Haruto Kisaragi

Another sunset.

It drapes the rooftop in tangerine light—so warm it feels like a lie. Down in the quad I can already hear tomorrow’s heroes sparring, laughter crackling with lightning, fire, and gravity.

They have got power, abilities, a blessing.

Mine?
—it’s just a curse.

Every time someone raises a fist at me, my brain stretches one second into a hundred.

A single shove becomes an hour-long humiliation reel.

I feel every syllable of the insults, taste every grain of dust when my face hits the ground—again, and again, and again—while the real world hasn’t even blinked.

Yesterday Rei’s thunder punch “took two seconds.”

It took me almost 3min’s to finish screaming in my head.

By the time my body hit the locker doors, I’d already lived the pain a thousand different ways.

It sucks!

“I don’t belong in here.”

The words left my mouth before I even realized that I’d spoken them.
Maybe I wasn’t even thinking, Just stuck in my own words.

A single step.
The world tipped slightly forward.

Ah... it’s kind of peaceful from up here.

The sky looked bigger than usual.
The clouds, soft like pillows.

I wondered if it would hurt.
I kind of hoped it would.

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The ledge is cold under my bare toes.

A heavy silence.

No one was watching.
That was the first thing I noticed.
Even while dying, I was invisible.
Just like always.

My hands trembling—not from fear, I don't know why....

I had held on for so long, clutching at the illusion that maybe someone would notice.
That maybe if I tried harder… smiled more… spoke louder… someone would reach out.

But in the end?

Nothing.

They did reach me, not to support but to bully, because I was the easy target for them.

I wonder if they’ll even notice when I hit the ground.

Funny.
For once, I get to decide how long a second lasts.
Just… step forward, and let gravity press fast-forward on this cursed life.

Mum, Dad—
I’m sorry I couldn’t be the hero you believed in.
I’m sorry....
For the mess. Please don’t look at me tomorrow.

I didn’t want to die… not at first.
But somewhere between being born in this world and waking up every morning wishing I wasn’t, something just… cracked.

People always talk about loneliness like it’s an emotion.
For me, it was a habit.
A way of living. A routine.

Wake up. Smile at the mirror until it looks real.
Pack the lunchbox quietly so Mom doesn’t notice.
Leave without a word.
Avoid Dad’s eyes over breakfast—he looks too tired to fake pride anymore.

Then… school.

A place where everyone shines.
Where one of the students throws fireballs during gym class.
Where one guy can bend metal with his spine, and another flies just to flex.

Me?

I can't do anything like that.

And I wish that was the worst part. I wish I was just powerless. Weak.
But no—

I got something.

A “power.”

Just not one anyone would want.

It’s a curse.
A disgusting, quiet kind.
It doesn’t make me stronger.
It doesn’t protect me.

No.

It just prolongs the moment.

Every time someone raises their hand to hit me, every time a girl laughs while pointing her finger, or a teacher looks away while I’m slammed into a locker—

Time slows down.
Not for them. For me.

One second of pain?
For me, it becomes a hundred.

One slap?
It echoes in my skull for an hour.

One insult?
It loops, again and again, bouncing off the hollow walls of my head until I’ve memorized the exact curve of their lips as they said it.

I can’t even cry right.

Because when they hit me, my body freezes—but my mind stays awake.
Thinking. Feeling.
Screaming into an endless second that no one else is stuck in.

I used to try to fight back. Once.
But when you feel every second like it’s stretched into agony—
your courage dies before your fists ever clench.

You learn how to freeze.
How to survive by doing nothing.
How to smile so your parents won’t worry when they see your bruises.

And they love me.
That’s the part that hurts more than anything.

My mom loved me the most, so I hid everything from her.
My dad makes ramen on cold nights, pretending he doesn't notice my bandages, only one who supports me, think that i can be something, someday.

They don’t deserve a son like me.
A coward.
A ghost living in slow motion.

I’ve thought about telling them.
Just once.
But what would I say?

“Hey Mom, Dad, my power makes me relive every second of pain longer than it should be, and I can’t fight back because fear moves faster than I can.”

What would they do?

Cry?
Say they’re proud of me?

I don’t want that. I don’t want pity.

I just want to be free.
To stop counting seconds.
To stop being stuck.

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So now I’m here.
On the edge.
Of a rooftop too high for fear.
The wind is kind—Gentle. Not judging.

The school roof is quiet—too high up for laughter to reach. Just the hum of air vents and the soft, constant wind. The ledge is chipped, paint peeling, like it’s held too many feet before mine.

I glance up at the sky—
a color I’ll never get tired of.
Soft purple fading into a sleepy gold.
It’s beautiful.

Too beautiful for someone like me.

“I guess that’s it…”

I closed my eyes.

No prayers.
No goodbyes.

I didn’t want to be saved.
I didn’t want to wake up tomorrow.
I didn’t want another day of pretending I was fine when I was hollow.

“I'm sorry Mom. Dad”

I stepped off the edge.

But…

In that final instant—
when the air split past my ears, and the ground rushed to meet me—
something strange happened.

For just a fraction of a second,
I thought I heard a voice.

Not mine.
Not my parents’.

Someone else—
older, colder, stubborn as hell—

“I want to live.”

And then—
Everything went black.

To Be Continued......