Early next morning, father and son sat at the dining table eating a simple breakfast while watching the morning news on TV. Unsurprisingly, the hottest topic remained the "light screen" incident that had shrouded the globe.
The news anchor reported in a clear, serious tone: "...Regarding the so-called 'doomsday' rumors circulating online, relevant departments have verified them as false information. Citizens are urged not to panic, and to refrain from believing or spreading rumors..."
Then, the screen cut to several experts and scholars who had been mentioned in the light screen as having been "silenced." They appeared on camera now, looking energetic and righteously refuting the light screen's content.
"It's complete and utter fiction! I've been working normally at the research institute; the so-called'silencing' is pure nonsense!" an indignant professor wearing gold-rimmed glasses said.
"The light screen's content is highly misleading and harmful. Everyone should believe in science and trust information from The Authorities," another female scholar added.
What made Kuchiba Hiro's eyes narrow slightly was seeing Yota Yukinoshita—the "mastermind" who had caused his father's death in the light screen—appearing in the news footage. He was dressed in a well-tailored suit, his expression carrying a perfectly measured amount of helplessness and grievance, as he spoke into the microphone:
"I am just an ordinary private entrepreneur running a small construction company. I abide by the law and pay my taxes. The accusations in the light screen are complete slander against me and my company. I have already instructed my lawyers to gather evidence and reserve the right to pursue legal action."
At the end of the news, there were even entertainment segments making light of the situation, inviting influencers and celebrities to discuss "What would you do if it were the end of the world?", turning the entire event into something vulgar and trivial. Naturally, Kuchiba Hiro's "special preference" exposed by his dad became a target for mockery, with the host and guests laughing uproariously.
"Pffft..." Kuchiba Ta was watching with great interest, almost wanting to laugh, but seeing his son's face instantly darken and his ears turn red, he quickly held it back and lowered his head to shovel porridge.
Kuchiba Hiro felt his face burning. He was long used to being smeared by rumors; since he was falsely accused at the age of twelve, he'd heard all sorts of nasty things. But this was different. This wasn't a rumor—it was basically the truth! This sense of public execution-like shame was harder to bear than being wrongly accused.
He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. Although it was shameful, thinking about it carefully... it didn't seem like that big of a deal?
These days, there are all sorts of weird fetishes. What's wrong with liking mature women with hot bodies? His aesthetic was perfectly normal! It was better than those weirdos who liked aliens, necrophilia, or had other twisted fetishes, right?
At least this proved his sexual orientation and taste were fine! Cuteness is worthless in the face of sexiness!
He tried to comfort himself this way, but it had little effect; the breakfast felt like he was sitting on needles.
After breakfast, Kuchiba Hiro picked up his bag to head to school. His father walked him to the door, patted his shoulder, and lowered his voice to warn him again:
"Son, remember, the more normal we act, the safer we are. The people up top are scrambling to cover up the truth, so we'll just go with the flow and pretend we don't know anything. As for your ability, don't use it unless you have to. Keep it hidden for now and don't show off. We need to keep a trump card. If some idiot actually tries something... give them a'surprise'."
Kuchiba Hiro nodded. "Understood."
He put on a mask, covering his conspicuous face completely, and headed out toward the bus stop.
On the swaying bus, people were more or less discussing the light screen. The looks cast his way were still complex, but perhaps because of the "tone" set by the news, there was less direct fear and more curiosity, scrutiny, and even a hint of mockery.
Kuchiba Hiro kept his eyes on his nose and his heart focused throughout, pretending he didn't feel a thing.
After getting off the bus, he still had a short walk to reach Sōbu High School.
While he was walking unhurriedly along the sidewalk, three boys wearing the same school uniform exchanged glances, deliberately slowed their pace, and then blocked his path side-by-side, wearing malicious, provocative smiles.
Young people are at an age of impulsiveness, aggression, and obsession with status. The pressure of survival might decrease with improved living conditions, but the biological drive for "reproductive" competition never changes.
To survive, humans need to cooperate and form groups; but to win in reproduction, they need to compete and suppress their peers to gain mating rights. This contradiction makes humans both crave approval and unable to resist attacking others.
When someone stands out, others naturally feel overshadowed and threatened. These three boys had seen the morning news and decided the light screen was fake, and that Kuchiba Hiro was just an ordinary classmate who got too much attention, either through good or bad luck.
They wanted something from him called "reproductive advantage"—simply put, they wanted to bully him and make him look bad to highlight their own "strength," filming the process as social capital to brag about.
