My eyes widened in disbelief. Is that what he's calling me now? That same smirk remained on my father's face as my hands tightened around the doorknob, threatening to rip it from its hinges. Now I guess I had a reason for why I would want him dead; he was actively ridiculing me for what had happened last night.
"I'm gonna be late." I grumbled as I opened the door, my gaze remaining on him as I stepped outside, feeling the frigid morning air brush against my uniform. With trembling hands I shut the door—using all my current willpower not to slam it in his face—or worse—grab his head and slam the door into it.
Above me the sky was murky and gray, and in the distance, I could hear thunder rumbling over the trees. I turned on my phone and looked down at the screen, seeing that the time was now 5:30, and since school started at 6:00, I had very little time to spare.
Looking back at my house, I felt my heart beat a little faster when I saw my father opening the fridge—which had little food—and taking out a medium sized bottle of beer. Wasn't today a day where he had to turn in for work?
I had always suspected that my father was sometimes drunk on the job, and at the same time I always wondered why he wasn't fired. Isn't driving under the influence illegal? Before I was too deep in my thoughts, a cold sensation fell onto my head, followed by another and another. It was raining.
Looking up in the sky, I watched as the raindrops fell to the ground and onto my body one after another. I was used to scenarios like this, being left in the rain. One time I came home from the park in the middle of a thunderstorm and tried to enter my house, but the door was locked. That's the first time I found out I could use the back window to get into my bedroom.
With a long and heavy sigh, I hoisted my worn backpack over my shoulders and began to walk down the narrow sidewalk. Every once in a while I'd wait by the bus stop if I didn't feel like walking—but today, sitting in the rain didn't sound appealing at all.
Even if I did go to the bus stop, chances are it wouldn't even want to stop by my neighborhood. Even if it was an overall quiet and monotonous place, it was near a neighborhood rumored to be run by street gangs and the mafia. I never heard gunshots or firefights, so I suspected that those were just rumors.
The more I walked, the louder and louder the streets got. Even if it was five in the morning, the streets of Hosu never seemed to truly calm down. Street vendors and corner stores flipped their signs saying they're opening, along with neon signs indicating that customers either had to brush their feet off on the carpet before entering or dry their clothing using a complementary towel hanging over a heater near the door.
Around me, everyone wore these fancy semi-transparent coats with different colors, either taking public transport or walking or riding their bikes to work, school, or enjoying their days off from those things. My spring break had ended a few weeks ago, and I had spent the entire time sitting in the park and reading or sorting my fathers paperwork like always.
Eventually, over a clearing of neatly trimmed trees, I saw the roof of my school. The building overall appeared normal, yet it contained an eerie and refined appearance. The building had three floors and numerous large windows showing the inside. In the middle of the courtyard was a statue of a koi fish, which represents courage.
In the year and a half I've been here, the school has always tried to ensure that their students were learning in a safe environment, giving them healthy lunches and ensuring none of the teachers slacked off. I learned why the teachers never did a bad job: they were paid more than other teachers in other schools in the area.
School lunches here were also free, which meant my parents didn't have to worry about paying for my food.
I had almost forgotten about the rain as I took in the appearance of the school. It looked like a building that millionaires would reside in, not students and teachers. Behind me I heard a few cars pull into the parking lot, and on the other side of me swaths of students arrived at the school—almost all of them were carrying umbrellas. They either remained quiet or discussed classes and gossip abnormally loudly for the time of day.
While I was half asleep, half the school seemed to be wide awake. Rolling my shoulders to ensure my backpack didn't slip off my back, I continued to walk forward towards the building. Since I didn't have a coat, my uniform was drenched, but the school's indoor heating was pretty powerful, and I had a feeling I'd get dried off in a matter of minutes.
When I entered the building, all the cold outside was secluded by the automatic sliding doors. The floors were shiny and polished, almost to the extent where one could see their reflection in the tiles. Lining the hallways before the auditorium and cafeteria, numerous navy blue lockers sat on either side of the hallway, each locked behind a digital code system.
We weren't allowed to carry our backpacks from class to class, so we had to gamble: we could either stuff all our books under our elbows to make sure we got to class on time, or we could take the extra minutes to go to our lockers and do all the proper procedures.
...
The second period bell had finished ringing. I would have immediately stood up and left the classroom but the school had recently initiated a few rules regarding the groups of students.
The kids with quirks had to leave before the kids without them. According to the announcement—which I was half asleep during—the students with quirks had to get to their classes first to "minimize the chance of danger" for the quirkless kids.
I didn't exactly know what I thought about this rule. It was sort of beneficial because some kids have been known to have pretty dangerous quirks. One of them—whom I forgot their name— could diffuse their body into green acid, often using this method to quickly slide from class to class.
Rumors spread across the board that he was caught in the act recently and had to apologize to all the people he made slip.
Another girl could make fire from her palms, but she wasn't known to be a troublemaker. In the cafeteria I once saw her heating up her lunch, which had turned cold. Then there's one boy I did recognize; his name was Rayo, and he had large white wings on his back. He was known to play pranks on people in his free time, either scattering feathers around the classrooms or "accidentally" tickling someone during class, making their face turn beet red in an attempt to stifle a giggle.
