I breathe hard and drop to the ground, bent over. I actually did it. I ran all the way to the slum.
My transformation wore off on its own, which is good. Walking around looking like some freak isn't exactly ideal, especially in this area. Even more so if Miracle Inc. is after me.
I don't even know what I'm supposed to tell my mom.
"Heh."
A small, bitter laugh slips out as I look down.
Then the thought hits me. If some monster went home in my place and just said, "Hi, Mom," she probably wouldn't even notice.
Now that I've finally had a chance to calm down, I can think straight again.
Crap. It's already dark.
Not that I mind. I love the night. I especially love late night walks. The night sky, the stars, the moon, the city lights, the neon signs lighting up the slums' "business" district. It makes everything else fade into the background for a while. Nothing relaxes me more than a late night walk. Honestly, it's probably my favorite way to cope. The worse school gets, the more I sneak out at night. Every day I leave a little earlier and stay out a little longer. If it were up to me, I'd spend the whole night outside.
I look around carefully as I enter the business district. The second I step off the dark road, neon and yellow light crashes into me. It's so bright it almost feels like daylight for a second, enough to blind me and cover up the ugly truth under all that glitter.
The buildings under all those lights and billboards are a mess. Most of the paint has peeled away. The outsides are falling apart. Brick, metal, wires, everything is exposed.
I keep walking past the alleyways. Homeless people lie in the streets on torn-up cardboard, using it as makeshift mattresses. Mostly bearded old men. They look high out of their minds, barely conscious. Dozens of syringes and empty bottles are scattered around them.
I keep going. In an ideal world, I'd be homeless too, just spending all my time outside.
Sadly, we do not live in an ideal world.
Being outside in the slums is genuinely dangerous, especially at night. The gangs. The human traffickers. The Blessed looking for their next victim. Everyone around you is just waiting for a chance to devour you. Which sucks, because it means I can never really fully relax. I have to stay alert all the time. Trust me, you do not want to get caught off guard in a place like this.
I glance around one more time, then slip into a dark alley, leaving the glittering business district behind. When I come out the other side, three huge, decaying skyscrapers rise in front of me, almost completely swallowed by darkness. The only light comes from a few billboards hanging off the buildings.
It's kind of ironic. They have enough electricity to run ads, but apparently turning the power on inside the building is too expensive, even if it's just for a few corridors.
I head for the middle building, the one with the big ad. That's where I live.
A passed out hobo is lying next to the entrance, not moving. Maybe dead. I ignore him. I know better than to pry in a place like this. I open the door and step into the pitch black building.
Home sweet home.
I've learned to move through these dark corridors and stairwells without sight. At this point I don't even carry a flashlight anymore. I have the whole layout mapped out in my head. Every step, every nook and cranny is clear as day to me.
I make my way down the corridor. My eyes can't see a thing, but I can still picture it perfectly as I pass the decrepit doors, the cracks in the walls, the dirty peeling paint. I stop in front of one door.
Knock.
Nothing.
Figures.
I pull out my key and slide it into the darkness.
Bingo. Right into the keyhole on the first try.
"Heh. That's sixteen times in a row now."
I've gotten so used to navigating this building in complete darkness that going blind probably wouldn't make much difference here.
Well. At least not in my immediate surroundings.
I put my hand on the doorknob, but before I open it, I sigh.
A sad thought hits me.
Over the course of my life, I've developed two main skills.
One: I can navigate my own building in pitch darkness. Though I guess that isn't that surprising, considering we don't have electricity.
Two: I can read Yashiro's emotional state perfectly from the tiniest changes in her expression.
What the hell am I even doing with my life?
I have the most useless, embarrassing skill set imaginable. Imagine actually putting that on a job application.
With that thought, I press down on the doorknob and step inside the apartment.
It's a small, cozy two room flat. At some point, it really was a nice family apartment, painted in pleasant colors and newly renovated. Now the paint is peeling, and small cracks are starting to spread through the walls. Dark/yellow stains cover the ceiling.
Mold.
Nothing we can really do about it. You can bleach it all you want and it'll be back a month later. Must be the humidity or something.
The apartment is mostly dark. The only light comes from a couple of dim battery operated table lamps. The brightest glow spills out from the living room, where my mom is sitting on the couch watching TV. The flickering light drags across the walls as I pass her.
"I'm home."
Mom keeps watching TV without giving me any sign she heard me, so I ignore her too and head for the kitchen. I dig through the counters, but there isn't much there. Half stale bread, butter, and salt.
Oh God. A pandwich for dinner again.
A pandwich is what I call a bread and butter sandwich seasoned with salt. Basically a poor person's sandwich. It sounds awful, but honestly, it doesn't even taste that bad as long as you don't oversalt it.
I take my pandwich and go to my room. I don't bother checking the fridge. I already know there's nothing there.
I sit on my bed and eat quietly in the dark.
I know that sounds depressing, but honestly, it isn't that bad. For once, I'm safe. For once, I'm at peace. I can actually relax here. I don't have to stay on guard all the time. My room is kind of my safe space. The only place in the world where I feel at ease.
I'm so nervous at school that I can't eat there. Ever since I enrolled, I've lost a lot of weight. I was never chubby or anything, but I at least had some meat on my bones. A decent figure. Now I'm all bones, skinny as a feather. Then again, that's not surprising when all I eat is a pandwich for breakfast and a pandwich for dinner. That's nowhere near enough food to keep a person going. It's getting serious enough that I'll have to find some other way to get food, or I'm going to end up with serious health problems soon.
