As the pain in the back of my head slowly consumed my fading consciousness, a thought suddenly crossed my mind.

How did things end up like this…?

When I was in elementary school, everyone called me a genius.

Now, adults call me a failure, and people my own age treat me like a nuisance.

The way people see me now is almost the complete opposite of how they saw me back then.

But as far as I’m concerned, I haven’t changed at all.

I just like doing things that are fun.

Back in elementary school, learning new things was exciting.

Looking back now, I studied to an almost abnormal degree.

By the time I entered fifth grade, I had already taught myself material that high school students would normally study.

If I had kept going down that path, I might have become a scholar.

The event that brought my life as a study fanatic to an end happened during a fifth-grade math class.

The teacher wrote a problem on the blackboard and asked, “Who knows the answer?”

I raised my hand.

Apparently, no one else knew the answer.

Feeling just a little superior, I deliberately solved it in a more complicated way by using substitution formulas with x and y—concepts we hadn’t even learned yet.

I confidently returned to my seat, waiting for the teacher to praise me.

Instead, she drew a big red X over my solution with a piece of red chalk.

At that moment, my head was filled with nothing but question marks.

I had already confirmed that the answer was correct, whether solved mentally or through another equation.

I had simply used an advanced substitution formula to show how smart I was.

There was no way it could be wrong.

Then I heard the teacher say something I could hardly believe.

“Kamino Kanno, that’s incorrect because you used formulas we haven’t learned yet.”

Snickers spread throughout the classroom.

I couldn’t accept being laughed at when my answer wasn’t even wrong, so I argued back.

“But you never said we had to use the textbook’s method!”

“I didn’t say it because it should have been obvious.”

“Anyone with common sense would understand that.”

“But if you think about it normally, isn’t math about getting the right answer?”

“Who cares what method you use if the answer is correct?”

“Haa…”

The teacher let out such an exaggerated sigh that even a child could tell she was thinking, ‘What a pain.’

“Fine.”

“From now on, if you don’t use the textbook’s method, I’ll mark it wrong.”

“So solve the problems exactly the way the textbook shows.”

“I’m sure everyone else already understands something this obvious without being told.”

“But since there are students who don’t understand, I’ll say it again.”

“Make sure you solve everything according to the textbook.”

Then the lesson resumed.

I was irritated by the laughter and whispered insults around me.

Even now, I still remember how, in that instant, I stopped caring about everything.

More than anger, what I felt was disappointment in adults.

Disillusionment.

Contempt.

After that incident, people started picking on me more and more.

To put it simply, I had become a target.

Even so, the only thing I lost was my interest in studying.

I think that was because, no matter how the teachers or everyone else treated me, I still had friends who never changed.

After I quit studying, I started spending all that time playing with my friends instead.

Some time later, I entered sixth grade.

By then, some students had already begun studying for entrance exams to private middle schools.

Of course, I had no intention of going to a private school.

Even though it had already been about six months since I stopped studying, I was still ranked first academically.

Well, my report card wasn’t exactly great.

No matter how smart I was, the students preparing for entrance exams were all attending cram schools.

After that math class, everyone except my few close friends avoided me.

I never imagined anyone would ask me to teach them.

Then something completely unexpected happened.

It was about a week before summer vacation.

I was changing into my shoes at the shoe lockers while making plans to hang out with my friends.

A girl seemed to have been waiting there for me.

“Kamino-kun.”

“Please teach me during summer vacation!”

“Huh?”

Having someone suddenly ask me to teach them caught me completely off guard.

I’d never even been in the same class as her.

“I know it’s strange to ask someone who’s never even been in the same class as me.”

She smiled awkwardly.

Still, she didn’t seem ready to give up.

“Um… I’m Yokoyama Kanade.”

“Please teach me.”

Even though we’d never shared a class, I knew who she was.

She was a fairly popular girl.

As a teenage boy, I felt happy.

At the same time, I was suspicious.

“Even if you’re asking me… what’s in it for me?”

I acted as indifferent as possible so she wouldn’t notice how pleased I actually was.

