At first glance, he appeared to be an ordinary junior high school student.
Wearing a junior high school uniform with a black stand-up collar. Of slightly below-average height. He took a seat in the quiet classroom, seeming to bury his individuality among the similarly dressed boys and girls around him, attending the math class.
He had no notable features. Whether it was his hairstyle, uniform, the writing instruments on the desk, or the bag hanging beside it—none of them asserted his personality. Not a single accessory adorned him. Upon further inspection, the only strange thing was that the nail on his left ring finger, the only one, was cut into a sharp point, like the tip of a sword, as it rested on the desk.
After obediently finishing the class, he spent the break without speaking any more than necessary to the other students in the class, then quietly attended the next lesson.
Serious—except for the oddly large number of oddly skilled doodles in his notebook—he exuded an extremely serious attitude, or rather, a somewhat mechanical and nihilistic attitude. Detachedly going through the schedule, the day’s classes ended.
It was after school. He had no close friends at school. He wasn’t part of any club activities.
So he went home as soon as the lessons ended. He seemed like the typical type of person who, while not rebellious, found no value in school life.
On his way home, he didn’t stop anywhere.
He headed straight home. Although he didn’t find any value in school life, there also wasn’t anything that he looked forward to or found enjoyment in outside of school.
Every day, he returned to the apartment building he called home after school, and, as night fell and morning arrived, he would set off to school again. And then, he diligently went through the timetable and returned home. Since becoming a junior high school student, he had been repeating this flavorless, boring routine, like a machine on rails, for more than a year.
Today, too, he headed straight home.
Unmoved by anything around him, without showing any interest—as if he were weary of the world.
However, just once on the way home, he stopped.
It was when he approached his alma mater, the elementary school he had graduated from, which was located in a residential area. He stood at the roadside, gazing at the main gate for a while.
“…”
Then, leisurely placing his bag at his feet.
He extended both hands forward—
Creating a square with his index finger and thumb,
The view of the elementary school and its main gate, framed within that square.
Like a photographer composing a shot. Or perhaps, like a painter.
After gazing at the main gate of the elementary school for a while, for just a moment, a strong emotion flickered on his previously expressionless face.
“…”
His hands came down. By then, his expression had returned to its usual, emotionless state.
Picking up the bag he had placed at his feet, he pulled his gaze away from the elementary school and turned around.
Then, resuming his journey home, he didn’t look back.
Thus concluded the day. Like yesterday. The day before yesterday. The day before that. And the day before that.
Today was supposed to be the same.
But today—was different than usual.
“Hey.”
Suddenly, the clink of the metal fittings on a school bag echoed.
Followed by a voice. An elementary school student appeared from an alley, calling out to him.
It was a boy. Probably in the upper grades. In addition to wearing a well-worn, black backpack, he held a heavy-looking bag, with watercolor supplies peeking out from the top, in one hand.
“Do you draw paintings too?”
The elementary school boy asked, as he approached the boy he had stopped.
“I do that too, um, from earlier.”
Saying that, the elementary school boy placed his bag on the road and made a square with his fingers. Just like the boy had done earlier.
“…”
The boy remained silent, only turning his eyes in that direction.
At the silent junior high school student, the small elementary school boy looked momentarily intimidated, but then, as if gathering his resolve, he tightened his expression and extended his left hand, holding it towards the boy.
“I heard there was a former ‘Kakari’ who would cooperate.”
Then, he asked.
“That would be you, right?”
The nail on the boy’s left ring finger was cut in a shape resembling the tip of a sword.
“…”
The boy slowly turned to face the elementary school boy.
After solemnly gazing at the boy for a moment, he opened his mouth after a brief pause.
“I see. So, you’re the current—”
Credits:
Manager/Translator: @kirtax2000
Editor/Proofreader: @hakura.yuki
First chapter soon!
AIKiraGroup 
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