Groups of students began to leave the room some laughing and chatting, others stopping to discuss homework with their desk mates. Only one person remained motionless amid the gradually dissolving chaos: Sakamaki Izayoi.
He sat by the row of desks near the window, eyes unfocused, looking neither at anyone nor anything in particular. One hand rested on the desk, fingers gently brushing the edge of a sealed envelope still intact with red wax. The motion was so subtle that one might mistake it as him merely resting his hand.
But Izayoi wasn't tired. He was feeling, with the very tips of his fingers, the invisible weight contained within what appeared to be a flimsy letter. Not the weight of the paper, but of the words inside words from someone he knew would never write anything without purpose.
Izayoi had yet to open the letter. He simply gazed at it for a moment longer, his eyes drifting somewhere far away, before gently lifting it with both hands. The gesture wasn't ceremonial, yet it held a rare reverence, especially from someone who usually treated life like a stage for amusement.
With a swift but unhurried motion, he broke the wax seal. The sound was soft—like a small tear in the silence that blanketed the classroom.
The paper inside was folded neatly, like a letter from a bygone century. The texture was thick and smooth, ivory white, and the ink leaned slightly to the right in a sharp, bold handwriting—disciplined yet unrestrained, much like the person who wrote it. As soon as his eyes landed on the first line, Izayoi's lips curved into a faint smile.
"Hey, little monster. Still alive and kicking? Don't tell me you got ganged up on by classmates for being too cocky in conversation. Just kidding~."
He let out a quiet snort and chuckled a smile whose meaning was unclear, whether out of genuine amusement or a wave of nostalgia welling up inside.
"You're still as lively as ever, huh..." he murmured, as if replying to someone far away or someone watching from a shadowed corner within the school's network.
Then... the tone of the next line shifted abruptly.
"...I heard Canaria passed away. An incurable illness, right?"
The words were no longer playful but gentle and quiet, like a hand placed on the shoulder. The shift in tone was so seamless, it made the entire room feel like it had dropped into stillness.
"I'm truly sorry. No words can soothe a loss like that, but I hope you know that whatever you're feeling now anger, grief, emptiness it's all natural. I mourn too because I know how dearly Canaria cared for you. And because of that, she hoped you'd live a life she never could."
Izayoi went still. His eyes narrowed slightly and the letter slipped a little in his hands, as if the words themselves had grown heavier.
The wind continued its steady whisper through the window cracks. The soft rustle of paper lingered. He tightened his grip on the letter and kept reading.
"I know you enrolled late because you had to take care of the orphanage after losing its head. And you wanted to fulfill Canaria's final wish she wanted you to attend school and try living like an ordinary teenager, with friends, with naps in class, with meaningless arguments..."
Izayoi exhaled softly through his nose. The writer's voice felt as if it was sitting right next to him coffee in hand, eyes aged but still burning with spirit.
"And that's why..." the next line was written with bold certainty.
"...I came up with this competition. Not for the school, not for the education system, but because I want to see: is there anyone in your generation who can stand shoulder to shoulder with someone who once gave major organizations a headache?"
Izayoi raised an eyebrow not out of surprise, but thought. A thin smile formed, but behind it, countless associations swirled in his mind like a matrix.
"...And one more thing..." the letter continued.
"I hear your savings are nearly gone, right?"
That line struck like a dagger not painful, but sharply accurate.
"Ever since you became the head of the Canaria Orphanage, you've had to deal with living expenses, tuition, facility maintenance... I'm sure that genius brain of yours has done the math carefully, huh...!"
A long pause left blank, as if to let the reader fill in the silence.
"So join the competition and win yourself some spending money. Twenty million points isn't a small amount. You're not the kind of person to turn down an easy opportunity like that, are you?"
"...I'll be watching to see if you still have the arrogance to come out on top in a new playing field, Izayoi."
Izayoi leaned back, his eyes closing briefly as if in thought or perhaps simply remembering things from long ago.
