"I hate school."
The date was the 5th of September, a Monday, and was the year's start of the second semester.
The summer break ended and was left for the whole month of August.
For each and every year, the day marks the commencement of a psychological horror story for every person who has to venture into society. Given the genre, it sure isn't the least bit likable unless for the attendee who is psychologically unstable─which directly calls upon honor students being psychopaths.
I sure wasn't.
I didn't like school that much.
But even so, I'm at the twelfth season ("second cour") of the story (assuming that a season changes annually), and am tentatively adhering to everything it offers my life with.
Prolly because it was the most hectic of all seasons under the line.
School is a waste of time and energy.
Whenever I seek out its pointlessness, I find myself in front of the school gate. The light steel is not thick enough to refer to as a reinforced barrier, and not tall enough to prevent entry and escape. Frankly, it is an accessory merely there to tag the property for something other than what can be called general public.
What I said made sense, I tell you.
If not for the crucial two reasons pushing me to attend school, I might have already dropped out.
First, it was just a crossing away.
My home is in the neighborhood of the school.
If we were to talk about convenience, it only requires me five minutes or so to reach.
I'll just have to walk past the town square. I'd circle the statue of our town's first chieftain, and then some essential shops and establishments. After the pretentious sights of renaissance homes, the campus casts its regal yet boring staircase. Like, seriously, it doesn't hold a candle against the Spanish Steps.
The second reason is entirely of obligation.
You wouldn't really expect an eighteen-year-old nowadays to not be at school.
But while that may be the case, I have a convoluted escapist behavior.
One which must mean avoiding reality by facing reality itself.
Leaving my shoe mark at the last step outside the school's territory, I officially arrived at the campus.
Upon sight was the mammoth school painted in rustic red and green, a prison enclosed in a protective barrier the council will never hide from their best student.
For the sun to cast luminosity towards its youthful population, I feel somewhat hesitant knowing Snow White's ingress would blight their ingenious playground.
Same as how I've been the center of attention these past few minutes.
Exactly beginning at the point when I stepped outside the house.
All folks in the area─their grimace unkempt to this narcissistic envoy of crestfallen dreams.
"Look out, it's Snow White…" Exclaimed one of them, and the escalation never once lost its momentum. "Kids, don't come near him. Got that?" Excuses, I beg you to make them forget that I exist instead. I'm a horribly different bitch…or so, some would say. I'm a man, but the hair does make the difference.
Who knew keeping them long, as nothing but an aesthetic choice, could gain so much attention.
Man, people are harsh.
The school didn't have a shortage of this selfsame harshness: I arrived, they recoiled. Some flinched, some stared, none could pretend I wasn't breathing the same air as them. All out of reach—heads bowed like I might hex them.
"Careful, he's the one who doesn't pray to the spirits."
"He reversed a summoning circle and enslaved someone's familiar."
"Someone saw him write in a spellbook without ink."
I huffed a sigh.
"They say he doesn't feel anything."
You see a blank face, steady voice, no bursts of fire, none the glitter nor chaos. I suppose I can say that too about myself. When all your face muscles can morph into is a resting bitch face—then it kills the mood. Everyone becomes conscious, their sense of wariness throttled when they think I'm stepped in their space.
I don't really care if they're unhappy that I exist.
Shoving all those aside, welcome to Nichiyoubi North High School.
"I hope any interesting developments don't happen."
I murmured from my seat, the bliss taking over my head down to the body.
If there was one nice development that could make me happy, it would be anyone confessing their love. I'd fancy a box of chocolates. Again, worth the sigh.
I shouldn't have uttered those words.
Because.
What came after it was a sophisticated jinx.
"This might be the second semester but, kids, here's a surprise."
A baton found itself hitting the teacher's table.
"Introduce yourself."
Cue to an exhaustive depression, Narumi Narukami called to someone and all our heads turned over the entrance door.
She walked, a girl in a small stature, about cute to pass standards at the.
Oh boy, I suppose I must calm myself down.
Else, I may have been rendered calm by her eeriness.
Along with her, a tantamount touch too negative even for the emotionless not to flinch.
Our gremlin entered the room.
Hair swaying not the captivate, but to dominate.
Whose nervous walk towards the front prompted not excitement but a bugging synthesis.
Senses brought to boil.
Anxiety heightened to enigmatic configuration.
As if looking at someone far beyond magic and machines.
Following her was the Takarabune, the eyes of six fortune deities cast upon a poor soul. It was as if she was about to get devoured, and I, or rather, the Snow White protocol, realized what was going on when it was already too late.
Fukurokuju and I stared at each other.
He snickered when I snickered, coughed a little when caught being playful by the others.
This was their game.
I didn't misremember the food I served her.
My memories may have been devoured.
"That's it, boy, remember who you are."
Godly was how he'd been classified by mankind. Fukurokuju, said as the god of wisdom and longevity, was being assertive of his words. When they indiscriminately charge anyone to talk to them, they're choosing to speak. Well, it's only one person─but you've heard of common sense.
Sigh.
As simple as the classic German fairytale, our biopic follows the same character structure.
A protagonist for a set of seven entities.
She has seven dwarfs.
I have seven gods.
Benzaiten, Ebisu, Daikoku, Jurojin, Hotei, and Fukurokuju─I'll pretend you know them as well.
Strange, there were only six of them present.
The vicarious warmonger Bishamon had his hair nor hide nowhere to be found.
I wanted to see his stern face after so long.
Having their boat seemingly occupy space in our small classroom serves enough irritation.
Guess I'll let them invade everyone's space.
I ignored him.
No use in hiding what I remember, and I've to use them as a basis for what I would do when the lull forgoes for chaos.
Snow fell in the middle of summer and time has stopped.
A certain gremlin plowed the snow and we promised to each other.
I'll pick her up and in return, she will harvest my soul.
As I had a peculiar foreboding that this woman here was the very same gremlin, our teacher─nothing but nonchalant─introduced her to us.
"Class, welcome Nayami Ayanami."