Beads of sweat trickled down his cheek as he approached the towering entrance. It sure didn’t help that the late summer heat pressed against his skin like an unwelcome embrace. Each step felt like wading through a heavy, oppressive fog that clung to his skin like a damp shirt. All the same, the school building loomed ahead, its weathered brick and gleaming windows catching the morning light in a way that made it seem both inviting and intimidating.

  What was school really like? Was it anything like manga and anime made it out to be? If not, what kind of experience awaited him past these gates? The faces of the students streaming by in a lively blur seemed to hold the answer to that very question. The air hummed with conversations, punctuated by occasional bursts of laughter and the rhythmic thumping of backpacks against shoulders.

  For the most part, they'd already formed their own cliques, exchanging tales about their summer adventures as well as the coming school year. A group of future athletes tossed a football back and forth. Near the entrance, girls with matching scrunchies huddled over a phone, gasping at whatever they saw on the screen. Likely, some new trend that people were only forcing themselves to like. Though there were a few others who kept to themselves. A few like him. They were either engrossed in their favorite light novel or mouthing the lyrics to whatever song was blasting through their headphones, creating invisible barriers between themselves and the rest of the world.

  But what really mattered was that they all seemed to be smiling. Surely that was a good sign, right? At least, that's how Akuma took it, though the knot in his stomach still tightened with each passing second.

  Fumbling with his trembling fingers, Akuma pulled out a crumpled schedule from his right pocket and re-read the faded details for what seemed like the thousandth time. The paper had been folded and unfolded so many times that the creases threatened to tear.

  “Homeroom. Mr. Allen. Room D12…” He muttered as he pushed through the swings of the enormous double gates.

  The question now tugged at him. Where exactly was that room? Should he dare ask someone?

  His eyes scanned the crowd for a friendly face, a nerd type preferably. They tend to be less prone to judging other people’s awkwardness and stammers.

  A girl with vibrant pink hair caught his attention, lost in a well-worn romance novel, its spine cracked, and pages dog-eared from countless readings. Something about her seemed to promise comfort, as if a single conversation might melt away his anxieties. The panda shaped library sticker on her book suggested as such.

  The thought of them talking put an awfully giddy smile on his face. Before he realized it, he'd begun rehearsing an introduction over and over in his head.

  (Hi, I'm Akuma. I'm new here and... No, that sounds desperate. Besides, everyone’s new here. Excuse me, could you tell me where... Too formal. Hey, cool book, is it any good?)

  Eventually, uncertainty won out and a heavy sigh escaped him as his shoulders slumped in resignation. The pink-haired girl turned a page, oblivious to his internal struggle.

  Suddenly, memories of Jacob flashed through his mind. An entire week had passed since the whole alleyway fiesta, and not a single word had been exchanged afterward. The image of Jacob's face, pale with fear after seeing him fight that thug, remained etched in his memory. And with no cell phone to bridge the gap, it was all up to a chance encounter. Though he didn't have the slightest drop of faith in something like that. I mean, the school was huge.

  “D12, huh? Looks like we're in the same class.”

  The sudden voice came from behind him. To think he was so lost in his own thoughts that someone managed to sneak up behind him.

  The voice sent a jolt through his body, triggering reflexes honed through years of training.

  Reflexively, Akuma whirled, his elbow slicing the space behind him like a sharpened blade. The movement was fluid, practiced… and deadly. Only at the final moment, realizing he was at school and not training, did he manage to stop the motion.

  Though for the startled boy who'd snuck up on him, time seemed to freeze. His eyes shimmered with panic as his hands slowly lifted in surrender, the life draining from his face.

  “H-Hey, Akuma… Long time no see…” He stammered, his voice barely audible above the ambient chatter of the schoolyard.

  For a brief moment, Akuma blinked in disbelief, his heart hammering against his ribcage.

  “Jacob...?”

  The name felt strange on his tongue after a week of silence.