When the final line of the letter closed with a familiar yet cryptic blessing, Izayoi tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing as if trying to read between the empty spaces. His gaze dropped to the bottom edge of the paper, where the ink grew darker and then stopped without a period. A weightless feeling brushed past his chest, like a breath caught midway. He turned his wrist ever so slightly, letting his fingertip glide along the edge of the page before flipping it over.
As expected.
The writing continued as though the sender had deliberately left a lingering aftertaste, something incomplete, something that made it impossible to look away.
"...And finally, I have a serious request for you, kid."
Just one line. A phrase unusually formal, enough to make Izayoi unconsciously sit up straighter. But before he could dwell on the gravity of the words, the tone shattered like a water balloon—punctured, gushing forth in a signature mix of teasing and sincerity:
"Well, not exactly a 'request' more like a gentle warning from a prank-loving old man and an absurdly wise woman."
Izayoi blinked. One eyebrow lifted slightly, and the corner of his mouth curled into a reluctant smile the kind you make when someone pokes right where it stings, and you can't even argue back.
"In that little box, you'll find an item: a pocket watch. Looks ordinary. Nothing special at first glance. Except for one thing it was made by someone stronger than you and not from this world."
A sudden breeze slipped through the open window, gliding across the empty classroom and tousling the fringe on Izayoi's forehead. For a moment, goosebumps prickled his skin not from fear, but from the distinct sensation of being called out by something he'd never confronted directly... and yet, was no stranger to.
He swallowed lightly, eyes never leaving the increasingly compelling line of text.
"That watch... Canaria handed it to me a long time ago. She said: 'If one day Izayoi strays off course, wrecks the world, or tries to turn the Pope into a dried fish on the wall please use this to stop him.'"
This time, Izayoi laughed.
A short, husky, soundless laugh. His shoulders trembled slightly, as though a dam of long-held emotion had cracked open, just for a breath of lightness. Leaning back into the chair, he stared at the ceiling for a few seconds, then bent forward to continue reading.
"And now..."
the next line followed, like a nod from afar...
"...I'm giving it to you."
"Don't misunderstand. This isn't a shackle. It's... a reminder. That you were once a child raised with love, not violence. And it's also to ensure: if you intend to enter the competition, you'll play by the rules of ordinary people."
This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.
Morning sunlight slanted further into the room, the shadows shortening, as if making space for something about to begin.
On the desk, the letter lay silent. Still as a windless afternoon, but pulsing underneath with a rhythm that had begun to shift.
"I believe you won't betray Canaria's hopes. I know you can win even as a so-called 'normal person.' And if you don't just blame it on the watch. Haha."
At the very end of the letter, the handwriting tilted just a little more a final flourish from someone who was leaving, but still glancing back:
"Good luck, my boy."
Izayoi lowered the letter, his hand tightening ever so slightly, just enough to curl the edge of the paper. His gaze drifted from the letter to the small box beside it, as if only now realizing its presence. For a moment, he looked at it the way one might regard a prank—one with defined shape and a cold, silvery sheen.
"You really did it, Canaria..."
"I thought you were bluffing but you actually gave that thing to the old man..."
Not letting the grumble linger, Izayoi opened the box.
The metallic hinge creaked softly a small sound, yet sharp enough to cut through the entire space.
Inside sat a single pocket watch.
Its silver casing shimmered faintly in the sunlight, reflecting a pale, cool light. There was no chain, no velvet cushion, no symbolic ornament just a silent object, but not one to be underestimated.
Etched into the cover was a strange symbol not Latin, not Kanji, not even a common rune. It was a character born of ancient curves and heartbeats foreign to any human language system.
Izayoi picked it up.
The instant his fingers touched the cold metal, a strange sensation ran down his spine like someone had draped an invisible veil across his skin and then stroked gently along his back with something shapeless.
It didn't hurt.
It wasn't even clear.
But it was impossible to ignore.
Izayoi frowned, but didn't let go.
Instead, he rotated the watch in his hand, inspecting each detail, his eyes narrowing.
"...Compressing all of my power..." he murmured, a glint of amusement in his eyes.
"...Turning myself into an ordinary person, huh... sounds interesting."
