The final bell rang, its sharp, hollow chime echoing through the classroom as it marked the end of another day—another cycle of lessons that blurred together, another routine that never really changed.
Almost instantly, the room came alive. Chairs scraped loudly against the floor, conversations sparked up in every corner, and laughter mixed with complaints about homework and plans for the evening. It was noisy, careless, and full of energy, as if nothing that had happened earlier mattered anymore.
As if *he* had never mattered at all.
Haruto didn't move.
He remained seated at the very back of the classroom, exactly where he always was. His body leaned slightly forward, elbows resting on the worn surface of his desk. The wood had long since lost its original color, buried beneath layers of carvings—names, symbols, and words etched deep enough to last.
Some were new.
Some had faded over time.
All of them were familiar.
*Useless.*
*Outskirt trash.*
*No Astral.*
*Why are you even here?*
His eyes lingered on the words for a moment, tracing them without really seeing them.
There was no reaction.
Not anymore.
A faint breath slipped from his lips, something close to a laugh but not quite reaching it.
One by one, his classmates filtered out of the room. Most didn't even glance in his direction, passing by as if he didn't exist. A few did look—but only briefly, their expressions tightening before they turned away. Others lingered just long enough to whisper something under their breath, lips curling in quiet amusement before disappearing through the door.
The teacher left early, as usual.
Not a single glance spared.
Eventually, the door slid shut behind the last student.
And just like that, the noise was gone.
The silence that followed settled over the room like a weight—heavier, somehow, than all the noise that came before it.
Haruto leaned back slightly in his chair, his gaze drifting toward the front of the classroom. The board was still covered in half-erased notes, chalk smudged into uneven streaks. He hadn't been able to read most of it anyway.
"…Didn't learn anything again," he muttered under his breath.
Not that it made a difference.
His eyes shifted toward the window.
Outside, the sky stretched endlessly, painted in soft shades of gold and blue as the sun dipped lower toward the horizon. Cutting across that calm expanse—like something that didn't belong to the same world—were the Vanguard ships.
They moved with impossible smoothness. Sleek. Massive. Untouchable.
One of them roared across the sky, leaving behind a faint trail of light that lingered for a moment before fading into nothing.
Haruto followed it with his eyes, watching until it disappeared completely.
"…Must be nice," he murmured.
Up there, things were different.
No one looked at you like you didn't belong. No one decided your worth before you even opened your mouth. No one pushed you down just because of where you were born.
His fingers tightened slightly against the edge of the desk.
"…They don't have to think about any of this, do they…?"
His voice remained calm—too calm, like something he'd repeated to himself too many times.
"People like them…" he continued quietly, "…they don't have to wonder if they deserve it."
The words hung in the empty room.
Haruto lowered his gaze to his hands. They were bruised, faint marks scattered across his knuckles, his fingers trembling just enough to notice if he paid attention.
"…Do we?" he asked under his breath.
The question slipped out before he could stop it.
"…Do we deserve anything at all?"
His jaw tightened.
Memories surfaced whether he wanted them to or not—the classroom, the stares, the laughter. The way people looked at him, like he was something less than human. Like he didn't belong in the same space as them.
Like everyone from the outskirts didn't.
"…Or is this just how it works…?"
He leaned forward, resting his forehead lightly against his hand, his thoughts turning heavier.
"…The strong decide…"
He exhaled slowly.
"…and the weak just endure."
The words trailed off into silence.
For a moment, nothing changed. His expression remained the same, distant and unreadable.
Then, slowly—
something shifted.
His eyes lifted again, drawn back to the sky beyond the window. The fading sunlight reflected faintly in them, catching something that hadn't been there before.
"…No."
The word came out quietly, but there was weight behind it.
His fingers curled into a fist.
"…I'm not staying like this."
This time, there was no hesitation.
No doubt.
"…I'll become one of them."
His gaze locked onto another Vanguard ship crossing the horizon, its presence cutting through the sky like a promise.
"…I'll become a Vanguard."
The words felt distant, almost unreal—but he held onto them anyway.
"…I'll go up there…"
He took a slow breath.
"…beyond the boundless sky."
For a brief moment—just a moment—something flickered in his eyes.
Hope.
"…Somewhere no one decides my fate," he murmured.
His grip tightened.
"…somewhere no one can hold me down."
