I grabbed the towel hanging by the bathroom door and slipped inside to freshen up. The Awakening Ceremony was probably the most anticipated event of every school year. It was the one day that could turn an ordinary student into someone worth remembering... or remind them just how ordinary they really were.
I freshened up in quick record time and headed towards my cramped closet, pushing aside hoodie after hoodie before finally finding the one thing I actually needed. The black blazer hung neatly beside a pressed white shirt, the matching black trousers beneath it. Even the tie was already folded into the breast pocket where I'd left it yesterday.
Ten minutes later, the room looked slightly less miserable than when I'd woken up. Good enough. I grabbed my bag, gave the apartment one last look, and headed for the door.
Prolly was already awake. Students in neatly pressed uniforms hurried toward the station with bags slung over their shoulders while the people who actually worked nights were only just calling it a day. A pair of sex workers walked past me, heels clicking against the pavement as they chatted about something that sounded way too cheerful for this early in the morning. Smoke drifted from the factories a few blocks over, adding another layer to the permanent grey haze hanging above the district as I headed to the train station.
The train sped past another station as my thoughts drifted back to the ceremony waiting for us at Westbrook.
Awakening wasn't exactly uncommon. Around forty percent of the population manifested an ability during their graduation service. The remaining sixty percent simply... didn't. There wasn't another chance five years later or some special second ceremony. If nothing happened today, that was the end of it.
Most awakeners didn't become heroes either. Television loved pretending every Manifestation could level buildings or fly across the skyline, but reality was a lot less glamorous. Plenty of people awakened abilities that simply made everyday jobs easier. Construction workers who could lift more. Doctors whose Manifestations helped diagnose illnesses. Mechanics who somehow knew what was wrong with an engine just by touching it. They weren't famous, but they earned honest livings.
Only a handful awakened Stigma powerful enough to qualify for hero work, which was probably why every student walking into graduation today secretly hoped they'd be one of the lucky few.
There wasn't really a rule that said a powerful Stigma automatically made you a hero, though. Plenty of awakeners wanted nothing to do with fighting villains or smiling for cameras every other week. Hero work was dangerous. One wrong mission and your face ended up on the evening news for an entirely different reason.
Most simply joined private companies that paid ridiculous amounts of money for abilities nobody else had.
Honestly, I couldn't blame them.
Risking my life every other Tuesday for public approval didn't exactly sound appealing.
Not anymore.
Then again...
The people who did become heroes ended up with more than just fame. Government support, agency sponsorships, ridiculous salaries, free healthcare.
Apparently, punching criminals in the face came with excellent benefits.
I let out a quiet laugh at the thought before my eyes drifted back towards the faint blue flicker lingering at the edge of my vision.
The Vigilante System.
It still hadn't disappeared.
That alone was enough to bother me.
Maybe I was awakening some weird Stigma ahead of schedule.
Maybe yesterday's crash had actually knocked something loose inside my head.
Or maybe glowing blue windows floating in front of people's faces had become completely normal overnight, and nobody had bothered telling me.
I somehow doubted the last one.
Whatever it was, it'd have to wait.
The ceremony came first.
The train gradually slowed as familiar buildings appeared outside the window. The taller office buildings gave way to cafés, convenience stores, and apartment blocks that actually looked like someone cared enough to repaint them every few years.
Westbrook wasn't rich.
It wasn't poor either.
It was one of those districts that simply... existed. Comfortable enough that families could raise children without worrying about stray bullets coming through their windows every other night, but ordinary enough that nobody outside the district ever talked about it.
Westbrook Academy fit that description perfectly.
Nobody called it prestigious.
Nobody called it terrible either.
If your parents had decent jobs, they could probably afford the tuition without too much trouble. If they couldn't, good grades usually made up the difference.
Mine had.
Otherwise I'd still be attending one of Prolly's overcrowded public schools instead of putting up with Tony's yelling three evenings a week just to cover everything my scholarship didn't.
My thoughts drifted to Maria somewhere along the way. We attended the same school, which was how I'd met Tony in the first place. One introduction led to another, and before I knew it I was delivering pizzas three evenings a week to help pay for everything scholarships didn't cover. Strangely enough, she'd barely spoken to me these past few weeks. At first I thought she was simply busy, but then she started disappearing whenever I came around. She'd leave the shop just before my shift started or suddenly have somewhere else to be after classes ended. I honestly couldn't remember doing anything to upset her, which somehow made it even more confusing.
Not that I was exactly an expert when it came to understanding girls.
Maybe she'd simply gotten tired of hanging around someone who smelled like pizza dough half the week.
Wouldn't exactly be the worst reason.
The automated announcement echoed through the carriage before the train began slowing for the station.
"Now arriving at Westbrook."
Students around me immediately stood, straightening blazers, adjusting ties, and making last-minute checks in the reflections of the train windows. More than a few looked nervous.
Guess I wasn't the only one.
I stood as well, brushing an invisible crease from my blazer before following the crowd onto the platform.
The morning air was cooler than I'd expected.
Just beyond the station gates, sitting at the top of a gentle slope lined with flowering trees, stood the familiar brick entrance to Westbrook Academy.
Students streamed through the open gates in groups, laughing, talking, and pretending today was just another day of school.
It wasn't.
By the time the sun set, every one of us would know exactly what kind of future we had waiting for us.
Taking a slow breath, I adjusted my tie one last time and started walking toward the school. Behind the excitement, behind the nerves, and behind the anticipation that every graduating student probably felt...
The faint blue flicker still lingered patiently at the edge of my vision.