He smiled. Not loudly, not flamboyantly. But it was a genuine smile. Like someone who had once stood atop the world, now looking down and asking:
"Is there anything left in this world to entertain me?"
He was certain that Canaria had planned this all in advance not just a few isolated steps, but an entire chain of interlinked moves arranged meticulously from the shadows, tight as the wings of a precision machine. Every detail: the timing of the letter, the messenger, the items in the box, and even the deliberately vague contents... they were all pieces of a puzzle that only truly came together in Izayoi's hands.
He let out a faint chuckle. Not sarcastic, not mocking. It was a breath of air tinged with weariness and a quiet admiration he would never admit aloud.
"...I wonder how many things she prepared behind my back..."
Izayoi spoke, as if to fill the space between himself and the pocket watch now lying in his hand—a small distance, but filled with meaning. He stared at the object, eyes reflecting something that was almost... acceptance.
A beat of silence passed.
Izayoi lowered his head slightly, his dark blond hair falling forward to obscure his eyes. His lips pressed together, jaw subtly tensed as if weighing something deeply personal. He closed his eyes not to rest, but to hear more clearly the familiar voice echoing in his memory.
"Don't become a monster. Try living like a normal human being, at least once, okay, kiddo Iza?"
A soft breath escaped his lips.
"...I understand, Canaria."
The words were spoken softly. As if he were talking to himself, or to the shadow of someone no longer here.
"I'll try living the way you hoped I would."
It was not a grand or flowery promise. But coming from someone like Izayoi, perhaps it was the greatest commitment he could make.
He slowly raised his head, and when his eyes opened, their expression had changed. No longer cold or smug, no longer bored and arrogant. In its place was a gentle glimmer soft enough not to blind, but unmistakably clear. That light wasn't just acceptance; it was a challenge. As if he were saying:
"If this is the game you want me to play, then I'll play it my way."
His voice was lower than usual, but not heavy. On the contrary, there was something almost... intrigued in his tone. As if, for the first time in a long while, Izayoi had found something that genuinely piqued his interest.
A second passed.
He let out a quiet sigh. Not a complaint just a breath, accompanied by a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, part exasperated, part a self-reminder not to expect peace for too long.
"...But if I end up beating all the first-year students even with my powers restrained..."
Izayoi lifted the pocket watch, flipping it back and forth in his palm like a toy.
"...then don't blame me."
A light statement, but one that carried layers of meaning. No longer the words of an arrogant rebel, but of someone who accepted the rules of the game... yet never abandoned his true nature.
Because even when playing the part of a normal human, Izayoi was still undeniably himself. And perhaps that was what made everything truly dangerous.
The rest of the class was still bustling about, packing up after the final math period. The sound of chairs sliding softly against the floor echoed in a steady, unhurried rhythm like a familiar ritual. Zippers rustled, books were stuffed into bags, mingled with the quiet murmur of friends chatting about homework or lunch.
Everything proceeded as usual, like any other school day after class.
...Except for one row of seats, where Gotou Hitori remained frozen in place, as if a background character who had forgotten her lines. She sat slightly turned, her back not fully facing the rear but her head tilted just enough to sneak a glance upward toward the row where Sakamaki Izayoi was seated.
Her heart beat softly in her chest. Not the pounding of nervous excitement, but the curious rhythm of witnessing something inexplicable like seeing a cat play the piano.
Hitori's pale blue eyes darted back and forth, trying not to get caught yet unable to look away from the strange boy... the one who had just stunned the entire class when the homeroom teacher personally delivered a mysterious box and a sealed letter stamped in crimson wax.
Izayoi, with a perfectly calm expression as if it were something that happened every morning opened the box, read the letter, and pulled out a silver pocket watch. And now he was idly spinning it in his hand, eyes narrowed slightly, lips curved into the faintest of smiles. A smile that... looked like he had just been challenged by the universe itself and found the idea deeply amusing.
Hitori swallowed, her throat dry. There was something about Izayoi... the way the light reflected off the watch's surface, the sharp lines of his angled jaw, and the way he sat so casually, as if the world around him didn't matter... that made it impossible for her to look away.
