A simple alarm rang through the bedroom, marking the start of a new day. Suddenly, a hand tapped the alarm, and a boy's voice muttered, "What a bother!"

Without any ambition in his eyes, the white-haired boy got out of bed and changed into his school uniform. It was a prestigious high school, even among the few schools available due to the population decrease—a significant issue in Japan in the year 2038.

He washed his face in the bathroom and went downstairs to the living room, where a pleasant smell was coming from the kitchen.

"Morning, Kyou," said a cheerful woman in her forties, although she looked like she was in her twenties. "As always, you seem to have left your soul in bed. Did you make some kind of dark ritual with a devil that you're hiding from me or something? Son, you can tell me anything! I'll call a Shinto priest friend of mine if we need to."

Kyou gazed at his mother, mentally condemning her way of thinking. She replied with a grin, "And your dead fish eyes do nothing to prove me wrong, my unfortunate son!"

"Sorry to have been born this way," he said mockingly, finally sitting down at the table. A typical Japanese breakfast was laid out, with fish, pickled vegetables, rice, and miso soup. He joined his palms together in a prayer-like gesture and said, "Itadakimasu," which means "I humbly receive this meal."

He took a bite, and it was as good as always. Even as a hardworking office worker who could pay all the bills for the house, his mother's cooking skills were second to none.

On the opposite side of the room, the TV was on, showing the news of the day and the weather forecast, none of which caught Kyou's attention.

"So, how's school, my profane son?"

"My grades are fine."

"And who asked about your grades? I don't give a damn about your grades."

Kyou knitted his eyebrows and stared at her, thinking, Please, be a normal mother and care about my grades. Seeing this, she gave him a proud grin that seemed to say, You can keep dreaming, son!

Ultimately defeated, he closed his eyes and said, "I have no troubles at school."

"And that means no friends," she concluded.

Kyou stared at his food for a moment as the image of a girl—another cheerful person—crossed his mind.

"Oh, did you think of someone? Was it Ai-chan?"

Kyou shut his eyes, embarrassed. His mother's thought-reading skills could not be underestimated, as he already knew. To escape the topic, he kept his mouth busy eating. The faster he finished breakfast, the better.

"Ai-chan surely has it hard taking care of you. Please invite her over for the weekend so I can thank her properly."

This time Kyou looked at his mother as if saying, You can keep dreaming, Mother, to which she responded with a slightly disappointed smile. She had seen that one coming, but she needed to insist anyway. A mother can only dream. She would persist as much as needed.

Kyou finished eating, clapped his hands, and said, "Gochisousama deshita," which means "Thank you for the meal." He stood up. "Mother, I'll be leaving for school."

"Already?"

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

"I have cleaning duties today."

"What? Really? Oh, that is bad! Mama will feel lonely if you don't speak more with her," she said as she rose from her chair and gave him an awkward hug while he was still sitting.

"What...! Wait!... Stop it!" She ignored his pleas for a few seconds and finally released a blushing boy. "Okay, my batteries are recharged for the day. You can go now!"

With somewhat bewildered eyes, Kyou stood up and went to pick up his school bag. After putting on his shoes at the door, he faced his mother, who was seeing him out, and said, "Sayonara."

His mother snapped. "Sayonara?! How many times do I have to tell you that you shouldn't leave this house like you're going away forever? You're not going to die or live overseas, you know?"

"And how do you know that?"

Okay, here we go again, she thought. Ever since Kyou found the philosophy of existential nihilism on the internet while searching for the meaning of life two years ago, he had been repeating this line. There was no sign of this phase ending anytime soon. However, she was ready for it.

She pulled his cheeks from both sides and said, "Now you hear me, my stupid son! When someone is leaving their own house, they must say 'Ittekimasu,' because when they come back, they will be greeted with an 'Okaeri' by any family members present. How many times have I explained this to you? And some teachers have the guts to tell me you're very intelligent. I wonder where your intelligence goes at times like these!"

Kyou regretted opening his mouth earlier. This morning, his mother was more aggressive than usual. It was better to just nod and do things her way for a change. After she released him, he rubbed his cheeks to get rid of any marks, looked at his mother somewhat embarrassed, and said, "Ittekimasu," which means "I'll be going out."

Somewhat satisfied, she replied, "Itterashai," meaning "Take care out there."

With that, Kyou opened the door and stepped outside, closing it behind him.

The sun wasn't too hot as it was still early spring. The cold of winter still lingered over Tokyo. Kyou tightened his coat and started walking toward the train station.

Technology had improved transportation and many other aspects of Japanese society. The most prominent change was the use of robots in industries as an attempt to solve the problem of lacking manpower, as Japan still retained much of its xenophobic legacy from the past, preventing a greater number of foreigners from moving there. With just a few taps on your cell phone, you could access an infinite range of services and be satisfied with their quality. Some companies were even trying to implement robots in roles like cashiers, as in the train station Kyou was heading to. These robots could understand dozens of languages and answer thousands of questions as needed by the ever-welcome tourists—a stark contrast to the treatment given to those who wanted to live there.

Kyou always avoided interacting with the robots as much as possible; he thought they were the illusion of existence created by another illusion. The irony was so great that he pitied them. He paid for his ticket with his card and proceeded to the platform to wait for his train.

While waiting, he saw holographic posts displaying different advertisements on the walls and near vending machines. These were still successful in the market and now almost always beside food machines that could deliver a hot hamburger, yakisoba, pizza, or even just potato fries if you weren't that hungry.

The train arrived soon, and the orderly lines of workers and students boarded until it was full. Kyou stood near a door and put in his earphones to enjoy Chopin's "Aeolian Harp." As he closed his eyes and listened, everything around him vanished. A sense of peace was reached as all the colors and noises were ignored, until his phone vibrated to announce he was near his station. He stopped his music player, much to his discontent, and disembarked the train.

After a fifteen-minute walk, he was finally in front of the gates of his high school, a big building hidden among other big buildings.

He entered the gates, crossing paths with others—members of clubs or just students with cleaning duties like himself. Some greeted each other, but none greeted him. A couple of them just glanced at him curiously and went on their way. Kyou didn't mind at all. In fact, he was glad things were like that. The fewer relationships he had, the more peace he found in the nothingness of his meaningless life.

He changed into his indoor shoes, the uwabaki, at the entrance and headed to his classroom, where he was supposed to meet Inoue Misaki, his classmate. However, when he opened the sliding door, the girl sitting on top of the teacher's desk wasn't Inoue-chan.

"Ohayou, Kyou-kun," said the brown-haired girl with blue eyes with a wide impish smile on her face. Saying good morning in such an informal way and addressing him directly by his name—such intimate actions were only dared by one person in this whole school: Usami Ai.

The absence of the assigned classmate and the excited, shining eyes on Ai's face were all the clues he needed to understand that today would become just another one of those troubled days in his life. And the school day was just beginning...