It was a cold, gray morning, barely illuminated by a sun that seemed to have forgotten about us. A sharp blow to my head tore me away from the little comfort sleep had given me. I opened my eyes, still disoriented, and my sister’s voice broke the silence.

  —Hey, wake up! It’s time to go study.

  I sighed, resigned, and slowly got up from the table where I had fallen asleep the night before, exhausted from endless hours of studying. A sharp pain ran through my back, a mixture of accumulated fatigue and the bruises covering my body.

  My sister, without waiting for a response, left my room and went downstairs. With mechanical movements, I put on my uniform, gathered the notebooks scattered across the table, and placed them in my briefcase. When I reached the living room, I saw her sitting at the table, eating breakfast with the same calmness she showed every morning. From the kitchen, my mother looked at me with a smile that tried, unsuccessfully, to soften the tension floating in the air.

  —Good morning, son —she said, with affection that failed to hide the concern in her voice.

  I sat across from my sister and began eating in silence.

  —Today I’m going to the school to talk to the principal —my mother announced, her tone firm like a promise—. I will not allow them to hurt you again.

  —Don’t worry, mother —I replied with a calmness that was only superficial—. I think they won’t bother me anymore. Minata’s boyfriend defended me.

  Minata’s knife, which was about to cut a piece of bread, froze in midair. Her reaction was immediate, almost violent.

  —What boyfriend!? —she exclaimed, surprised.

  —Oh, really? —my mother intervened, smiling slightly—. And who is the lucky one?

  —It’s a guy she always hangs out with —I replied, feeling the weight of their inquisitive stares.

  —He is not my boyfriend. Don’t listen to him, mother. Besides, I’d rather die than have a boyfriend.

  —Your “not-boyfriend” knows how to fight. He knocked them to the ground easily. I doubt they’ll mess with me again.

  —I’m glad to hear that, but I will still go talk to the principal —my mother insisted, unshakable.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  Time passed, and soon we found ourselves walking to school. When we arrived, we entered the classroom. While I walked to my desk, Minata went directly to hers, right beside where Takeda Kiyo was sitting.

  Kiyo, with a relaxed posture in his seat, radiated a confidence that was hard to ignore. His smile, confident and slightly ironic, seemed to be there to remind the world that he had everything under control.

  —Thank you for protecting my brother.

  Takeda slowly raised his gaze.

  —You don’t have to thank me. It was the least I could do, considering that no one else in this school has the ability to face those idiots —he replied, his tone filled with almost mocking confidence—. Besides, it wouldn’t be fair if my best friend’s brother had problems, right?

  —I hope they don’t bother him again. Yesterday they hurt him a lot.

  Takeda leaned slightly toward her.

  —Don’t worry —he replied—. As long as I’m around, no one will dare touch him. The last time someone tried something, you saw how it ended, right? —he concluded, winking at her.

  —Right.

  Ten minutes later, the teacher burst into the classroom, beginning her lesson with a routine that seemed frozen in time. Absorbed in my thoughts, I didn’t notice that the teacher was calling my name repeatedly.

  —KIRATA HIMEHIMA! I’m paid to teach, not to be ignored. So you will teach today’s lesson.

  —Of course, teacher. I’m sorry —I replied.

  I stood up from my seat, feeling my classmates’ eyes on me. When I took the chalk, the movement was automatic, almost tedious. The equation I wrote was so simple that it barely managed to keep my interest; a simple game of numbers I had already solved a thousand times in my mind.

  Just as I was about to finish my explanation, a deep crack echoed through the classroom walls. The air became dense, as if the space itself were compressing, stealing our breath. Without warning, the windows exploded with a deafening crash, and fragments of glass flew like blades through the air.

  Before the echo faded, a massive figure emerged from the wreckage. It was not a creature that belonged to this world, but something torn from the unfathomable abysses of the human mind. Its grayish skin, marked with scars, stretched over powerful muscles. Its eyes, two burning embers, shone with a malice that froze the blood. It was a presence that defied reality itself, imposing a primal terror that paralyzed everyone present.

  The alarms were ringing. In the distance, screams mixed with the cracking sound of breaking glass and the pounding of frantic footsteps. I was frozen, my eyes wide open, unable to understand what was happening. My body, trembling and covered in cold sweat, refused to obey my desperate internal pleas.

  Then I saw it—an abomination that could not be described with human words. It fixed its gaze on a nearby boy and, with a movement filled with unnatural cruelty, lifted him by the neck, bringing him close to its face to smell him, as if searching for something deep within his essence. Without hesitation, it threw him through the window with contempt, and the boy’s body disappeared into the darkness outside. That grotesque display of power unleashed chaos in the classroom. Everyone ran, prey to primitive terror, except for Kiyo, Minata, and me.

  “Why can’t I move?” I thought, trapped in a storm of panic. “Move! Run!”

  But my body would not respond, and drops of sweat slid down my forehead as the creature slowly turned toward me, its hungry gaze piercing into my being. Each of its steps echoed in my head like the sound of an unavoidable sentence.

  I was lost.