Rayo was in my second period class. He was lazily tossing a pencil up and down, catching it while the teacher rambled about the anatomy of cells. Strangely, he wasn't the type to slack off, as he'd always turn in his assignments on time. Everyone in the school thinks his wings are a side effect of his real quirk, which the others had assumed was some sort of discipline control or mind control.
After the bell rang his wings unfolded like weapons as he flew out of the classroom, the teacher shouting at him to slow down as he departed with an animalistic grin, laughing the entire time.
Aside from Rayo, a few other kids in my class possessed quirks. A boy whose body was a living shadow quickly diffused, a solemn expression on his face as he silently crept up the walls and disappeared.
Another girl with a pair of goat horns on her head stood up, picking up her backpack as she strolled out of the room, opening up a random social media account and taking a selfie.
...
After the rest of them departed, I was left alone in the room with a few other quirkless students. There were only about five of us in the room besides the teacher who had been sitting at his desk and was writing down the next day's lesson plans.
I stood up slowly and picked up my bulky science textbook, hoisting it under my shoulder as I departed from the classroom.
The next class I had was third period, and the very premise of the class made me internally groan. I had math class next—the worst class of them all in my opinion.
I was more of an English person—I somewhat enjoy writing essays and analyzing poems. The hallways in the school were filled with quirkless students just like me.
I could tell most of not all of them didn't have quirks based on the lack of inhuman appendages. Most of the quirkless kids I have seen either had some sort of tails, wings or horns if they had a mutant type quirk.
The students with emitter quirks were harder to tell apart, for their ability mostly came from inside. Some could generate ice, others could conjure dazzling light, and others could even temporarily erase quirks from being used.
And lastly the people with the transformation quirks were in the middle. Some had tentacles for hands, others were either half the size or double the size of regular students.
I had learned about the types of quirks in my health class, because the teaching curriculum had to add quirk-based studies to ensure we were "knowledgeable about these new changes in society."
Turning the corner to the hall where I had my math class, I approached my locker and punched in the code. This was a somewhat convenient system, I could just press buttons instead of remembering which ways to twist and turn a lock in order to open it.
I remember practicing this for months on end in preparation for my first time at this new school since my attempt, but I couldn't help but express both disappointment and joy when I saw the keypad system.
Opening my navy blue locker I stuffed away my science textbook, the bulky green and yellow book somehow managing its way into the locker without falling from atop and shaking the entire hallway.
I reached into my worn backpack and took out the necessary supplies. My math teacher wasn't the type to assign homework, but he often gave surprise tests and quizzes to keep our brains running and to ensure we remembered what we knew without the stress of homework.
After I counted about three times to ensure I had the correct materials, I closed my locker with a loud clang and turned to my left, where I immediately ran into someone's chest.
"Watch it dumbass." His somewhat deep voice called out from above.
I scurried to step back, looking up at the boy. He had black spiky hair and yellow eyes. Behind him, I saw another boy with small white wings, and a pair of white horns on his head, much like a demon.
The last boy had green scales on his body, and his tongue lolled out like a gecko. I quickly recalled who they were, and when I fully remembered their identities I felt my heart stop beating.
These were the same boys who had bullied Ayumi in the park!
"You quirkless?" The black haired boy asked— cocking an eyebrow as he showed me a teething grin—it was almost predatory.
Not like the smile a creepy man would give, but an animal who saw prey sitting alone in a field, unaware of the lurking danger.
I wanted to speak, but the words didn't come out of my mouth, as if lodged in my throat or kept there by a chain at the bottom of my feet.
"This weekend we found a nice girl in the park, and we decided her quirkless, puny ass deserved a beating. People like you will always lurk beneath our shadows."
He rolled up his sleeve as he spoke, exposing the tattoo he had gotten of an electrical symbol.
"Now, would you mind getting on the floor and licking my shoes, flatgene?"
His hands began to crackle and spark with yellow electricity as he held his hand up to his face, showing me his palm.
"Grab him." The boy looked back at his friends, who all smiled as he approached me. I wanted to run, to call for help, but nothing came out of my body, nothing made me move.
The boys walked behind me and pinned my body against the locker—the green one's supernatural strength coming into play.
"We didn't beat that girl too badly because we were in public, but because we're in this pretty little building we can do whatever the fuck we want with you." The boy with small white wings grinned as he plucked a feather, running it across my face.
I flinched, yanking my head to the side in an attempt to stop the teasing.
At that moment, I felt a surge of pain as I was punched in the gut by the black haired boy, sending a surge of white-hot pain through my body as I fell to my knees, feeling a sharp electrical current pass through my body from the attack.
"You're almost there." He cooed mockingly, picking me up by my uniform collar and landing another punch directly to my face, sending another surge of pain through my body accompanied by an electrical shock.
I gritted my teeth as my body invulnerability convulsed, the current surging through my body the longer he held me. It was like he was a battery and I was a conductor for his deranged mind.
"Maybe if I knock you out you'll be begging at my knees for more." The black-haired haired boy's eyes narrowed as he tightened his grip around my collar, causing the electrical current to increase in strength.
I let out a gargled groan of pain—my entire world seemingly filled with the bright yellow electricity. The corners of my eyes began to turn black, and my vision eventually grew hazy as I finally passed out.