The gym was alive.
I couldn't see it, but I could feel it.
Rubber soles screeching against polished wood. Sweat hitting the floor. Voices cracking as players called for a pass, exhaustion slicing through every syllable. The air hung heavy and wet, clinging to my skin like damp paper.
I could map the whole court in my head, every step, every breath, every heartbeat. That's what happens when the world takes your eyes and gives you... everything else.
But right now, I wasn't on the court.
I was in the storage room. In the dark. Surrounded by the smell of dust, detergent... and sweat that wasn't mine.
Click.
A lighter flared. For a split second, my world shifted, heat blooming inches from her lips, the sulfur sting burning my nose. Cigarette smoke curled through the air like something alive, twisting and coiling into the dark.
A bra slid across the floor. Panties scattered like fallen petals, four pairs, soft and silent.
Someone was breathing hard. Not just them. Me too.
"Ahhh... damn it, Kouhai~," she moaned, her weight slipping off me.
Her name? Doesn't matter. I know the rhythm of her heartbeat better than her face.
"Yeah, a fucking stud, I'll give you that," another girl muttered, snapping her uniform back on, the fabric slapping against bare skin.
"I never thought I'd be screwing a junior in a storage room," a third voice added, followed by a laugh. Another click, another cigarette lighting up. Smoke filled the small space, thick enough to choke on.
"Hey, Junior. Don't you dare tell anyone about this, got it?" Her tone dipped low, playful, yet carrying teeth.
I tilted my head, pushing hair from my face. My lips parted slowly, the words dragging out like chains:
"Not if you buy me that strawberry cake. And a creamy coffee."
She giggled, muttering something about me being a fuckboy. Whatever.
Akane. Aiko. Emi. Hana. All of them laughing. All of them touching too much. Their perfume mixed with smoke until it turned poisonous in my lungs.
They didn't know I could hear the grit grinding beneath their shoes. Or how their hearts sped up when I leaned too close. Or that I could smell their lies as sharp as nicotine on their tongues.
And they sure as hell didn't know what I used to be before I woke up in this body.
Before I died.
"You know you're just a fuckboy, huh?" One of them hopped on my back, singing the words like a joke.
"Don't call me that." My voice cracked low.
I let them have their fun. Silently, I appreciated the warmth. The touch. Even if it was empty.
After a few rounds of sex, intimacy dulled into routine. Nothing more than what Akane liked to call "friends with benefits."
The storage door swung open, hinges groaning. From the scent alone, I knew it was a boy, blood rushing hot to his face as he froze at the sight: me, a fellow first-year, still naked, seniors standing around like nothing happened.
A weird sight to uphold.
"Sorry!" he yelped, scrambling back. The basketball he came to return hit the ground with a hollow thud as he bolted.
"That was close. He almost caught me," Hana exhaled smoke, zipping up her skirt.
"Not as bad as me being naked…" I said dryly, tugging my shirt over my shoulders.
"C'mon, relax," Akane, student council president and ace of the basketball team, giggled, her voice playful and dangerous all at once.
"Help me keep his mouth shut, would ya?" I said, stepping out into the hall.
"Koji!" Akane called.
The boy stopped, turned. "Huh?"
"Please don't tell Hinata, 'kay?"
Koji smacked his lips and walked away without replying.
"He's a cutie. Can I get his number?" Emi said, biting her lip.
"You know how he is, always acting all mysterious. But… come to think of it, he's been acting strange lately," Hanami murmured.
"Fuck! I forgot to bring condoms," Aiko hissed, lifting her skirt to check.
---
Third Person POV
"Koji Kato. Freshman. Class B. What is it today?"
A man with sharp glasses skimmed Koji's file, lenses flashing like steel.
"Involved in violence with second-years. One in a near coma. The other three severely injured. Care to explain?"
"Nothing to explain. And I'd do it again." Koji's face stayed blank.
The counselor rubbed his temples, sighing.
"You're becoming a delinquent… fights, scandals with seniors. I'll remind you, this is a prestigious institution."
"I know. You don't have to yell. I can hear you loud and clear." Koji folded his arms, pouting like a child, mocking without trying.
"Look…" The counselor's tone softened. "Your future's at stake. Your family name. Keep this up and next time it won't be detention, it'll be prison. Employers don't hire thugs."
"I hear ya."
"So? Will you change for the better?"
"Yeah."
"Are you sure?"
"I said yes."
"Yes what?"
"Yes… sir."
The counselor leaned back, studying him.
"Good."
---
Koji walked down the hallway, the setting sun painting the floor in molten gold. A figure sprinted toward him, chest heaving, words tumbling out between gasps.
"T-thank you."
Koji tilted his head. "Thanks? For what?"
The boy steadied his breath, lifting his eyes.
"My sister… you saved my sister from those bullies."
Koji tilted his head again, pale irises catching the fading light.
"Weren't you the kid who walked in on me… in the storage room?"
The boy scratched his head, embarrassed. "Ah, yeah. That was me…"
"Forget what you saw. And it was no big deal. Those guys had it coming. Bullies just… keep crawling out of the woodwork lately." Koji sighed, walking past.
The boy's lips parted. Words failed.
"T-thank you!" he called instead.
Koji waved lazily without looking back.
---
"I'm home." Koji slammed the door behind him, cutting through the silence of the house.
"Oyasumi," he tossed toward his father without even glancing.
"Hold up, young man, it's barely past six. Practice run late?"
"Not really. Just a talk with the counselor." Koji paused on the stairs.
"Problems?" his father asked.
"A few."
Koji disappeared upstairs without another word.
His father stared at the carpet, thoughts heavy. He removed his glasses, setting them down with a sigh.
"Damn it… meds," he muttered.
---
Koji's room was quiet. He'd changed into casual clothes, gaze distant, shadows etched under his eyes.
"I hate today," he muttered.
"How long has it been since I woke up in this body? Reincarnation? Transmigration? Who cares…"
He wrote the words like a prayer, ink scratching against paper.
"I've been living blind, in exchange for senses twisted to extremes. Every day, I write it down. To stop myself from unraveling."
The pen snapped in his hand. Metal groaned under his touch as he glanced at the doorknob, dents where his fingers had pressed too hard.
Koji sighed, shutting his pale eyes as he collapsed onto the bed.
---
7:45. Thursday. July, 1986.
A news anchor's voice droned from the TV:
"A group of high school students were killed on their way to school, civilians caught in the crossfire during a Public Safety Devil extermination."
"The species has been classified as the Bully Devil."
Koji's father sat frozen, worry etched into his face.
Koji walked in, buttoning his uniform.
"Oh, Koji, you're up early."
"Yeah."
"You seeing this? Isn't that your school uniform?" His father pointed to the screen.
"How should I know…" Koji trailed off, then froze. The uniforms. Identical.
"Oh, my bad…" his father muttered awkwardly.
"Confirmed victims are Akane, Aiko, Emi, and Hana. Their remains were found in pieces, unrecognizable."
Koji shrugged, slipping on his shoes.
"Koji, be careful."
"Yeah. Got it."
He tilted his head as he stepped outside, the words tasting bitter.
The eyes.
The eyes.
The eyes.
Windows to the soul.
Abolish them from this obscurity.