Legend^

After a restless night, still shaken by the specter of my spirit, the loud blaring of my alarm officializes the end of bedtime. Drenched in sweat, clothes lay by the side of the bed, neatly folded in a chaotic shape. The remnant of midnight's anxiety. Early May's climate is clement near the Kanto region, to the point pajamas may only be a comfy option. I should change to my school uniform, hence I head to the bathroom.

The mirror reflects a depiction of me that feels both likely, and unreal. Faint blue bags hang under my eyes, wrinkles nesting themselves across my face. Bed-hair tops me in a fashion contrarian to the way gravity should work — Newton be damned. And this sleep-depriven boy that stands before me... isn't even at its most deadly appearance, yet. That's the unseemly reality of insomnia. When dreams only deliver truths you'll need to worry about.

When a natural sleep cycle betrays you, there's only one thing you can rely upon. Artificial druggery. Fruit juice and its critically high sugar content, bread with strawberry jam. Carbs, fiber and sugar again, an explosive mixture of flavors. Holding breakfast onto a tray, I turn the TV on with a vocal command.

Mom must have left by now, with those insane shifts. The news drone on for awhile, as I munch listless on the strawberry toast.The visuals on TV look like they're about politicians and rich CEOs meeting, what the subtitles seem to imply. Juice drops down my throat as I gulp, and the weather forecast begins, with an elegant 360° presentation. With a mumbled word, the channel switches.

On the new channel, ads flash by. Ads designed to grab the attention, to rouse the instincts of jealousy, lust and envy... Still, the self-contained narrations and dynamic directions make for a mindless breakfast. Filling my loneliness with noise.

A virtual idol is featured in the current one. The company backing the ad is obviously rich, with how often it airs. It's about a perfume. The composition of the shots is truly artful, with polygons forming a rose in sci-fi blue lines. The short tune of the virtual idol — not even a being in the flesh; the epitome of a loss of humanity — hammers itself in the viewership's eardrums, over and over and over.

"Kanadera, and I feel glad."

The idol has features modelled after an idealized vision of mankind's genetic potential. Her green hair — the calming and delightful tinge of a pond — flows in quadruple twintails, plunging down her waistline. She is dressed in a way that confronts the traditional Japanese woman, with fans and a white kimono adorned with flowery patterns. The animation zooms on the bridge of her nose, rising like a moon crescent with serenity.

Jugging down a sip of juice, I realize... I was completely enthralled by her just now. That's just how pervasive are carnal desires.

My phone shakes by the side of the table. Most likely a gacha notification. Dividing my daily time on three games is a quite bad habit. But the thrill of lottery keeps me going... So long as I don't whale as much as the sums that appear on the news, it'll be fine.

When a contact icon lights my screen, I'm very surprised. Beside Mom, who's on the clock right now, there's only few people that'd know my number. Inspiring me a little suspicion, with the scams and whatnot... Last time I learnt about spoofing — faking your number as it appears on others' phones, just so they feel confident you're from their city or whereabouts...

However, it's the number of Yuuyami-senpai, my former upperclasswoman. Last time we talked, I was still a middle-schooler, around two years ago. Since the Occultic Club was disbanded, I have strictly no idea what this is about...

A voice mail, uh. It fits her personality rather well. Not exactly shy, but tough to comprehend and hard to approach. Forceful and blunt, quick to grow excited.

"Have you heard about the ghost, uh... The angel of death?! There's a new urban legend online! It's crazy, it's awesome, it's... The thrill!"

It's not the first time she's hit me with a sequel of voice mails. But that's an unexpected way to break the ice. Guess I should finish breakfast while she's looking for her words. She's the type to do things based on impulse, and think only throughout the aftermath... Chaotic to handle.

"It's all over on social networks. They say it's there to take your soul, if you're, like, alone in the middle of the night! The chill, isn't it?!"

"I know there's no more club linking us... Though that one can change! Tell me, by the way, if some of your classmates look like they're interested in the paranormal and all."

"Anyhow, I need you to come with me! I mean, don't we just HAVE to chase this urban legend?! In the spirit of bygone comradery! And as members of Sonoserena High-School!"

I wonder if, the news having barely hit her neurons, she's already parroted it to every contacts of hers. Considering my prescient vision, I've definitely seen something close to an "angel of death", and with how sacred the girl looked, she might be out for some souls... So it might end up a terrible idea to seek trouble by ourselves.