Gathering all her courage, she turned fully around, clutching the straps of her bag on her lap and spoke softly her voice quiet but clearer than usual:
"I... Izayoi. That... that watch... and that letter. Is there... something special about them?"
Izayoi looked up, his eyes shifting from the watch to the girl standing before him. The slanting sunlight accentuated the gentle curve of his nose and cast a faint shadow on his cheek.
Hitori felt a slight jolt like she'd just been caught doing something forbidden.
He raised an eyebrow and smiled faintly. Just enough of a smile to not be called smug, but still enough to leave the person across from him... flustered.
As if he'd just heard a question from a child so innocent it was almost cute.
"Ah, it's just..."
Izayoi paused for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he already anticipated her reaction.
"...A gift from someone I know."
"Someone you know?"
Hitori blinked, tilting her head a little. Her bangs swayed with the motion.
"Yeah, just an old acquaintance. They knew I'd be entering this exam, so they sent a little 'souvenir'."
He casually twirled his hand, and the silver watch caught the sunlight, gleaming like a fragment of a fallen star.
"They said it was... to make things harder for me."
"Eh... to make things harder?"
Hitori furrowed her brows, a clear look of confusion shimmering in her eyes.
"Yeah."
Izayoi's tone stayed casual, but this time, his eyes didn't leave the surface of the watch.
"This watch suppresses my powers."
Hitori's eyes widened. For a moment, she had no idea how to react caught between suspicion, surprise, and... fantasy.
"...Wait... like... supernatural powers?"
"Exactly."
"...You mean... like in anime? Like how Goku wears those hundreds-of-kilo weights to train?"
Izayoi let out a soft chuckle, tapping lightly on the watch face as if knocking on the door to some secret story.
"Something like that. Though... I might be even stronger than Goku, really. Just haven't had the chance to go all out yet."
He said it so lightly, so naturally like he was casually mentioning he had pork cutlet sandwiches for lunch.
Hitori, on the other hand... froze for several seconds.
"...Eh..."
She was frozen. Her brain's processor kicked into double speed: one half immediately screamed,
"He's joking! It's a joke! It's not real!"
But the other half the soft, imaginative, often delusional side that believed in aliens whispered gently:
"...But what if it's true?"
Gotou Hitori... someone who spent most of her life in her own imaginary world... suddenly envisioned a completely unreal scene:
Izayoi soaring across the sky like a shooting star, swinging his arm and unleashing waves of energy that shattered mountains and seas, roaring amidst the storm of power:
"THIS IS MY TRUE FORM!!"
And Gotou Hitori... just a normal, timid girl with a face red as a tomato, crouching in a corner and screaming in panic as the world around her exploded.
"St-s-stronger than Goku..." she whispered, her voice like wind brushing across a meadow, and her face slowly turning a soft shade of pink as if just hearing his name was enough to melt her entire emotional core.
"Haha... Y-you're just joking, right..."
Izayoi tilted his head slightly, the smile at the corner of his mouth curling just a bit more, his gaze vague and warm like sunlight filtering through a curtain.
"What do you think?"
"Prob... probably a joke... definitely a joke..."
Hitori muttered to herself, shaking her head vigorously, both hands clutching her cheeks, which were beginning to heat up uncontrollably.
Izayoi saw every bit of her reaction and let out a quiet laugh, saying nothing more.
Inside, he knew every word he'd said was true.
That watch was suppressing his power.
And if he really wanted to, the idea of "surpassing human limits" was nothing more than a casual game to him.
But Hitori didn't believe it.
Or rather... she couldn't allow herself to believe it.
Because believing it would mean accepting that the boy sitting next to them in class wasn't just a brilliant or eccentric student...
...but something entirely different.
"Well... letting everyone think that might not be so bad."
Izayoi thought to himself as he leaned back in his chair, eyes half-closed, the smile still lingering on his lips a faint curve like a well-guarded secret.
Maybe living like a "normal person"...
starts with little misunderstandings like this one.