Besides, I wasn’t nice enough to do it for free.

“I can’t pay you…”

“But if I get into my first-choice middle school…”

“I’ll grant you one wish.”

“As long as it’s something I can do.”

Was it really okay to say something like that to a teenage boy?

Still…

I’d gotten her promise.

“Don’t you dare forget that!”

And just like that, I started studying again for the first time in a long while.

Three days a week.

From morning until curfew.

Sometimes at my house.

Sometimes at the Yokoyama residence.

Sometimes at the library.

At first, I was excited about studying alone with a cute girl.

But after seeing how seriously Yokoyama studied, I found myself getting fired up too.

Those days continued.

As summer vacation was nearing its end, Watanabe—the classmate who had always been picking on me—was waiting outside my house.

“Come with me for a minute.”

“No.”

“It’s almost curfew.”

There was actually about an hour left until curfew.

I just lied because I didn’t want to deal with him.

The next thing I knew, he punched me.

I hadn’t gotten into a fistfight since kindergarten.

Yet somehow, I punched him back without even thinking.

Since we were just elementary school kids, it probably looked like a pathetic little scuffle to anyone watching.

But somehow…

It was fun.

Once my eyes adjusted to the pace of the fight, it quickly became one-sided.

I was the only one landing hits.

Then it suddenly became boring, so I stopped.

Even though he was the one who started it, Watanabe burst into tears.

I left him there and went home.

The next day, Watanabe was waiting outside my house again.

“Come with me for a minute.”

“I told you yesterday.”

“It’s almost curfew.”

“What?”

“Scared?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m terrified.”

“Watching someone start a fight, get beaten up, and then cry their eyes out is seriously scary.”

“You bastard!”

His face turned bright red as he charged at me.

Before he could hit me, I punched him in the stomach.

Watching him double over while desperately trying not to cry made me lose all interest in continuing.

I left him there and went home.

After that, he apparently learned his lesson.

He started bringing friends.

Then older students.

The opponents kept getting stronger.

It was almost like playing a game.

I had a great time.

Maybe it was Watanabe’s pride, but even when he brought reinforcements, they always fought me one-on-one.

Bare-handed, too.

He really was a strange guy.

To begin with, I didn’t even know why he had picked a fight with me.

But looking back, I think I was actually grateful to him.

It was the most fun I’d had since the days when I was obsessed with studying.

After that, it wasn’t just Watanabe.

If anyone picked a fight with me, I accepted.

Some people even came at me with iron pipes or knives.

Others attacked in groups.

Somehow, I managed to survive without suffering any major injuries.

Eventually, people started labeling me a delinquent.

Even so, I went to school every day.

I attended class and behaved reasonably well.

I just happened to enjoy fighting.

Honestly, I didn’t care what everyone else thought.

I still had friends who never changed.

That was enough.

Besides, fighting almost every day sharpened my ability to judge people.

Well…

The only thing I could really judge was how strong someone was.

Out of the five friends who stayed close all the way through middle school, four ended up attending different high schools.

The only one who entered the same high school as me was Hayato—the guy who had spent all those years fighting alongside me.

By the middle of my third year of middle school, there weren’t many strong opponents left.

Fighting had become boring.

By the time I graduated, I hardly fought anymore.

Still, because I’d spent so much of middle school fighting, seniors who loved brawling or cared about hierarchy kept approaching me.

Everyone else stayed away.

But Hayato was there.

So I figured high school would probably be fun too.

Having a best friend really is great.

Or so I thought.

That incredibly long flashback had made me forget my anger.

But now I remembered.

No…

Maybe this was still part of the flashback.

As my consciousness faded, it felt as though I were being swallowed by black mist.

The night before my first summer vacation as a high school student, Hayato called me out.

I headed to our usual meeting place—an abandoned building—with almost nothing on me.

I stepped through the broken gate and entered the property.

For a brief moment, something felt off.

But I didn’t think much of it.

I opened the building’s door and walked inside.

We usually used the second room from the entrance.

It was the least run-down one.

The moment I entered, the door behind me slammed shut.

