Throughout the entirety of today's lectures, my mood fluctuated between feelings of bitterness and a semblance of mild indifference. Maya's words, when I let myself remember them, brought a wave of bitterness that flooded over me. I was no fool, I knew even before all this happened, that I - Izao, had no chance. However, it's one thing to grasp this cognitively and another to be dealt such a devastating blow in actuality. Even the wisdom accumulated from a previous life of maturity and experiences couldn't help me absorb it with indifference.
I understand Maya. Izao truly gets on her nerves, and circumstances have unfolded in such a way that I often run into her in this guise, encounters that stir up less than pleasant memories for her. So, it's not about my real appearance, though it might have played a part.
After math class, I chanced upon a large mirror and saw my reflection. I scrutinized myself, something I hadn't done in quite some time. I even stopped for ten seconds. Either I was still growing, or my soul was making physical changes to the shell it inhabited, but in the past couple of months, Izao's body had subtly changed. The changes were minor, but they were there.
From the memories I inherited from the soul that previously occupied this body, Izao had never been the center of attention for girls. The reasons for this were not just his relatively small stature and slight build. His appearance, somewhat unattractive because of his youth, was further marred by his demeanor. He walked with a slight stoop, never met anyone's gaze, and always hid his eyes due to extreme shyness. His shuffling gait and perpetually wandering hands, which he never seemed to know what to do with, painted the picture of a typical school outcast.
However, there were attractive aspects in his appearance that went unnoticed due to his behavior. The fusion of French and Japanese blood lent a certain charm to the features of my new face. As Melanie often told her son, "You have charm, but you don't use it". Perhaps she hit the nail on the head with that observation.
Speaking of which, I should measure my height; it seems I'm still growing. No, I'll never be as tall as I was in my past life, but I have a good chance to add seven or even eight centimeters by the time I turn twenty. Maybe it's innate physiology and Izao was a late bloomer, like an ugly duckling, or perhaps it's the influence of my soul. Either way, no one can say for certain.
Still, Maya was right: at the moment, I looked like a scrawny, unremarkable boy, a mere rough draft of a man. I didn't care before, but now it stings.
Considering the combined experiences of two lifetimes, I'm practically an old man. So why does a girl's rejection sting so much? No, I won't resort to adolescent mooning or listening to cheesy heartbreak songs. But... I feel terrible... Truly terrible...
Breaks and interactions with my classmates kept melancholy at bay. Both Christian and Claire projected a facade of strength and independence. They seemed to be unbothered by the opinions of others, as long as it didn't threaten their self-preservation, of course. They were never short on retorts, always ready to take a swipe at others' self-esteem given the chance. Furthermore, Claire lacked any semblance of tact. Yet, I oddly found comfort in their company. Their teasing and blatant mockery of my romantic misfortune didn't evoke anger but oddly lightened my mood.
Today, we had one lecture less than the majority of the first-year students. I wasn't sure why there was this break in the schedule, but it was there nonetheless. Instead of using this free time productively, Claire led us to the cafeteria. We bought heaps of ice cream and eclairs, and then she ushered us to a bench to devour our bounty.
I recognized her attempt to cheer me up. Despite this understanding, I found myself smiling after a few minutes of observing the banter between her and Christian. The bench we chose was located at the corner of the humanities building.
"Wow! Izao!" Claire nudged me. "Check out the girl coming our way. Those legs, wow! Envy-y-y-y-y!!!"
"Cut it out!" Christian chimed in. "A stunner like her won't even spare him a glance."
Her motive for bringing me here was clear. She wanted to show me that Maya wasn't the only girl in the world. Who knows, maybe this tactic would have worked on the original Izao.
"And look at that one!" She pointed at another girl. "Shy, eyes on the ground. Wears glasses. But trust me, a little makeover and she'll be a knockout!" Claire turned to me. "Want me to invite her over?"
"No, thank you." I declined with a shake of my head.
"What? Not your type?" Claire scoffed.
"Yeah, he's after true ladies! They have to be world-famous at the very least! He's our star! Scored second place in the tests!" I didn't respond to Christian's jibe; he too had been rejected today, which had dampened his spirits.
"But seriously..." Claire swiveled to face me, her head tilted so her pigtails hung comically perpendicular to the ground. "What kind of girls do you like? And don't you dare say: 'like Maya!'"
Instead of answering, I started studying her.