The silence returned, filling the room once more.
But this time, it didn't feel empty.
It felt heavy—like something inside him was pushing upward, pressing against the surface, waiting for a chance to break through.
"No Astral…" he muttered, letting out a quiet, bitter breath.
"…so what?"
His voice dropped slightly, steadier now.
"…I'll find my own way."
Outside, another ship passed overhead—closer this time, louder. The sound filled the air for a moment before fading into the distance.
Haruto watched it go until it vanished completely.
"…Just wait…"
The words were barely more than a whisper.
"…I'm getting out of here."
Slowly, he stood. The chair scraped softly against the floor, the sound echoing faintly in the empty room.
Nothing responded.
Nothing acknowledged him.
Just like always.
But as he turned toward the door, there was a brief moment—a strange one—where something felt… off.
The air.
It shifted, ever so slightly, like something unseen had stirred.
Haruto paused.
Only for a second.
"…?"
He frowned faintly, then shook his head.
"…Guess I'm just tired…"
And with that, he walked out.
By the time Haruto stepped out of the classroom, the hallway had already emptied out.
Most of the students had rushed off the moment the bell rang, eager to leave the day behind. Their voices had faded into the distance, leaving only a lingering echo of footsteps and the faint hum of a building settling into quiet. The energy that once filled the corridor was gone, replaced by something hollow.
Haruto walked alone.
At first, his steps were slow—not by choice, but because his body simply refused to move any faster. Every movement came with a reminder. A dull ache spread through his chest, tightening slightly whenever he breathed. His ribs throbbed faintly, and his arms felt heavier than they should have, as if something was dragging them down.
"…Tch…"
The sound slipped out of him under his breath.
They really didn't hold back today.
Not that they ever did.
He adjusted the strap of his bag with a stiff motion and continued down the long corridor, eventually stepping out through the school gates. The shift was immediate. Outside, the world was bright, alive, moving forward as if nothing had happened.
Students gathered in small groups, laughing, talking, making plans for the rest of their day. Some waited by the roadside, others walked off together, their voices filled with ease.
Haruto passed through them without a single glance.
Or rather—
they chose not to see him at all.
"…Same as always…"
He stepped past the gate, and just like that, whatever thin connection he had to that place was gone. The city stretched out before him, full of motion, color, and life—but none of it felt like it belonged to him.
Still, his gaze didn't remain on the ground.
Almost unconsciously, it drifted upward.
To the sky.
A Vanguard ship cut across the clouds, its engines glowing faintly as it moved with effortless speed. It was distant, almost untouchable, yet impossible to ignore.
Haruto slowed.
"…There it is again…"
His eyes followed it, as they always did.
How many times has it been now…?
The ship roared overhead, free and unrestrained, carving its path through the sky like nothing could stop it.
"…Must be nice…"
His voice was quiet, almost lost to the wind.
"No one stopping you… no one looking down on you…"
He swallowed lightly.
"No one deciding what you're allowed to be…"
For a moment, everything else faded.
The pain.
The bruises.
The stares.
"…One day…"
His steps continued forward, slower now, absent.
"I'll be up there too."
The ship disappeared into the distance, swallowed by the clouds.
But Haruto didn't notice.
He was still looking up.
And that was his mistake.
He walked straight into someone.
The impact wasn't strong, but it was enough to jolt him out of his thoughts. He stepped back quickly, blinking as reality snapped back into place.
"…Ah—sorry, I wasn't—"
"Ah—ah."
The reaction came immediately.
The guy he had bumped into jerked his arm back as if he'd just been burned, his face twisting in disgust as he stared down at his sleeve. He began brushing it off aggressively, over and over, like something filthy had touched him.
"…You've gotta be kidding me…"
Haruto paused, thrown off for a second.
"I said I'm sorry—"
"Don't."
The word cut him off cold.
The guy didn't even look at him at first, still focused on his sleeve, irritation building with every second.
"Don't talk."
When he finally looked up, the expression on his face wasn't just annoyance.
It was disgust.
He tilted his head slightly toward the person behind him.
"…I just got touched by a stray."
The second guy raised an eyebrow and slowly looked Haruto up and down, taking in everything—the worn clothes, the faint bruises, the way he carried himself.
"…Seriously?"
