The hum of old classroom lights. The faint scent of solder and plastic. Somewhere outside, rain slid down the windows like melted glass.
Kouji liked this part of the day — the part when everyone else had gone home.
In the near-empty school, silence stretched long. He sat alone in the back tech lab, crouched beside an old projector, fingers blackened from dust and circuits. The school had long stopped replacing things properly; if something broke, they left it for him.
And Kouji didn't mind. In fact, he preferred it.
A small screwdriver danced between his knuckles as he inspected the broken wires. His other hand hovered just above the casing — not touching, but close enough to feel it. With a breath, he reached out.
The instant his palm brushed the surface, his world changed.
The device beneath his fingers cracked open, not physically — but in his mind. Its structure unraveled. Circuits turned into streams of function, screws into logic. He didn't just see the object — he understood it, inside and out.
A gift, they might've called it. But Kouji never called it anything.
It was just something he could do.
"Faulty capacitor. Too much draw from the lens motor," he muttered to no one, already replacing the part. He made no show of it. He didn't like being watched when he worked.
Besides, no one really knew. Not even the teachers.
He'd never told anyone that he could feel things this way — analyze their purpose just by touch. It didn't seem important.
Not... yet.
The sky outside had long faded to dark grey when he finally stood. The hallway outside the lab was empty, lights dimmed. He slung his bag over his shoulder and started toward the front of the school — the custodian had probably already locked up the main gate.
But halfway down the corridor, something prickled along the back of his neck.
He froze.
A noise.
Glass.
Breaking.
Sharp, like a dropped beaker, echoing faintly from the cafeteria.
Kouji's eyes narrowed. He wasn't supposed to be here this late, and no one else should've been either.
Still... curiosity outweighed caution.
He moved toward the sound.
The cafeteria was dark.
Only the flicker of emergency lights cast a sickly glow over the empty tables. Kouji stepped inside, slowly. The silence had teeth. His shoes clicked against the tile.
And then he saw it.
A man — or what used to be a man — hunched over by the vending machines. His body twitched with an unnatural rhythm. His arms were long, thin, strained under the weight of something invisible. In his hands, a kitchen knife.
No... not a knife.
It was a chair leg, warped and shining like tempered steel.
The man's face jerked toward Kouji.
Eyes wide. Mouth trembling. Skin pale and soaked in sweat. Veins pulsed black under the surface.
"It hurts... It hurts... it won't shut up..."
Kouji didn't move. His body told him to run, but his mind was still processing.
This wasn't madness.
It was something else.
The man lunged.
Kouji dove behind a table as the blade–chair–cleaved through the air. It sliced clean through the wooden bench, cutting it like paper. Sparks flew. The sound was like metal grinding metal.
What the hell is that? Kouji's thoughts screamed.
He rolled, grabbed the leg of another table, and — instinctively — touched it. His hand shimmered faintly with aura, a small blue spark, barely visible.
Without fully knowing why, he focused.
And the table leg changed.
Steel wrapped around it like liquid armor. The wooden shaft sharpened, reinforced.
He's not just analyzing, something whispered in his mind. He's... altering.
The demon-man turned again. Kouji gritted his teeth, blocked the next strike with the reinforced table, and felt the shock rattle through his arms.
The blade sparked against his makeshift shield.
Then a voice cut through the chaos.
"Duck."
Kouji dropped instantly.
A blur of movement — then a blast of pressure.
The attacker flew backward as a shockwave tore through the air. He hit the wall hard and slumped to the ground, unmoving.
Standing in the broken doorway was a tall man in a dark jacket, hand still outstretched. His posture was relaxed, but Kouji could feel it — the weight behind his presence. Like gravity bent around him.
Silver hair, eyes like sharpened glass. He looked down at Kouji.
"Interesting," he said.
Kouji stared at him, heart pounding.
"...Who the hell are you?"
The man smiled.
"I'm Ryounosuke"
"Call me Ryo"