous greetings and talk loudly about their weekend activities, boasting about their “conquests.”

I sit discreetly and strategically in a corner at the back. I place my backpack on the chair next to me to prevent someone from sitting beside me. I’d rather not have to interact too much with these simians if I can avoid it.

Just as the bell rings to start the class, the teacher appears at the door with a worried look. He stumbles in while mumbling:

“Good morning students, sorry for the delay. I had to handle a last-minute urgent matter. But don’t worry, I bring good news,” he says while casting a nervous glance at me.

I narrow my eyes imperceptibly. He’s definitely up to something. And it seems to involve me in some way. Interesting.

“You see, today we’ll be welcoming a new transfer student. He comes from Ouran Middle School in the neighboring city. Please give him a warm welcome and help him feel part of our family,” the teacher continues.

A new student? Curious. And suspicious.

Just then, a diminutive and slouched boy enters the room, with the look of a frightened mouse. His school uniform is a few sizes too big, giving him a disheveled appearance. Behind thick glasses hide nervous eyes scanning the room as if searching for an escape route.

Pathetic. This weakling won’t last a week among the hyenas of this jungle.

“Please introduce yourself to your new classmates,” the teacher encourages him.

The boy swallows and steps forward, wringing his hands.

“Hi, my name is Tsuneo Kamiya. Nice to meet you all,” he stutters with a barely audible voice.

A few snickers spread across the room at such a nerd. I notice Tatsuya and his buddies exchange disdainful glances and crack their knuckles. That kid is an easy target for their hazing.

The teacher clears his throat for silence before continuing.

“Alright, everyone, I hope you all help Tsuneo to quickly integrate with his new peers and surroundings. Remember, we were all new once,” he says in a paternalistic tone.

Then he looks at me and adds:

“Makoto, as class president I’m sure you’ll find a way to make Tsuneo feel welcomed. Right?”

I return a polite smile and nod enthusiastically, though inwardly cursing the old man for putting me in this position.

“Of course, Professor. Tsuneo, make yourself at home. You can sit here if you’d like,” I say, pointing to the empty seat next to me.

Tsuneo looks at me in surprise but quickly accepts the offer.

“T-thank you, you’re very kind,” he stammers as he sits down next to me.

I pat his back in a show of camaraderie. The others roll their eyes impatiently. Clearly, no one likes the idea of incorporating the weird nerd into their groups.

But my act of the good Samaritan has served its purpose. The teacher gives me an approving look for taking charge of the misfit, just as he manipulated me to do.

“Alright, let’s begin the class. Open your books to page 145. Today we’ll discuss the civil war of 300 years ago and the role of blessings in it...”

As the teacher starts his lesson, I give Tsuneo a sideways glance. He clumsily checks his book, struggling to find the right page. Definitely, he won’t last long before being put in his place, at the bottom of the food chain.

The clock moves slowly as I endure the class. History, mathematics, science... Nothing I haven’t studied on my own. My mind is focused on much more important things.

During the brief breaks between classes, Tsuneo attempts to engage me in some trivial conversation. Clearly eager to please and be accepted. I entertain him with monosyllables just enough not to seem rude, but I couldn’t care less about his bland life or impressions.