Or will I?
Now that I think about it, I'm tired. Really tired. Tired of school, tired of the apartment, tired of my mom.
My mom. That's a whole other problem.
She isn't abusive or anything. She just basically ignores me as if I don't even exist. I guess that's better than being tormented, but it also means I'm by myself twenty four seven.
Then I realize something deeply disturbing.
Yashiro bullying me is the only time I get to talk to another human being.
Do I actually enjoy being bullied? Do I look forward to it every day?
"No, no, no. What the hell am I even thinking?"
I slap my cheeks to snap out of it.
For a second, I imagine walking through the school halls and having Yashiro and the others completely ignore me when I pass by.
My heart drops.
No. That can't be.
Am I really that desperate for human contact?
I remember earlier that day, after I jumped into the trash, how relieved I felt when the girls finally walked away from me. But deep down, in my heart, I felt really shitty. I wanted them to turn back. I wanted them to stay with me longer. It didn't matter if they laughed at me, threw things at me, or called me names. I didn't care. I just didn't want to be alone.
I start to feel suffocated. Sitting alone in a pitch dark room with nothing to do and no one to talk to is finally getting to me.
Without even thinking, I get up and head for the living room.
I need to talk to someone right now. I don't even know why. I just do.
I step into the living room and stand next to my mom, who's still sitting on the couch, not reacting to me at all. I turn to the TV. She's watching one of those mind numbing Indian harem shows. I have no idea how anyone in their right mind can sit through even half an episode of that crap without going insane. The show is so bad it could probably be used as a form of torture.
It's about some super rich sultan, or whatever they're called. He has his own harem where all his wives live. The whole plot is just women scheming and competing with each other for the rich guy's attention and favor.
Seriously, one of the stupidest and least interesting storylines I've ever heard of.
I mean, what's so hard about seducing a guy? All you have to do is take your clothes off. You don't even have to get fully naked.
(Has never seduced a guy before.)
I must've started frowning, because my mom, like she somehow read my mind, says,
"Helps you take your mind off things."
I just nod and keep watching the TV show. Or more specifically, I stare at the TV itself, because I find the object more interesting than whatever it's showing.
And we stay like that for God knows how long.
Both of us staring at the TV.
Not saying a word.
I look back at my mom. As the light shifts across her face, I notice faint lines on her forehead. I have no idea how old she is, but she doesn't seem old enough to have wrinkles. Probably got them from working so hard all the time. I don't know what she does, but I know she works hard to provide us with the little we have. I've never met my father. I don't know who he is or where he is, so all the burden falls on my mom. I can't really blame her for wanting to unwind after working that hard instead of making conversation.
I stand there a little longer, pretending to watch TV, until the words just slip out.
"I can't do it anymore."
Mom raises an eyebrow.
"I mean school," I add quickly, before she gets the wrong idea.
She looks back at the TV.
"Gonna quit?" she asks without looking at me.
I rub the back of my neck.
"Nah. I just want to take a couple of days off to unwind. You know, we just had the testing period, and it's been really stressful, so I thought it'd be good to relax and take it easy for a couple of days, while I still can."
Mom nods. "Suit yourself."
I lied. We haven't had our testing period yet, but I feel so suffocated here and at school that I need to get away. I need some fresh air before I do something I'll regret.
I grab my sleeping bag and head outside.
"Bye, Mom. I'll be back in a few days," I say as I leave the apartment.
Silence. No response.
I don't let it get to me. I'm excited for my little adventure. Besides, spending the next few days in peace, just chilling by myself, sounds pretty great.
I already know where I'm going: the balcony.
Technically it's communal property, but nobody really uses it, so it's basically my own private room. I even installed a lock on it a while ago.
Obviously, I would've taken it off had anyone complained. But it's been a while, and I haven't heard a peep. Maybe they think the administration closed it off, or that it isn't safe, or something.
Whatever the reason, nobody said a word.
Earlier, I implied that my room was my favorite place in the world, but that was a lie. My real favorite place is this balcony. Why did I lie? Because it's a secret. A secret I'm trying to keep even from myself, scared that if I slip up and blurt something out, I'll get found out and lose the only place in this world that gives me any peace.
I quietly step onto the balcony and carefully lock the door behind me.
Phew. Safe.
Relief washes through me. I lean against the railing and look out at the view.
The dark night sky stretches all the way across the horizon. A sickle moon hangs in one corner. A few stars are scattered around it, shining against the deep dark behind them. I actually like it better when there are only a few stars out. They stand out more. Look prettier.
And of course, there's Miracle City, shining as bright as ever and making the whole view even better. Miracle City glowing at the bottom, the dark sky in the middle, and the stars and moon at the top. Makes for a pretty nice contrast.
I stand there for a few more minutes, just taking it all in, before I finally decide to call it a day.
I unroll my sleeping bag and lay it on the floor. It isn't the cleanest place, but I did my best to tidy it up. I covered the floor with cut up cardboard from pizza boxes, making a weird-looking makeshift carpet. Then I wriggle into my sleeping bag and tuck myself in.
Lying on my back, I can clearly see the night sky above me, with its moon and stars. That's my favorite part of sleeping on the balcony.
As I stare up at the stars, the events of the day run through my head. The bullying. The trash. The class. The centipede. The transformation.
It's a lot to take in.
What a day, huh?
I close my eyes and mutter, "Good night, Yurui."