Kaito groaned as he sat up in bed, every inch of his body aching like he’d been hit by a truck. It wasn’t the pain that annoyed him—it was the weakness. He had fought through worse injuries before, but this body was frail, sluggish. Every bruise was a reminder that he wasn’t who he used to be.

  His room was small and unremarkable, a desk covered in scattered notes and an old gaming console in the corner. None of it felt familiar. He had no attachment to this life, no memories to cling to.

  This kid was weak. A nobody. And now I’m him.

  He exhaled, rolling his shoulders before dragging himself to his feet. The uniform waiting for him—a wrinkled shirt and bzer that barely fit—felt more like a costume than real clothes. But if he had to py the role of a student, so be it.

  By the time he reached school, the courtyard was already packed with students milling about in their usual morning routine. Some leaned against lockers, chatting in small groups. Others rushed past, half-awake, trying to beat the first bell.

  Kaito kept his head down, hands stuffed in his pockets as he walked through the crowd. He wasn’t interested in any of them, and they weren’t interested in him. Or at least, that’s how it had always been. But something was different today. He could feel their eyes on him—curious, hesitant, like they were trying to figure out an unfamiliar puzzle.

  Did the old Kaito really leave this little of an impression?

  He made his way to his shoe locker, twisting the dial to open it, only to pause. Something was off. A split-second dey in how the door moved, the faintest resistance—

  A sharp thud. A crumpled note fluttered to the ground.

  Kaito bent down and picked it up. The handwriting was messy, rushed.

  Stay out of sight. You don’t belong here.

  He stared at the words for a long moment before exhaling through his nose. Threats? This early in the day?

  He crumpled the paper in his fist and shoved it into his pocket.

  It didn’t matter.

  Kaito wasn’t here to make friends. He wasn’t here to py along with whatever sad existence the old him had. He was here because, for some reason, he was still alive. And if that was the case—then he’d live on his own terms.

  Ignoring the lingering stares, he pulled out his shoes, changed them, and walked into the school without looking back.

  Csses were dull, dragging on as teachers droned about subjects Kaito barely cared for. The body he was in retained some of the knowledge from before, but he had no real interest in it. The only thing he focused on was the people around him—how they moved, how they whispered.

  He wasn’t paranoid. He was experienced. And experience told him that something was off.

  Lunchtime came, and Kaito wasn’t in the mood for a crowded cafeteria. He wandered the halls, searching for a quiet pce, when he heard voices—low, menacing.

  “Didn’t think you’d show up today.”

  He turned a corner and came face to face with three students blocking the hallway. The stocky one in the middle smirked, hands in his pockets. The other two fnked him—one tall and wiry, the other built like a walking brick.

  “You got a message this morning, didn’t you?” the tall one said. “Smart thing to do would be to listen.”

  Kaito sighed. “Yeah? And what happens if I don’t?”

  Brick cracked his knuckles. “Then we make sure you do.”

  They stepped forward, but Kaito wasn’t about to fight in an open hallway. He turned, shoving open the nearest door—a storage room.

  Dim lighting. Racks of mops, buckets, cleaning sprays. A perfect battlefield.

  The bullies followed, ughing. “Running already?”

  Kaito smirked. “Not quite.”

  Stocky lunged first. Kaito grabbed a mop, snapping the wooden handle over his knee into two jagged halves. The first piece he used to parry the swing, the second he drove into the bully’s stomach, making him double over.

  The tall one cursed and charged, only for Kaito to grab a can of disinfectant and spray it directly into his eyes. The guy shrieked, stumbling back, hands cwing at his face.

  Brick hesitated. Kaito grabbed a full mop bucket and kicked it forward. Dirty water spshed across the floor, making Brick lose his footing. He slipped, arms filing—just in time for Kaito to swing the broken mop handle like a bat, smashing it across his ribs.

  Brick hit the ground with a thud, groaning.

  Kaito rolled his shoulders, stepping over them. “Next time, tell whoever sent you that I don’t scare easy.”

  Leaving them coughing and groaning in the mess of cleaning supplies, he walked out of the storage room, shaking the excess water off his hands.

  Whoever wanted him gone had just made a serious mistake.