"Yeah," the first one muttered, still brushing his sleeve. "Look at this."
He did it again, harder this time.
"…Great. Guess I'm throwing this out when I get home."
A dry laugh came from the second guy. "Man… that's rough."
Haruto's expression tightened slightly.
"…It was an accident."
The first guy finally looked at him properly.
Really looked at him.
His gaze dragged from Haruto's face down to his clothes, then back up again—slow, deliberate, dismissive.
"…Of course it was."
Then his eyes narrowed.
"…You people are always 'accidents.'"
The words hung there.
The second guy stepped forward, crossing his arms.
"Don't they teach you to watch where you're going out there?" he said, his tone low with quiet contempt.
Haruto's fingers twitched slightly at his side.
"…My bad," he said again, quieter this time. "I wasn't paying attention."
That should have been enough.
It usually was. But not today.
"…You from the outskirts?" the first one asked.
"…Yeah."
That was all it took.
"Figures."
The first guy stepped closer.
"…You people really don't know your place, do you?"
Haruto didn't move.
"…I said I'm sorry."
His voice stayed flat, controlled—but something underneath it had tightened.
The guy let out a short laugh.
"Yeah, I heard you."
He took another step forward.
"Doesn't really fix the problem though."
Haruto looked at him.
"…What problem?"
The answer came without hesitation.
"…You."
The silence that followed barely lasted a second.
A hand shot forward, grabbing Haruto by the collar and yanking him in.
"You don't belong here."
Before he could react, he was shoved back hard.
His body slammed into the wall behind him with a dull, heavy impact.
"…Tch—!"
Pain shot through his back instantly.
The second guy stepped in.
"…Always acting like you're one of us…"
His voice was cold.
"…Like you belong."
Haruto's hand tightened slightly at his side.
But he didn't move.
Didn't fight back.
Because he already knew—
there was no point.
And that was all they needed.
The first punch drove straight into his stomach.
Air left his lungs instantly.
"Ghh—!"
His knees buckled.
"You don't," the first guy said flatly.
Another hit landed against his side, right where it already hurt. Pain flared sharply, forcing his body to fold slightly.
They didn't stop.
Punch.
Kick.
Another shove.
Each blow came harder than the last.
Haruto didn't resist.
Couldn't. Not like this. Not against them.
"…Go ahead…" he muttered under his breath, barely audible.
Another hit struck his shoulder.
"…Get it out of your system…"
A kick forced him down to one knee.
"…Like everyone else…"
His vision blurred.
"…Bunch of damn—"
The next hit cut him off.
He coughed, tasting blood.
And somewhere deep inside—
something cracked.
*Just die…*
His fingers dug into the ground.
*All of you…*
His breathing grew uneven.
*I don't care anymore…*
The hits kept coming.
*Just disappear…*
And then—
**BOOM.**
The sound tore through the air like thunder splitting the sky apart.
Everything stopped.
The two guys froze.
"…What the hell?!"
The ground trembled beneath them.
Haruto slowly lifted his head.
"…?"
A low rumble followed.
Then silence.
Not normal silence.
The kind that pressed against your ears.
"…Look."
One of them pointed.
Far in the distance, a massive column of black smoke rose into the sky—thick, dark, unnatural.
Haruto's eyes widened.
"…No way…"
His breath caught.
"…That's…"
His heart dropped.
"…the outskirts…"
For a second, he couldn't move.
Then it all hit him at once.
His mother.
Reina.
Home.
"…No…"
He pushed himself up, ignoring the pain screaming through his body.
"…No, no, no—"
He stumbled forward—then broke into a run.
His breathing was already uneven. His body already battered.
But none of that mattered anymore.
"Please…"
His voice trembled.
"Please be okay…"
He ran faster.
Forcing his legs forward.
Ignoring the burning in his chest.
"Move…!"
His teeth clenched.
"Why won't you move?!"
His body felt heavier than ever.
Slower.
"…Damn it—!"
But he kept going.
Jumping over obstacles. Cutting corners. Pushing himself harder than he ever had before.
"Please…"
The smoke grew closer.
"…Please…"
His voice cracked.
"Don't let anything happen…"
The sky darkened as more smoke filled the air.
And for the first time that day—
Haruto wasn't thinking about himself.
Only one thing remained in his mind.
*Get there.*
No matter what.