  A nervous chuckle escaped Jacob as his eyes darted away from the dangerously close, hovering elbow. The morning sunlight caught the sheen of sweat that had broken out across his forehead.

  “Y-Yep. L-Long time no see, Akuma…” He repeated, his voice creaking as if still recovering from almost being flattened.

  Realizing with a jolt that his elbow had almost become an unintended weapon, Akuma hurriedly pulled back his arm and clasped his hands behind his back. Hell, he might've just killed him had he not stopped in time. The thought sent an icy chill down his spine.

  “S-Sorry about that. You caught me off guard.” Akuma said, his voice low and remorseful. His palms were suddenly slick with sweat, causing him to wipe them against his uniform pants.

  Jacob's rigid shoulders relaxed as he exhaled a shaky sigh, the color gradually returning to his face.

  “No, that's on me. I really should've announced myself before just sneaking up on you like that.”

  A tentative smile played at the corners of his mouth.

  For several heavy seconds, silence pressed between them like thick fog, filled only by the ambient sounds of the schoolyard. You know, laughter, conversations, the distant ring of a warning bell.

  Finally, clearing his throat to break the tension, Akuma ventured, “So, uh… you're in D12 too, huh?”

  He gestured vaguely to his crumpled schedule.

  Jacob nodded, another tentative smile emerging.

  “Yep. What are the odds, huh?”

  He glanced toward the school building, something unreadable flickering across his expression.

  Another pause stretched the moment, the air between them charged with unspoken questions about their last encounter, until Jacob offered, “Wanna head to class?”

  Akuma's nod was swift, relief washing over him at the chance to move past the awkwardness.

  “Yeah, let's go.”

  The hallways were packed to the brim with scrambling students. Most of which either didn't have their schedule or simply forgot the layout of the building. The air was thick with the scent of floor polish, new books, and the unmistakable tang of anxiety that permeated every first day.

  Walking side by side along the echoing corridors, Akuma's curiosity tugged at him.

  “You're a freshman too, right? Then how come you know your way around so well?” he asked, watching Jacob's confident stride with puzzlement.

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  Jacob's lips stretched into a knowing smile, though something about it seemed forced.

  “I went to the open house last month.”

  His fingers drummed against his thigh as they walked, a nervous tic that contradicted his casual tone.

  Akuma tilted his head in mild confusion, brushing past a group of upper-classmen who towered over the freshmen around them.

  “Open house?”

  Jacob sighed, his breath catching slightly.

  “Should've seen that coming… Y'know, where you got your schedule? See your classmates? I have to say, I was surprised earlier. Your name wasn't on the roster a month ago. Guess they must've swapped you last second.”

  “I see…” Akuma went, his attention returning to the distant halls, counting the numbered rooms as they passed.

  “Then I guess that must be why this schedule came through the mail… Wait, so you've already met our classmates? And teacher? Right? W-What are they like?”

  For a moment, Jacob hesitated, his fingers clenching around his backpack straps until his knuckles turned white. The easy confidence from moments before vanished like morning mist.

  “I… met a few, yes. Only a handful came so I don't know much. And the teacher… well… he's…”

  A nervous chuckle escaped him as he dodged the subject, his gaze fixed on the floor tiles.

  “I don't really know. I only spoke with him for a short while.”

  His voice dropped so low Akuma had to strain to hear him over the chaotic hallway.

  Akuma could sense something else was at play, but he wasn't one to pry. At least, not in moments like these. Still, the sudden shift in Jacob's demeanor set off warning bells in his mind.

  Reaching Room D12, Akuma paused from an unfamiliar emotion. Inside, the classroom pulsed with an energy he’d never seen before. Friends clustered in well-worn groups, their laughter and inside jokes creating an ecosystem that seemed to have been prospering for years. A paper airplane sailed from one corner to another, met with raucous cheers. Two boys near the windows arm-wrestling.

  It was almost too perfect–just like how anime made it out to be. No, it was still too soon to make that call.