"So?" The prolonged silence made her uncomfortable.
"For example, you're cute." I expressed my honest opinion.
"Pfft..." Christian choked on his ice cream and gestured toward his temple, indicating that I might be crazy.
"I know that." The girl didn't seem embarrassed at all as she casually waved her hand. "So what? Look over there!" She pointed towards a small group of female students hurrying to class, deep in conversation. "Which one do you like?"
Simultaneously with her words, a familiar yet unexpected sound rings in my ears: "Ra-a-a-a-i-i-i-ig!" I spin around at the roar that only I can hear, feigning exhaustion from Claire's relentless questions. A freshman appears from around the corner of the building, adjusting his slightly skewed badge. He's not tall, even slightly shorter than Izao, but he's noticeably broad-shouldered. His mature facial features and slightly weary look contrast with his youth. He's so naive, thinking he didn't give himself away. Behind that corner, there are only locked utility rooms and thick, decorative shrubs. He must have been running late for his class and decided to take a shortcut through the Break.
Even though I'd never seen this young man without his armor and helmet, I recognized him immediately. He has distinct proportions that set him apart from the majority. In my mind's eye, I dressed the guy in armor and a closed helmet. Yes, that's it, a dead ringer for a dwarf from the "Lord of the Rings" film series.
Ungor, for it was he, walked briskly past the bench I was sitting on, paying us no mind.
"Well, if you don't want to... whatever." Claire misinterpreted my silence, thinking I was turning up my nose at her. "I'm trying to help him, but he just blows me off!"
"Forget him!" Christian chimed in. "Introduce me to someone!"
"Is your heart broken too?" The girl recoiled from him.
"Yes! It's shattered!" The dark-haired guy dramatically clutched at his chest.
"And who did this? Who dare?!" Claire shook her fist at the sky, feigning outrage.
"You did!" Christian replied, having apparently picked up my straightforwardness.
"Oh, please!" The girl dismissively waved him off, her pigtails whipping about like a dynamo. "That's just silly!"
I couldn't help but burst into laughter. It felt incredibly lucky to have met this pair at this point in my life.
After another half hour of sitting together, we went our separate ways. It was a bit saddening, but I couldn't keep them with me by force. Besides, I had my own business to attend to. First, I needed to write and send the report about the Breakthrough I promised to Rock. Secondly, I wanted to practice transferring images through Spark. On top of that, a group raig training was also scheduled for midnight. And, if there were a chance, I'd love to have a chat with Zanh Kiem.
Returning to my room, I started with the most tedious task - the report. I drafted a general outline, highlighted the key points, and felt satisfied. After that, I destroyed the records, shifted into the Break, and left the university premises. I ended up writing the actual report at home. I pondered for a while on how to depict Crixus's reckless action and decided not to stress on it, merely stating: "due to an unsuccessful attack..." After all, the curators and authorities of Novilter are our allies, not our superiors. Hence, it's better to withhold certain details and not disclose them. Besides, it's unlikely that Maya could have seen the start of Crixus's attack from her position, so our accounts won't contradict each other. And even if such a discrepancy arises, I can always claim that I was much closer and had a better view.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
Thinking of Maya, I fell out of reality for a few minutes, lost in thought, but I pulled myself together, finished the report, and transferred it onto a CD. This medium, along with three hundred similar ones, was purchased by me from a market, without any receipts or such, from an illegal vendor. It was nearly impossible to trace them back to me. Perhaps Zanh Kiem could potentially do it by the residual trace of the aura, and even that's not a certainty. But he's on my side, and besides, he already knows my civilian identity.
Once the formalities were completed, I poured myself a large mug of proper tea, unlike the toxic brew the Maker tried to make me drink. Then I took out a couple of sheets of prana-sensitive paper and placed it in front of me.
At first, nothing worked. Repeating what I was able to do under the guidance of an experienced sensum wasn't easy and I completely spoiled the first sheet. However, since an image did appear, albeit blurred and with blotches, I didn't lose hope. Moreover, it distracted me from how Maya had rejected me. Maybe that was the real reason for my perseverance. Or perhaps I just believed that patience and hard work would eventually pay off - who knows? As a result, quite late in the evening, I managed to catch the right wave, tune into my Spark, and a panorama of the colossal battle of giant mechs emerged on the second sheet.
