Chapter 18: The Illusion of Power
Before the world feared him, Shiro feared the world.
It was a quiet kind of suffering. The kind that wasn't loud, wasn't dramatic—just persistent. A weight that pressed down on him every single day, every single hallway, every single glance from a classmate who saw him as nothing.
Otemae Middle School had its rulers, and Shiro wasn't one of them.
He was prey.
The bullying started small. A shove into lockers, a stolen lunch, whispered insults passed around like secrets between students who thought they mattered. The ones who laughed. The ones who played at dominance.
Shiro endured it.
He told himself it wasn't that bad.
Until Ryo Kurogami set his sights on him.
"The Demon of the Hallways."
The name wasn't an exaggeration.
If Ryo wanted something, he took it. If he didn't get it, people disappeared—not literally, but socially. Their names stopped being spoken, their faces faded into the background, and their presence was reduced to nothing.
And now, Ryo wanted him.
It started one afternoon—Shiro, walking home late, his backpack slung over one shoulder, his thoughts drifting between homework and the latest anime he was watching.
Then—footsteps.
Quick. Calculated.
He barely had time to turn before hands grabbed his collar and yanked.
His back slammed against the wall behind the school gates. The rough concrete bit into his skin, his breath catching in his throat.
Ryo stood before him, head tilted, eyes cold. Behind him, two others—laughing, murmuring, waiting.
"Didn't think anyone gave a damn about you, Hoshigaki," Ryo said, his voice low, almost amused.
Shiro knew better than to speak.
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"You've been walking around like you're invisible," Ryo continued, tightening his grip. "Like nobody sees you. That's the problem, though. I see you."
Shiro swallowed, his pulse thudding against his ribs.
"Got a favor for you," Ryo murmured. "And you're going to do it."
Shiro wanted to fight back. Wanted to curse, to scream, to say no.
But fear was a leash.
And Shiro was shackled.
_"If I let them do this to me… I'll never get out of it."_
That thought latched onto his mind.
And then—he saw him.
A first-year.
Bruised.
Wounded.
Another victim—just like him.
Something cracked inside Shiro.
It wasn't anger. It wasn't bravery.
It was desperation.
"Hey! Stop it, don't do that!"
The words came out before he could think.
The reaction was instant.
Ryo turned. His grip loosened.
The first-year's eyes flicked toward him—wide, unsure, and grateful.
Shiro moved.
His fist connected with Ryo's jaw.
A moment of satisfaction.
Of power.
Then—pain.
Ryo lashed back with full force, sending Shiro crashing to the ground. His head smacked against concrete, the world spinning.
The laughter erupted.
The first year he had saved? Gone. Vanished.
And Ryo?
He wasn't smiling anymore.
"You just signed your own death sentence, Hoshigaki."
The Betrayal
The next day, Shiro didn't walk home alone.
Ryo made sure of that.
Two figures flanked him—silent, waiting.
The walk was slow. Calculated.
Every step toward an inevitable end.
They stopped near the back of the school, where the teachers wouldn't see and where the cameras didn't reach.
And there—waiting—was the last person Shiro expected.
The first year he had saved.
Daiki.
For a brief, impossible moment, Shiro felt hope.
"He came back. He… he'll stand with me."
But Daiki didn't look at him.
He looked at Ryo.
And smiled.
The betrayal didn't come in words.
It came into action.
Daiki stepped forward—hesitating only for a second—before grabbing Shiro's collar and shoving him into Ryo's waiting hands.
The laughter was deafening.
Shiro didn't fight back this time.
He didn't move.
He just… broke.
Something inside him fractured, the pieces scattering into nothing.
The Transformation
The bruises faded.
The memories didn't.
After that day, Shiro wasn't the same.
Every part of him changed—his stance, his tone, and the way he looked at people.
And most of all—his beliefs.
_"Kindness is useless."_
_"Trust is a weakness."_
_"People will always betray you."_
Shiro stopped being prey.
He refused to be a victim.
Instead, he became a monster.
And when he walked the halls again—older, stronger, colder—no one touched him.
No one laughed.
No one questioned.
Power wasn't something to be earned.
It was something to be taken.
And this time, Shiro never let it slip from his fingers.
Final Reflections in the Void
Now—after death—Shiro sees it all again.
Not as the predator.
Not as the prey.
Just as himself.
Floating in the void, watching his past play out like a broken film.
"Was this always fate?"
"Did I ever have a choice?"
"Or was the day Daiki pushed me into Ryo's hands the first step into the abyss?"
The shrine pulses in the distance.
The answer isn't spoken.
It's known.
Shiro was never meant to be saved.
Only transformed.
And now, with hatred as his only companion, he welcomes it.