  In that charged atmosphere of laughter and chatter, Jacob's demeanor shifted. His confident spark, though vibrant moments ago, had evaporated, and a heavy tension took its place. The kind of tension that made him grip his worn backpack straps even tighter as if they were a lifeline. Soon, his breathing quickened, becoming shallow and uneven.

  “Hey, you good over there?” Akuma asked softly, his concern evident as they stood before the closed door.

  His eyes widened and unfocused as they darted from face to face within the classroom.

  “Why… why is this happening? I never expected all of them to be here…”

  His words faded into the heavy silence, nearly drowned out by the classroom noise. But Akuma caught, though just barely.

  “All of them…? What do you mean?”

  He leaned closer, trying to catch Jacob's eye, but Jacob’s gaze remained fixed on someone within the classroom. Or more accurately, everyone in the classroom.

  Suddenly, Jacob's eyes darted away, panic etched into every line of his face. His skin had taken on an ashen hue, and a fine tremor ran through his hands.

  “I have to go.” He said, urgency cracking his voice like thin ice.

  “Huh?”

  Akuma's surprise was palpable as he reached out, but Jacob simply turned away, retreating back to where they came.

  His footsteps quickened, almost breaking into a run.

  With shaky fingers, he pulled out his cellphone and dialed his mother in a rushed whisper, his back pressed against the lockers as if seeking support. Or perhaps warmth.

  “H-Hey, mom… Yeah, I'm at school… Could you please pick me up? ...I–I just don't think I can do this today… It's my class… Yes, it's the exact same class… Okay.”

  The phone nearly slipped from his grasp as he ended the call.

  Noticing the escalating tension, Akuma stepped forward, his voice thick with concern. The hallway had emptied somewhat as students filed into their classrooms, leaving their conversation strangely exposed.

  “What's going on, Jacob?”

  Jacob's fists clenched at his sides as he averted his eyes, refusing to reveal the emotions brewing beneath.

  “Sorry, Akuma. I… I just can't do this right now.”

  “But why not?” Akuma tried to coax, keeping his voice low. “We haven't even met our classmates yet–”

  “I refuse to get bullied again!”

  The words tore from him like a long-suppressed scream, as if a hidden, agonizing chapter in his story had been violently unearthed. The outburst echoed in the nearly empty hallway, causing a few lingering students to turn and stare. Jacob's face flushed with embarrassment and something… painful.

  Before Akuma could press for answers, the thundering of rapid footsteps drew his attention. An older man came charging down the hallway, his tie askew and papers clutched haphazardly in one hand. It was their teacher, Mr. Allen. He was a young man in his late twenties, with tired, plain features. And untidy hair. And the dark bags under his eyes weren’t exactly helping his case. Neither was his half-tucked shirt, a clear sign of a rushed morning.

  In his rush, Mr. Allen barreled past them, colliding with Jacob and sending him sprawling onto the cold, tile floor. Jacob's hands slapped against the tiles as he tried to break his fall. His backpack skidded a few feet away and a few books spilled out across the polished floor. Pausing just outside the door to catch his breath, Mr. Allen gripped the handle of the door, not even glancing back at the student he'd knocked down.

  A surge of protective disbelief propelled Akuma forward. The hallway seemed to narrow, his focus zeroing in on the teacher's indifference. When Mr. Allen showed no sign of apologizing, his concern crystallized into something much more dangerous.

  In the blink of an eye, he lunged forward and seized the door handle, halting the teacher in his tracks.

  For a moment, Mr. Allen attempted to turn the handle anyway, but it wouldn't even budge a single inch. The muscles in Akuma's forearm stood out with the strain. Had he not been wearing the school unform, you would’ve seen his veins bulge.

  It was then that the teacher turned to the student gripping it, irritation flickering across his features before smoothing into a more professional expression.

  “Um… Is there something I could help you with?” He asked, hints of nervousness littered through his tone.

  His eyes darted to the classroom door, then back to Akuma.

  “There is actually…” Akuma replied, his voice simmered with something fierce, barely contained. “Adult or not. When you bump into someone… You're supposed to apologize.”

