I wake up, drenched in sweat, surrounded by stacks of instant noodles and other snacks. A bad dream lingers in my mind, but its details escape me. As I slowly rise from bed, I begin my daily otaku routine: wake up, eat or get food, then game. Walking to the kitchen, I notice I feel lighter than usual. I veer into the bathroom for morning duties. After washing my hands, I gaze into the mirror and see my face. "I'm looking... insanely plain today," I think.
I head to the fridge—empty. Opening the cabinets, they're also bare. Looks like I have to go out. I slide into some clothes and throw on a random pair of shoes. "What a drag," I mutter.
Pushing open the door, the sight of my classmate greets me.
"Oh? What are you doing here...?" Rin Takanaka, the prettiest girl in school—popular, with excellent grades. She's never treated me any differently, but I'd catch her giving me dirty looks on the few days I attended class.
"I'm here to bring you your missed work from school, nothing more," she says flatly, handing me the papers.
"Well, thank you," I reply, taking the papers.
"Maybe you should start coming to school. Nobody, including me, wants to be here every other day just to give you these-" she begins, but I cut her off sharply, a cold edge in my voice that surprises even me. "Sorry, but I don't recall asking you to be here. Throw it away if you want." I shut the door and walk past her. I hear her muttering under her breath as she walks away.
At the store, I swiftly grab my usual—an energy drink, chips, and ramen. I approach the counter, paying with exact change.
"Have a nice... day?" I say, barely looking up, only to recognize a familiar face—my old friend Kisuki. The same guy who tormented and bullied me throughout grade school. One of the main reasons I avoid going to school regularly.
As I exit, he calls out, "Don't come here anymore, or I'll spin some story to the school about how you threatened me." I turn to face his smug expression, my fists balling up with rage. A strange, null confidence erupts within me, the kind that surfaces when I'm most inclined to be a coward.
"Then take this as a warning," I say, leaping over the counter.
"Wait, what the hell are you doing-?!" he begins, but I don't care. I land a punch square on his jaw. Standing over him, my fists burning with a sense of liberty, I spit on him.
"Tell them this," I mutter, then start walking back home.