I studied the "sketch" for a significant amount of time, finding it hard to believe that I was the one who had created such a masterpiece. The moment I accepted this reality, the storyboard for the first episode materialized in my mind. I no longer desired to mimic the storyline of the classic Bateltech series; I yearned for something new. Sure, it would still be based on that universe, but it would be my story. I probably could have thought up an entirely unique world, but why bother? Besides, the giant mechs, whose designs I had memorized, had an inherent beauty and were not well-known in this world. This would make drawing them a lot simpler, and I wouldn't have to waste time concocting a unique lore, allowing me to concentrate on the narrative and characters instead.
The plot that took shape during my conversation with the Maker was simultaneously simple and, nevertheless, incredibly relevant to this world. The protagonist is a natural-born individual in a caste-based society, where those "fortunate" to have been born differently are regarded as superior. They hold a higher status due to their birthright and superior physical abilities. Such a character would no doubt engender immediate empathy. Following his journey as he challenges stereotypes, asserting that a "correct birth," physical strength, and enhanced reflexes aren't everything, and that intelligence is far more critical, would likely captivate the local audience. As the majority of the nobility dismisses comics as "low art," the response of the shapeshifters to my planned work can be disregarded.
Furthermore, I was quite taken with the central idea I wished to infuse into this tale. The concept that technological advancements would eventually level the physical disparities between clansmen and ordinary folk, as demonstrated through the world of mechs. After all, how much does your strength matter when the multi-ton robot you're controlling is still hundreds of times stronger? Of course, I'd have to present this in a subtle manner, but I was confident in my ability to do so.
This mental state, I believe, is what people refer to as inspiration. The only thing that snapped me out of my creative fervor was my alarm clock, set so that I wouldn't miss the scheduled training session. In that period, I managed to sketch out the storyboards for three entire chapters of the first arc! In a few hours, I accomplished far more in this field than I had in all my previous attempts combined. And most surprisingly, I felt no fatigue whatsoever.
Grabbing all the papers and the disk with the report, I erased its traces from my computer, then headed off to my hideout to change into Metatron. The moment the helmet of the First Angel descended onto my head, the troubling thoughts that had started to plague me again seemed somehow distant and less significant. Even the dull heartache echoing, "No chance! You're not my type," receded far away.
Maybe it was thanks to Metatron and the overall tranquil state of the Projection that I managed to keep my cool when I ran into Maya before training began.
The training itself went according to plan, save for Crixus continuing to sidestep me, thereby evading a discussion about his reckless attack. The failed heir to the Corsican clan was fully aware of the potential consequences of his rashness, and it was probably for this reason that he wanted to avoid my well-deserved scolding.
It was notable that all the raigs were pushing themselves harder than usual during training, and even those who usually dropped out after the first session stuck around. The recent unexpected Breakthrough seemed to have shaken some sense into many of them.
After wrapping up the session, I cornered Halley. As we chatted about seemingly trivial matters, I tried to detect any deceit or changes in his behavior. But no matter how hard I looked, I couldn't find anything that deviated from the image he had established. The twins watched our exchange but remained outwardly disinterested. When Halley took off, I shared a few words with them. The sisters informed me they hadn't found any more unexpected interactions with Mersk. After a quiet discussion, we agreed to continue our discreet observation without rushing things or resorting to any provocations.
As soon as the girls left me, the Padawans swarmed in. In a roundabout way, the guys implied that I was in the wrong and shouldn't have done what I did. At first, I was clueless about what they were referring to, but then it clicked. They were upset that I didn't wait for them during the attack and tackled the aliens single-handedly.
"Hold on, hold on!" I interrupted them. "It's your fault you didn't train enough in passing through obstacles!" This baffled them, and I didn't plan on stopping there. "So, you think in a battle situation we should wait for the stragglers, losing the element of surprise and initiative, and only then..."
"We didn't mean..." Dobrynya stammered, looking flustered.
"I don't care what you meant! Each of you gets two additional hours of individual training in walking through concrete walls!"
"For what, sensei?!" Baenre pleaded.
"I say so - therefore, it's necessary!" I snapped.
