Have you ever felt useless? Not just a little left out, no. Useless to the point of wondering what the hell you're even doing there, in that setting. If so, then we're in the same boat.
I realized it when I finally understood that superpowers didn't exist. I didn't make a scene; I was just disappointed. At the very least, if monsters and heroes existed, well, good luck to the police, but life would've been tougher, and they would have felt just as useless, too. I also often dreamed of being sent to another world, of becoming the hero there. But deep down, I think I knew I had no power. I just refused to accept it, probably to keep my childhood alive outside of this grim reality.
Dringggg!
The high school bell sliced through my thoughts like a guillotine just as I reached the top of the long slope I had been climbing. My calves still remembered it.
I entered the large gymnasium. It was a furnace of new faces from different middle schools. This blend of strangers made me nauseous, and the surrounding roar of chatter didn't help. There were a lot of us, maybe 500 or 600 students, huddling together like cattle waiting to be branded. The principal rolled out the usual speech institutional "blah-blah" that went in one ear and out the other before posting the class lists.
Class F-1.
That's where I had to go. All around me, groups were already forming, people who knew each other and were laughing. Me? No one. Not a single familiar face. I had chosen this school precisely because none of my old classmates set foot here. I had to start everything from scratch. I sighed. Isn't this what I wanted? Total anonymity.
As I entered the classroom, I spotted a seat at the back, by the window. At least I'd have the view. Right in front of me sat a girl with a stern gaze. Her face itself looked severe, as if she wanted to keep everyone at a distance. But what struck me were her eyes: violet. A color like flowers, which seemed to be the exact opposite of her cold stare.
Then, a man in his thirties walked in. He already bore the scars of teaching on his skull: a receding hairline that was seriously gaining ground. He swept the room with a tired look. "Good morning, everyone," he said without much conviction. "I am Mr. Valmont, your homeroom teacher for this year."
Then came the dreaded moment: introductions. It was my turn. I stood up, feeling every gaze weigh on me. "Hello, my name is Salkony. I come from Saint-Exupéry Middle School. I hope we'll get along well this year." I sat back down immediately. The class applauded. Not for my speech, no, but because it's a mandatory social act. We clap because it's the rule, because someone made the effort to say three words in front of everyone. A politeness void of meaning.
Once the rules were handed out and the introductions finished, the day was already coming to an end. It was only a visit; real classes didn't start until tomorrow. As the roar of discussion resumed, the girl in front of me stood up. Her long, blue-black hair brushed against her chair as she left in two seconds flat. During her own introduction, she had stood up, dropped her name, and sat back down so fast that no one had time to react, let alone applaud.
Shimizu Mizuki. Given her intense look and lightning-fast exit, I was already starting to regret being seated behind her. She looked like she had quite the temperament, the type who didn't bother with useless pleasantries.
Anyway, I left the classroom in turn. Having no friends here, I had no reason to linger. My priority? Finding the restrooms. I didn't know the layout well yet and searched nervously, passing teachers and students already ready to head home. I was seriously starting to pray I wouldn't piss myself before reaching the exit. Finally, after opening two or three wrong doors, I found what I was looking for.
Once I was done, I headed toward the building exit, my mind already on my bed. But suddenly, a cold void in my pocket. I could no longer feel my keys. Panic surged instantly. There I was, ready to leave, but without my keys, I was stuck outside. Tired of my own stupidity, I turned back.
How could I have lost them?
I went back to the classroom: nothing. To the restrooms: still nothing. I was on the verge of giving up, already imagining a total stranger picking up my keychain to come burgle my room, even if they had no idea where I lived. In one last burst of despair, I pushed open the door of a room at random...
In one last burst of despair, I pushed open the door of a room at random.
The room was bathed in orange light, the kind from a sun collapsing behind the horizon. In the middle: a white table, some chairs, a small bookshelf... and her.
A girl was looking out the window. She turned slowly. She was wearing our uniform, with long brownish-black hair and hazel eyes that leaned toward orange, likely spoiled by some good genes. She was beautiful, in an almost annoying way.
"Hi?" she tossed out.
I didn't understand what the hell she was doing there when we were all supposed to be home. I forced myself to sketch a fake smile. "Oh, hi. Sorry to bother you, I'm looking for—"
"Your keys?" she cut me off.
I stood there, jaw dropped. How did she know? Don't tell me...
"You're wondering how I know?" she added.
She reads minds, too?! She raised her hand, my keys spinning on the tip of her finger before she tossed them to me. I caught them just in time. "Where did you find them?" I asked, growing more curious by the second.
She pressed a finger to her lips, a tiny, mysterious look on her face.
"I think I found them on the floor, in the hallways. You know, you should pay more attention to your stuff."
This interaction was already exhausting me. I started turning back toward the exit.
"I see. I'll be more careful. Thanks for picking them up. Have a good evening."
Just as my hand touched the door handle, her voice echoed behind my back, ice-cold:
"You're welcome, Salkony."
I stopped dead. My gaze remained fixed on the door, eyes wide open. I stole a glance over my shoulder, searching my memory to see if her face was familiar, if she was a classmate. Nothing. A total blank. Yet, she was smiling at me, looking amused by my confusion.
"Do we know each other?"
I asked, my throat dry. She stepped forward slowly, the sound of her footsteps echoing in the silence of the room.
"No, not for now. I know you, but you don't know me." She knows me?
What is she, a stalker? What's so special about me?! I can cook her rice with a perfect texture if she wants, but right now, she's starting to freak me out. I should go home. Fast.
"And how do I know you?" she continued, putting her hands on her hips, looking proud of herself.
"Because standing before you is the one and only Haruka. I am the only one in this entire universe, and in this world, capable of traveling through other dimensions. That's why I know you: I've already lived through this interaction billions of times. Maybe even an infinite amount."
I stared at her, eyes rounded. I had never seen anyone so confident while spouting such bullshit. Traveling through other universes?! This was the first time I'd heard something so crazy in real life. She must have watched too much anime or read too many manga. I sincerely hoped she didn't have serious mental health issues, because dropping that on someone you've just "met" is insane.