  Mr. Allen's eyes widened, and his hands trembled, caught by the force of Akuma's threatening, cold gaze. Something in that gaze made him take a half-step back, his confident demeanor cracking.

  “S-Sorry about that…” He stammered, leaning back to see Jacob still on the floor, gathering his scattered belongings with trembling hands. “I didn't even realize. I swear, honest.”

  The apology rang hollow in Akuma’s mind.

  As Akuma released his grip, he could've sworn that for a moment—one so quick he nearly missed it—Mr. Allen… was smirking. A subtle twist of his lips, there and gone in an instant, but unmistakable.

  A vein twitched on Akuma's brow as he grabbed the teacher's shoulder. The fabric of the man's cheap polo shirt bunched under his fingers. Then his tone hardened, dropping to a dangerous whisper.

  “What the hell was that–?”

  Before the reprimand could escalate further, Jacob interjected lightly as he pushed himself off the floor. A reddening mark showed on his palm where it had struck the tile.

  “It's alright, Akuma. It was just a careless mistake… It happens.” He said, though his voice trembled with lingering unease as he turned and began walking back down the hall, fleeing to the safety of his home.

  For a moment, Akuma glared at Mr. Allen before clicking his tongue in frustration and releasing his grip on his shoulder. When he did, the teacher straightened his tie with affected casualness, though his hands still shook slightly. And as Akuma turned to chase after Jacob, Mr. Allen couldn't help but also click his tongue.

  “So, little Miss. Trust Fund's got herself a wannabe hero now.” Mr. Allen muttered under his breath, just loud enough to be heard if someone was paying attention.

  Akuma's eyes snapped to him, narrowing dangerously. He didn't actually hear the words clearly but could sense Mr. Allen was muttering something.

  “What was that?” He demanded, sending a shiver of unease down Mr. Allen's spine.

  The hallway suddenly seemed colder, the space between them charged with tension.

  With hesitation, the teacher stammered, “N-Nothing.” as a bead of sweat trailed down his temple while he cautiously opened the door.

  For a moment, the classroom noise spilled out into the hallway. The laughter, chatter, the other sounds of normalcy that now seemed to clash against the scene that had just unfolded. Then it closed, swallowing Mr. Allen whole.

  Turning back to catch up with Jacob, Akuma couldn't shake the unsettling feeling that something was off. The almost eerie familiarity of the classroom on this first day, paired with Jacob's secretive tension and now Mr. Allen's blatant oppressive behavior. Yeah, something was definitely up.

  “Wait a sec, Jacob.” Akuma said, holding him in place by the shoulder. “What's going on? What's up with you today? You were so cheerful earlier, but the moment you saw that class, everything just went downhill–”

  “That's your problem! You can't take a damn hint!” Jacob snapped. “...Why won't you stop prying? If I'm not telling you, then doesn't that obviously mean I just don't want to?!”

  His words left Akuma momentarily speechless. His expression flickered with a mix of disbelief and frustration. Frustration at himself for not being someone Jacob could trust. Gradually, his grip loosened until it vanished completely, leaving them in a heavy silence. But just as Jacob was about to step away, Akuma broke the stillness.

  “Do you remember when I told you about that woman from my past? I told you that anytime I see someone in need, I just can't help but reach out to them…”

  With each word his voice softened, the frustration draining away.

  “I'm not as unaware as you think I am, okay? I know you don't want me to pry. I know you don't want to talk about your past… But I just can't help it...”

  He clutched the fabric of his uniform tightly, his eyes igniting with intensity as he focused on the back of Jacob's head.

  “I want to help you! …You once said to me that I'm your friend. If that's true, then please let me help.”

  Jacob turned to Akuma and for the first time since Jacob's fall, Akuma saw his face. He saw the tears streaming down his cheeks as he sniffled the leaking snot. The depravity that flickered in his eyes as memories from his past haunted back.

  “Akuma…” He said, his voice cracking with a soft sob. “I… I don't want to get bullied again.”