Memories of Physco

The sun beamed down mercilessly, turning the road to the academy into a shimmering path of heat and glare. A line of buses rumbled along the narrow street. From a nearby tree, a lone butterfly flitted gracefully into the air, unaware of the mechanical chaos below. It danced too close—right in front of a bus's exhaust—and was swept away in a gust of foul air. Before it could recover, a shadow loomed above it. A sole, unfeeling step ended its flight.

That shadow belonged to none other than him—our protagonist.

He glanced down at the crushed wings with a sigh. "Today's the day… The first most dangerous girl, and the second most dangerous girl, are both joining the pool activity."

He looked around and noticed two boys standing nearby, covertly flashing finger signs. Binary.

He translated in a blink.

G-I-R-L-S.

"Boys will be boys," he muttered dryly, wiping sweat off his forehead and gazing at the cloudless sky. "Damn, it's hot."

A soft hand touched his back.

He stiffened.

Turning, he was met with deep black eyes—calm, unreadable, and dangerous. A girl in a perfect school uniform stood behind him.

"You seem… very interested in divine creations today," she said, her voice quiet but cutting.

He straightened like a soldier. "N-no! I was simply appreciating the aesthetics of… of God's artistic expression!"

Before he could finish, she grabbed his collar and yanked him toward a shadowed hallway.

The air turned colder.

"I received a very special report," she whispered, her tone darker now. "It says you're involved in the paper leak incident."

She pulled out a set of documents from inside her coat.

His eyes, unfortunately, didn't look at the papers.

They looked elsewhere.

She noticed.

She leaned in slightly, expression unreadable. "Do you want to touch it?"

His mind blanked.

"…Yes," he answered with a spark of excitement, already imagining a soft, delicate feeling.

Her hand slowly reached out—only to rest firmly on his chest.

"Then let me feel it first," she said with a grin, pressing her hand inappropriately and watching his soul leave his body.

He blinked.

"…What's the big deal?" he finally muttered, slightly dizzy.

That's when her voice turned serious.

"I want everything you have… about the upcoming exam."

He glanced at her suspiciously. "That'll cost you. Information's not free."

She moved closer again, barely an inch between them. Her breath warm against his ear.

"Haruto-kun," she whispered, "can you really say no to me?"

His whole body tensed. "Y-you're threatening me… But sorry, I only fear normal girls. You're not normal. You're insane."

And then—he hugged her.

Tightly.

"If you're going to mess with me," he smirked, "then it's even now."

While he was distracted, clearly enjoying the moment, she smirked evilly, subtly raising her middle finger behind his back and pulling out a small device.

Click.

Only for her wrist to be caught mid-action.

He leaned down, whispering into her ear, "Greet me properly at your room tonight."

She froze.

"We'll have a meeting," he continued with a smile. "And I'll give you the key to success."

Then he let her go, walking off under the summer sun like a villain from a romantic thriller.

Behind him, the black-eyed girl narrowed her eyes, a smirk tugging at her lips. "Interesting…"

The heat was unbearable. Even the shadows seemed to waver in the scorching air.

Our protagonist finally found relief beneath the tall tree near the academy's back wall. The branches spread like arms, shielding him from the burning sky. He leaned his back against the trunk, the bark pressing through his shirt, grounding him in a world that felt too heated—outside and within.

His dull eyes scanned the field.

Laughter echoed, water splashed, colors moved. But none of it reached him.

Then he saw it.

The timid boy—gone.

His place stood her. The girl he claimed to love. She was smiling, blushing softly, her eyes following a tall, well-built boy with smooth words and smoother confidence.

The protagonist blinked slowly, then whispered to himself.

"A person who had purpose… is a loser."

His gaze drifted.

A few meters away stood another figure—Ayanokoji—surrounded by admiring girls. His expression was calm, detached. He neither invited nor rejected their attention.

Still… he was there, in the center. Always present, always preferred.

Our protagonist exhaled. "A person who claims to be indifferent… yet has the desire to win or lose…"

He shut his eyes briefly.

"…Is also a loser."

Silence again.

The breeze rustled the leaves above, and a butterfly—another one—flew past his shoulder, flitting upward into the sunlight.

He followed its flight lazily, and in doing so, his eyes caught a familiar silhouette walking away in the distance.

The black-eyed girl.

Her steps were quiet, steady, her figure slowly blending into the sun-glare ahead. She didn't look back.

He watched.

"…I really am a loser myself," he murmured, a hollow smile forming as he rested his head against the bark.

And still… he stayed beneath that tree. As if hoping the shade would hide him from a world that wouldn't stop burning.

The wind whispered lullabies through the rustling leaves.

Haruto laid down on the wooden bench, the shade of the trees protecting him like a forgotten god. His black coat rustled slightly with each breath. The buzzing world slowly dulled, swallowed by sleep.

Darkness gave way to green.

A field stretched endlessly, soft grass brushing against his ankles. The sky above was painted in impossible blues.

And then she appeared.

A girl, her hair the color of clear rivers, eyes glittering like stars. She smiled as she ran toward him, barefoot on the grass.

"Wait for me, Haruto! Haruto!"

But the moment cracked.

From behind her, shadows surged—figures chasing, murmuring threats.

Without a word, Haruto turned and ran.

His face contorted, fear not for the girl but for himself. His legs moved with an instinct carved in terror, not love.

He heard her scream—high, desperate.

But he didn't stop.

Not once did his eyes soften. He ran as if he didn't know her. As if she was no more than a stranger caught in his escape route.

A gunshot cracked the silence. Then another.

Still, he ran.

Through tall grasses, thorns tearing his arms. Through rivers, mud, and darkness. Until—

The jungle swallowed him.

There, under the thick canopy, he crushed an insect with his bare hand, staring at it with hollow eyes. Then, without hesitation, he brought it to his mouth.

"Disgusting… and crunchy," he murmured.

And then, he ran again.

At last, a flicker of light—hope, perhaps.

But hope came with pain.

Another bullet echoed.

Blood spilled, red and warm, soaking his side. He stumbled, a child's cry slipping through his clenched teeth.

The island around him faded—its sea bleeding red. Waves crashed like sirens, turning to rain, falling as droplets from nowhere.

Drip.

Drip.

A window appeared.

Inside, a warm light.

A woman cried, embracing a boy wrapped in bandages, holding him as if she would never let go.

"We finally found you, baby."

A man stood nearby, eyes equally wet.

But the dream didn't end there.

Not yet.

A new flame rose—an inferno licking the sky.

The scene twisted.

A battlefield. Silent now, but bloodied.

Assassins lay dead, blades shattered, poison still bubbling on blades.

From the smoke, a boy emerged—expression unreadable. His lips moved but no sound came. Something slipped from his pocket.

A photograph.

It landed on the scorched earth—face up.

The black-eyed girl.

The dream snapped—

And we return to present.

She sat in a classroom, playing on her phone, unaware.

A glass of water beside her reflected the world upside down.

And just beyond the window…

An orphanage blazed.

Flames danced like devils on a stage.

A car passed the street slowly.

Inside, Haruto watched the fire without blinking.

"Well done," he whispered.

And the glass trembled.