[Third Person Pov]
Clark was walking home with both Haruna and Komi, positioned between them as they moved along the sidewalk at an easy pace. Without saying anything, he reached out, lightly took Haruna by the arm, and guided her to the middle, while he casually shifted himself to the outer edge closest to the street.
Haruna blinked at the sudden movement, then smiled to herself, choosing not to point it out.
A small part of her felt almost resentful that she didn't live farther away, because they were already nearing her house, which meant their time together was coming to an end sooner than she would have liked.
Even with Komi there, she remained as quiet as ever, walking alongside them without saying a word, making it easy to forget she was even present if not for the occasional glance in her direction.
"Clark, the next time you decide to throw a surprise birthday party, please give us a heads up so we can actually prepare something appropriate as a present," Haruna said, turning to him with a stiff, polite smile.
Komi nodded in agreement, sharing the same sentiment.
"Huh? What do you mean the next time I decide? I had no part in that, that's the whole point of it being a 'surprise,'" Clark replied with a scoff, rolling his eyes slightly.
Haruna let out a quiet chuckle behind her hand, looking at him with mild amusement. "Yes, Clark, I already know. That was the joke."
"Oh," Clark snorted. "Well, anyways, the gift you got me is something I actually like, so for the time you had, you did a fine job."
"Thank you," Haruna muttered, a faint smile forming as she looked ahead. After a moment, she glanced back at him curiously. "You're surprisingly being really considerate and nice today. It feels almost out of character for you."
'I was literally called inconsiderate earlier, and now I'm being called considerate. Which one is it?' Clark thought to himself, letting out a quiet, internal sigh.
"Wait, what do you mean out of character? I'm always nice," Clark said, a hint of arrogance slipping into his tone. "It's perfectly in character for me."
Both Haruna and Komi nearly stopped walking altogether, their steps slowing as they turned to look at him in silence, their expressions blank.
Clark met their stares with a stiff, awkward grin. "You know, your silence hurts more than your words ever could."
That earned a quiet snicker from both of them, the two sharing the moment while Clark simply shook his head.
After a second, he casually rubbed the back of his head. "As for the reason I'm acting like this… I guess you could say I'm trying to change how I act. It might come off as awkward or weird for a while, so just bear with it until I figure out something that feels more natural."
Haruna and Komi both looked at him, their expressions softening as they gave small, understanding smiles and nodded.
To anyone else, it might have seemed like he was just trying to act more mature because it was his birthday, like he had suddenly decided to grow up overnight. But Clark knew that wasn't really it.
His role as Superman was slowly changing him, whether he intended it or not, and he could feel that change settling in deeper with each passing day. He didn't resist it. He let it happen.
With every life he saved, with every small moment he shared with strangers, something shifted. Each person he helped left behind something, even if it was small, and those pieces added up over time. In the same way he affected the people he saved, they were also affecting him.
And it wasn't just them. It was also the people around him in his life as Clark.
Before, he kept his distance from others, always maintaining a quiet barrier between himself and the world. It was easier that way, safer. But that distance had started to close without him fully realizing it. Now, he had people who went out of their way to be there for him, people who took time out of their day just to celebrate his birthday.
There had always been a reason for the way he acted. He told Miku that it was self-hatred, and that was true, but it wasn't the full picture. That was only one part of something much larger.
The real reason he was the way he was came down to something simpler, something he didn't like to acknowledge.
Fear.
Not just one kind of fear, but many small ones that had built up over the years, stacking on top of each other until they became something heavier, something harder to ignore, something that shaped the way he saw everything around him.
That fear had bled into everything.
It was the reason Clark's attitude had always been so unpleasant, the reason he kept people at arm's length, the reason his words could come out sharp, dismissive, or outright rude without much thought behind them. It wasn't just arrogance or indifference, even if that's how it looked on the surface. It came from something deeper, something he didn't like acknowledging, so he buried it under sarcasm and distance.
From the very beginning, the moment he realized what he had become, nothing felt stable anymore.