It wasn’t an automatic door.

And I definitely hadn’t closed it myself.

But instead of worrying about that, I lost my voice when I saw the man sitting behind the desk directly in front of me.

He was a notorious senior.

If anyone defied him, he’d beat them half to death and even target their families afterward.

I’d gone out of my way to avoid him.

So why was he here?

“Well, well, Kamino-kun.”

“I hear you’ve been getting a little full of yourself lately.”

“Uh…”

Actually, I’d been keeping a low profile lately.

Not that I was about to say that.

“It’s fine.”

“You haven’t caused me any direct trouble yet.”

“So I’m willing to overlook it.”

“…”

“So bring me twenty thousand yen every week.”

“I’ll collect it every Monday, so don’t forget.”

“Huh?”

“Um… I don’t have that kind of money.”

“That’s strange.”

“Lying isn’t good, you know?”

“I’m not lying—”

“I’ve heard you’re already working a part-time job.”

“And that necklace you’re wearing cost around fifty thousand yen, right?”

“If you can afford that, then you shouldn’t have any problem.”

I could understand how he’d found out about my part-time job.

Someone might have seen me.

But how did he even know how much this necklace cost?

Maybe my confusion showed on my face.

The senior jerked his chin toward my side.

Standing there was Hayato.

His hands were pressed together apologetically.

“Sorry.”

I couldn’t make sense of any of it.

Had the guy I believed was my best friend sold me out?

“He caused a little trouble in my territory.”

“When I questioned him, it turned out he hadn’t known.”

“So I figured I should give him a chance.”

“I told him to show me his sincerity.”

“And he introduced you.”

“Huh?”

“That’s not a very polite way to speak.”

“But I understand.”

“According to him, you’re the kind of friend who would gladly take his place.”

“If that’s really true, then your friendship is admirable.”

“And the fact that he could shamelessly take advantage of that friendship…”

“Even I was surprised.”

“No…”

“It was entertaining.”

“So I forgave him.”

“What about you?”

I couldn’t fully process what was happening.

My brain refused to accept reality.

But my instincts screamed that I had to act immediately.

If I hesitated, there would only be a bad ending.

No…

No matter what I chose, every ending led to disaster.

I had no intention of paying him.

Nor was I going to sell out any of my other friends.

I carefully observed the senior.

In a one-on-one fight, I could probably beat him.

But besides him and Hayato, there were four other guys in the room.

From what I could tell, the senior was the strongest among them.

But there was no way they’d politely fight me one at a time.

There was no chance I could beat this many people.

“You’d better not do anything unnecessary.”

“I have absolutely no intention of fighting you.”

“But if you insist on doing things your way…”

“You already know how I deal with people.”

“…”

“First, your little sister—”

No.

There’s only one thing to do.

I have to kill him.

I ripped the watch off my left wrist and wrapped it around my fist as I charged forward.

If I could just break through those four…

I could kill the senior.

Their reactions were uneven.

As long as I knocked each one out in a single hit, I could deal with them one at a time.

The first one.

I planted my left foot, threw my body forward, and slammed my right fist into his cheek.

I felt the heavy rings on my index and middle fingers sink into his face.

Without even checking whether he’d gone down, I tried to regain my balance.

Then an enormous impact exploded across the back of my head.

I instinctively tried to look behind me.

Instead, I collapsed onto the floor at an awkward angle.

Even so…

I managed to see who had struck me.

Hayato.

He stood there holding an iron pipe stained with fresh blood.

He grinned.

The moment my flashback caught up with the present, all feeling vanished from my body.

I realized…

I was going to die.

The panicked voices around me grew farther and farther away.

So even that insane senior panics when someone actually dies.

At least now…

He probably won’t hurt my little sister Ayumi or my parents.

Thinking about it that way…

Maybe this was the least terrible ending I could have hoped for.

Even as my consciousness continued to fade, my anger toward Hayato kept growing.

As I felt myself being swallowed by black mist, the only thing I could hear anymore was a harsh static…

Like the snow on an old television screen.