They didn't do this out of pure stupidity. They had calculated it clearly: they couldn't lose. Kuchiba Hiro couldn't possibly kill or maim them over some verbal sparring and shoving, right?
Even if they were wrong and he was special, at most they'd get a beating, which was a physical pain they could endure. But if they succeeded and filmed a video of Kuchiba Hiro begging for mercy or getting thrashed, they'd become "famous" at school and could brag about it for a long time.
"Hey, 'Murderer,' good morning?" a tall boy said with a smirk, intentionally using the title from the light screen to provoke him.
"Why are you wearing a mask? Too ashamed to show your face?" another short, chubby boy chimed in, reaching out to rip off the mask.
"I heard you like big-chested older sisters? Tsk tsk, quite a unique taste!" the third one let out a lewd laugh.
Facing these three buzzing flies, Kuchiba Hiro stopped. His voice behind the mask was cold: "Get lost."
Hearing this blunt response, instead of backing off, the three became even more provocative.
"Oh? Acting tough, are we?"
"Do you really think you're that superhuman from the light screen?"
The tall boy said as he stepped forward and gave Kuchiba Hiro a hard shove.
Kuchiba Hiro's body swayed slightly, but he didn't budge. However, his gaze turned completely cold.
He was quickly weighing his options. Fight back? With his current strength, he could easily break their bones. But he was still within the framework of human society and its laws. Killing or injuring someone would be a major headache, and a moment's satisfaction could lead to unpredictable trouble and investigations, violating his father's advice to "keep a low profile."
While he was still thinking of the most efficient way to solve this, the three saw that he "didn't dare to fight back" and became even more arrogant. They exchanged looks and actually started getting physical! Moving from shoving to grabbing his hair and yanking his collar, their actions were full of insult.
Kuchiba Hiro looked down at the hand gripping his school uniform collar, and a sudden spark of inspiration flashed in his mind!
Who says hurting someone must involve blood? Social death... is also a kind of death!
At the moment the chubby boy tried to yank his collar again, Kuchiba Hiro moved!
His movement was so fast it left only an afterimage! His right hand, like a snake striking, accurately landed on the boy's shoulder, and then he gave what seemed like a light tug—
Riiiip—!
The sharp sound of tearing fabric was particularly jarring!
The chubby boy felt a chill. Looking down, he was stunned—his school jacket had been torn open from shoulder to chest in a massive gap, exposing the T-shirt underneath! Meanwhile, Kuchiba Hiro was holding a large piece of torn fabric.
The other two were also dazed, completely failing to see what had happened.
Taking advantage of their split-second of shock, Kuchiba Hiro's figure flashed like a ghost. He bent down and struck!
Rip! Rip! Rip!
Several more tooth-aching sounds of tearing fabric followed!
His movements were a dizzying blur!
By the time the three boys reacted, they felt a chill in their lower bodies. Looking down—
Their pants, along with their underwear, had become a pile of shredded fabric at their feet! Three pairs of pale legs and the "little birds" between them were instantly exposed to the morning air and the public eye!
"Aaaaaah—!"
After a brief, dead silence, the three let out simultaneous screams of terror and shame! They scrambled to pick up the few scraps of fabric to cover themselves, desperately clutching their vital parts with both hands, their faces turning a deep purple.
Passing students and pedestrians were stunned by this sudden scene. First there was silence, then an uncontrollable burst of laughter and exclamations!
"Pffft—hahaha! Look, look! Someone's streaking here!"
"Look, look! Isn't that Sato from the third year? His is so small!"
"Oh my god! Take a picture, take a picture!"
"Kuchiba Hiro did it!"
The "click" of phone cameras and the sound of whispering instantly surrounded the scene.
The three boys wished they could vanish into the ground. No longer caring about causing trouble for Kuchiba Hiro, they clutched their crotches and fled the scene, crying out in terror as they ran with comically awkward gaits amidst the laughter and cameras, even forgetting to pick up their bags.
Kuchiba Hiro expressionlessly straightened his slightly messy collar, as if he had just brushed off some dust. Ignoring the various gazes around him, he picked up his bag and continued walking toward school.
But after this commotion, besides "cold-blooded Murderer" and "Transcendent who likes older sisters," he would likely gain another minor infamy: "Lightning-fast pants-stripper" or something of the sort.
However, compared to getting into real trouble, this bit of "social death" seemed within acceptable limits. At least, for a while, no more idiots would dare to provoke him so easily.
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