My students exchanged a few hushed curses and wary glances in my direction before deciding to make a hasty exit, presumably to avoid being burdened with further tasks. As soon as they were out of sight, my eyes scanned the area for Crixus. However, he must have anticipated my search and had already made his own exit. He had been looming nearby just moments ago, now he was nowhere to be found. It was a shame, really; I had only intended to inform him of how I mentioned his attack in the report to the curators, not to reprimand him. I doubted he even bothered to write a basic report; the defiant raig had a penchant for disregarding such "minor details." So, at least there was no need for me to fear any discrepancies. And if he wanted to run from me, then by all means, let him run. When the time comes, catching him won't be a problem considering he practically lives within the BKDW building, isolated from the outside world.
After addressing a few inquiries from the Knights who had purposely lingered after training to question me, I descended to the digital support department to hand in a disk containing my report to the technicians. This room was a hub of constant activity, ensuring that someone was always available.
Exiting the room, I unexpectedly crossed paths with Maya. I hadn't intended to meet her here, but it seemed fate had other plans. I could hardly escape when she had already spotted me, waving her hand and calling out:
"Master!"
Although we were in the Projection, she appeared not so much tired, but somewhat disoriented.
"Yes?" I responded, positioning myself so my face was hidden in the shadows, making it more difficult to discern my expressions.
"I have a personal question, if you don't mind."
Was she intending to discuss me...with me? Awkward.
"Do you recall the prophecy about my future?" she asked.
"You mean the one given by Hyungang Tu Chong?" I hoped she was referring to a different prophecy.
"Yes, that's the one," she confirmed, swiftly crushing my feeble hopes.
"Something about robots, wasn't it?"
"Yes, exactly."
"That's why you pursued robotics," I attempted to steer the conversation in a different direction.
"Yes, but I spoke with the new abbot of the Abode of Knowledge... And Zanh Kiem suggested that the prophecy could be interpreted differently."
"In what way?"
"For the past few months, I've been running into this young man quite frequently," she said, and I felt an unexpected chill despite being in the Break. "Our encounters are always happenstance and rather absurd. At one point, I suspected he was a raig, but after checking, I realized I was wrong. He's a huge fan of all kinds of robots, especially the outlandish and enormous ones... He's constantly wearing clothing adorned with their images... He also happens to study at the same university."
"So?" I impatiently break the girl's extended silence.
"So... Zanh Kiem proposed that this young man, Izao... He's the one the former abbot mentioned in his prophecy."
I'll strangle that bastard! No. I'll bludgeon him to death with a bokken.
"Do you like him?" I attempt a smile, which comes off as forced, but the girl is lost in her thoughts and doesn't notice.
"Eh?! No! He's not my type at all." She dismisses the idea.
Projection is supposed to dampen emotions. It should... So why isn't it working now?
"Go on." My voice is as parched as the Sahara Desert.
"He confessed to me today..."
"He confessed what?" It's hard for me to get the words out.
"That he likes me... and I..."
"And you?"
"I turned him down. Rather harshly, I realize now." Oh really!!! "What's going to happen now?"
"What do you mean, 'what's going to happen now?'" I don't understand her.
"If my life indeed depends somehow on this Izao..." Her use of "this" grates on my nerves like sandpaper on glass. "Did I make a mistake?"
"Do you think you should retract your rejection?" I'm seething. Not at her, but at everything, probably the universe.
"No!" She shakes her head. "That's impossible."
"There are very few things that are truly impossible in this world." I'm not feeling proud of myself right now.
"Not long ago, maybe, I would have done just that. But now... it's impossible..."
"Why?"
"I... I... I have feelings for someone else."
"'Have feelings' is a vague term."
"I really like him." Having said this, the girl turns away, as if it's difficult for her to discuss. "So much so that I can't even force myself to be close to another! Even if my life depends on it."
"So, our lady has a boyfriend?" What am I saying?!
"No! He doesn't know!"
"Then confess to him. You're beautiful, intelligent, a Break Knight, and the idol of millions. I don't think anyone could reject you."
"No!" She recoils from me as if I've offered her a cup of poison to drink.
"No?"
"No! It's impossible! Absolutely impossible! No way!"
"But..."
"Sorry, I shouldn't have brought this up." Maya mumbles hurriedly. "I'll go, don't bother walking me out... I need to be alone." Noticing my step towards her, she shields her eyes and pleads. "Please..."
I step back, and the girl instantly vanishes into the twilight of the night city in Sliding.
Women...
As a good friend of mine used to say in a past life: "Women... it's incredibly difficult with them. But... Without them, it's impossible!"
It seems that today, I have grasped the truth of these words.