He hadn't just been reborn into another life. He had been reborn as a fictional character, and not just any character, but Superman.
That alone was enough to shake him.
There were moments, especially early on, where he genuinely questioned whether anything around him was real. Whether the people he spoke to, the places he walked through, the life he was living, were all just constructs of his own mind. A dream he couldn't wake up from, or worse, something forced onto him by something or someone he couldn't see or understand.
The idea that none of it was real lingered in the back of his mind longer than he liked to admit.
Even when he started accepting that it was real, that didn't make things better. It only replaced one fear with another. Because if this world was real, then that meant he was real. And if he was real, then that meant Superman was real. And if Superman was real, then everything that came with that name fell onto him.
That was where the weight truly started to settle in.
Superman wasn't just a person. He was an idea, a symbol, something people looked up to, something people depended on. He was expected to be strong, to be kind, to always do the right thing, to save everyone, to never fail. Clark understood all of that better than anyone, and that was exactly why it terrified him.
Those expectations didn't just come from the world around him. They came from himself as well. Even if he never said it out loud, even if he tried to pretend he didn't care, he still held himself to that same impossible standard. And he knew, deep down, that he wasn't that person, or at least, he didn't think he was.
What would happen if he failed? What would happen if he couldn't live up to what Superman was supposed to be? What would happen to the people who depended on him, to the world that expected something from him that he wasn't sure he could give?
That fear of failure sat heavier than anything else. Failing as himself was one thing. Failing as Superman meant something else entirely. It meant consequences that didn't just affect him, and that was what he couldn't ignore.
So instead of facing it, instead of confronting it head-on, he did what was easier. He turned that fear inward.
He hated himself for it. He hated the fact that he was afraid, hated the fact that he doubted everything, hated the fact that instead of stepping up without hesitation like Superman was supposed to, he questioned it, resisted it, resented it. To him, that made him a coward.
And because he saw himself that way, he acted accordingly.
He lashed out, pushed people away, and kept his distance. He made himself difficult to deal with, unpleasant to be around. If people stayed away from him, then he didn't have to deal with the pressure of getting close, didn't have to worry about failing them, and didn't have to face the expectations that came with being someone they could rely on.
At the same time, he fell into a different kind of mindset. He saw himself as a victim—a victim of circumstance, a victim of something he never chose, a victim of being forced into a role he didn't ask for. Reincarnation, powers, responsibility, all of it had been handed to him without his consent.
So in his mind, that justified it. If he was a victim, then his reactions made sense. If he was a victim, then he didn't have to fully take responsibility for how he acted.
But that way of thinking had only kept him stuck.
Because no matter how much he tried to frame it that way, the reality didn't change. He was still here. He was still Superman. And people still needed him.
That was something his role had slowly started forcing him to confront. Not all at once, not in some sudden realization, but piece by piece. Every person he saved, every interaction he had, every small moment where someone looked at him with relief instead of expectation, it chipped away at that mindset and made it harder to ignore.
Those moments felt real. They didn't feel like a dream, or an illusion, or something forced onto him. They felt grounded, intimate, and undeniable. And so did the people in his life as Clark.
Spending time with them, walking home like this, having conversations that didn't revolve around saving the world or living up to some impossible ideal, gave him something else to hold onto. Something simpler. Something human.
When he really thought about it, when he stripped everything else away, his situation could be broken down into something more basic. It was like waking up one day and finding yourself somewhere completely unfamiliar, in a place you didn't recognize, in a body that didn't feel like your own, surrounded by people you didn't know, with no resources, no understanding of how things worked, and no way to support yourself on your own.
Forced to rely on someone else just to survive.
That kind of situation would shake anyone. It would make anyone defensive, uncertain, and afraid. And maybe, for the first time, Clark was starting to realize that his reaction to it hadn't been entirely unreasonable.
Flawed, yes. Misguided, definitely. But not entirely unjustified.
The difference now was that he wasn't stuck there anymore. He wasn't as helpless as he once felt, and little by little, he was starting to accept that maybe he didn't have to keep seeing himself as a victim of it all.
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