The other boys in the room glanced his way, some curious, others indifferent, but none of them said anything. They were too busy getting ready, their conversations filled with excitement and nervous energy about the upcoming practical exercises.
Eichi moved to a corner of the room, away from the others, and began changing into his costume. He glanced at the design—it was simple but effective.
Dark grey and navy blue with the crimson Uzumaki swirl on his shoulders. 9He pulled on his pants, the blunt kunai and weighted stones tucked into pouches on his thighs, easily accessible but not overly conspicuous.
However, before he could put on his shirt, someone shrieked. "What thefuck!"
Eichi's head snapped toward the sound, his instincts immediately on high alert. He quickly checked to see if his genjutsu had broken, but it was still intact, masking the worst of his scars.
His gaze landed on the source of the outburst—a boy with black hair, physically unremarkable and otherwise unnoticeable. But what unnerved Eichi were the boy's eyes. They were dark, almost unnaturally so, with a red circle in the center where his pupils should have been.
Eichi felt the headache coming from a mile away. He really,reallyhoped that wasn't the equivalent of a Sharingan in this world. But as Haru's unsettling red-ringed eyes locked onto him, Eichi's hopes were dashed.
The room fell silent, all eyes now on Haru and Eichi. Kenta, ever the opportunist, smirked and crossed his arms. "Had a crush on our Emo boy eh? Haru."
"You good? Who did this to you?" Haru asked, his voice a mix of shock and concern. His eyes, immune to illusions, saw right through Eichi's genjutsu, revealing the full extent of the scars that crisscrossed his torso and arms.
Offuckingcourse. Who could've thought that his luck would be so fucked up as to place him in the same school—no, the sameclass—as someone immune to illusions?
And to make matters worse, Haru was a boy, which meant they were bound to cross paths in the P.E. changing room. Eichi's jaw tightened as he fought back the urge to curse his rotten luck.
Haru ignored Kenta, his unsettling gaze still fixed on Eichi. "Seriously, man. Who did this to you? Those scars... they're not normal. Did you get into some kind of accident or something?"
Eichi's mind got fried. He needed to defuse this situation quickly before Haru's questions dug too deep. "It's none of your business," he said, his tone cold and final. "Drop it."
Kenta, sensing an opportunity to stir the pot, chimed in again. "Scars?" He glanced back at Eichi's face and hands, then at Haru, his smirk widening. "Sure, he has some, but nothing that bad. And don't be so nosy. Not everyone wants to share their tragic backstory, you know."
Haru shot Kenta a wide eyed glance. "Can't you see? His chest! His ar-"
Haru could finish his sentence, Eichi's gaze locked onto him and his hands moved, and the room seemed to shift. Haru's vision collapsed, the walls of the changing room crumbling into ash. The world around him dissolved, leaving only Eichi and himself standing in a void of darkness.
Haru's breath hitched as he glanced at Eichi. The boy's face was eerily calm, devoid of emotion, but Haru could feel it—an overwhelming, suffocating wrath radiating from him like a storm. It was as if the air itself had turned heavy, pressing down on Haru's chest.
Eichi's lips moved slowly, each word cutting through the silence like a blade."Shut. It."
The command was simple, but the weight behind it was unbearable. Haru felt his body freeze, his voice trapped in his throat. He couldn't move, couldn't speak, couldn't even breathe. All he could do was stare at Eichi, his red-ringed eyes wide with fear.
And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the vision shattered. Haru was back in the changing room, the other boys still chatting and getting ready, completely unaware of what had just happened.
But Haru wasn't. His face was pale, his body trembling, and sweat dripped down his forehead as if he'd just run a marathon.
Kenta, oblivious to Haru's sudden distress, raised an eyebrow. "What's with you? You look like you just saw a ghost or something."
Haru didn't respond. His eyes darted to Eichi, who was now calmly pulling on his shirt, his expression as neutral as ever. But Haru knew better. He had seen what lay beneath that calm exterior, and it had terrified him to his core.
Eichi didn't even glance at Haru as he finished dressing. He simply adjusted his costume.
Without a word, he turned and walked out of the changing room, leaving Haru standing there, still shaken.
Kenta shrugged, clearly unbothered. "Weirdo," he muttered under his breath before turning back to his own preparations.
Haru, however, couldn't shake the feeling of dread that had settled in his chest. He had always trusted his Quirk—his ability to see through illusions and perceive the truth.
But what he had just seen in Eichi... it didn't make sense. Eichi was supposed to have a straightforward Quirk, something simple like Enhanced Strength. But what Haru had sensed—no,felt—was something far more complex. Something dangerous.
The scars, the way Eichi carried himself, the sheer intensity of his presence—it all pointed to someone who had been through far more than anyone their age should have.
And then there was that moment, that brief but terrifying vision Eichi had forced upon him. Haru had never experienced anything like it. It wasn't just an illusion; it was a warning. A clear, unspoken message:Stay out of my business, or else.
Haru's hands trembled as he finished getting dressed, his thoughts a chaotic mess. He had always prided himself on his Quirk, on his ability to create and make thoughts a somewhat a reality.
But now, for the first time, he wondered if that ability was more of a curse than a gift. Because what he had seen in Eichi wasn't just a person—it was a force. A force that could crush him without a second thought.