In this world, having a superpower doesn't make you special.
It makes you cursed.
People with abilities are called Victims—not heroes, not villains. Society fears them because their powers cause accidents, chaos, and deaths that no law can control. Some Victims are locked away. Others simply vanish.
That's why most of us hide.
The bell rang across campus, and chairs scraped as students rushed out of class. I stayed behind, resting my head on the desk.
"My name is Kiranobu Takahashi," I muttered, my voice flat. "Just another nobody."
I yawned, grabbed my bag, and stepped into the hallway. Hands in my pockets, I moved through the crowd like a ghost. Students brushed against me, bumped my shoulder, and passed without apology. Not that I expected one.
Outside, the courtyard buzzed with laughter and chatter. I ignored it, drifting toward a quiet tree at the edge of the grounds. Lying down beneath the shade, I let the noise fade.
The wind was gentle. Leaves rustled above me. For once, the world felt calm.
A memory crept in—children running through a field, their voices full of life.
"Let's promise! No matter what happens, we'll always be friends!"
Back then, I believed them.
Now… I only believe in silence.
"Hey. You okay?"
My eyes snapped open. A girl with bright orange hair stood over me, her eyes sharp yet oddly warm.
I flinched and sat up. "Too close."
She laughed awkwardly, scratching her cheek. "Sorry. You were lying so still, I thought you were—well, y'know, dead."
"…I was napping."
Her eyes narrowed, studying me as though I were some puzzle. Then she smiled faintly, gave a little wave, and walked away without another word.
"…Weird kid," I muttered.
For a moment, peace returned. Then the shouting started.
Screams echoed from the school building. Panic. Running footsteps. The kind of chaos people whisper about when a Victim loses control.
I sighed. "Seriously… can't I get one quiet day?"
Curiosity tugged at me, and I pushed open a classroom door.
What I saw froze me.
Books floated in midair, spinning as though caught in invisible hands. Desks rattled against the floor. The students inside were frozen with fear.
At the center stood her—
the orange-haired girl.
Her gaze snapped to mine. The books dropped. The room went silent.
Before I could react, someone grabbed my arm and yanked me inside. The door slammed shut.
The girl's eyes locked on me. "…You saw it."
My throat tightened. "The books… they moved on their own."
"You should've said you saw nothing," another student muttered coldly. She stepped forward, a gleaming blade drawn from her bag.
"You know too much."
My heart pounded. "You're seriously carrying a sword to school?!"
Her expression was merciless. "Say your last words."
Steel flashed. Pain tore through me. My vision blurred—blood filled my throat—
And then everything burned away in light.
---
The bell rang.
The same classroom.
The same chatter.
I opened my eyes at my desk, heart racing.
"…Not again."
That's my curse. My ability.
Every time I die, the world rewinds to the moment I first fell asleep in class.
I stood, bag over my shoulder, and sighed. Another cycle. Another lonely walk.
But this time, I knew the truth:
The orange-haired girl wasn't just some random student.
She was like me.
A Victim.
And worst of all… she remembered.
---
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