C H A P T E R O N E

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K U R O N E K O

"WHY DO THINGS HAPPEN?"

In today's superhuman society, that's quite a common question.

"Why do things happen, Science?" everyone asks. And luckily, Science usually has the answer. For example, if you ask Science why you were born quirkless, the answer is simple—it's because you're a loser and the world doesn't love you. If you ask Science why your son hates you, Science will say that it's probably because you mentally damaged his mother and ruined his childhood. Science can even tell you why it's morning in New York and night in Tokyo—it's because the world is round and its surface at the equator moves at a speed of approximately 460 meters per—

Boring.

I agree. But often, things happen where the answer is not so simple. For instance, take the strange phenomenon that afflicted me one week after the USJ attack. That couldn't be explained away with Science. Or mathematics. Or even home economics.

As for that strange phenomenon, I first noticed it on a Sunday, when I was in Kyoto, waiting for my bus. Naturally, Kyoto was not where I was from. That is to say, there was no place that I thought of as "where I'm from". You may say, Oh, but your family register must be somewhere, but I'd sold that off in exchange for a machine gun two weeks ago.

My being in Kyoto was not without reason. The training grounds I liked to use were located there and, with the UA Sports Festival coming up, that's where I'd spent my day off. Building up strength and working up a sweat.

But maybe that's a lie. Maybe I didn't particularly care about the sports festival and had no desires of winning it. My reasoning for taking a train out to Kyoto could be for an entirely different reason. Maybe I was not an aspiring hero, but a secret traitor sent by an underground villainous organisation and Kyoto was where our stronghold was located.

It could be simpler. Perhaps I planned on visiting one of those otaku stores. I may not have been a person interested in anime or manga (in fact, it's doubtful whether I'm a person at all), but seeing lonely people throw their money away on plastic figurines was something that my sadistic self found most amusing.

If none of explanations suffice you, then that's quite alright. After all, maybe I was really there for entirely different reasons. It's possible that I didn't go to Kyoto at all. Maybe it wasn't even a Sunday, as I was wearing my school uniform. Though of course, that could just be another lie.

So, maybe I wasn't in Kyoto on a Sunday at all, but in Osaka on a Tuesday or Yokohama on a Saturday. I suppose the decision is up to you, but as I rather like Kyoto, it's the location I've chosen for the opening to our tale.

It begins when my bus pulled up. All the background characters at the stop stood up and formed a sort of line to go on. I waited a bit before making my way towards the back of it. There, I watched, one by one, as the people who'd been waiting either used their travel cards or bought tickets from the driver. I would fall into the latter category and I couldn't say that I was looking forward to it.

I didn't like speaking to strangers. Like most parents, my mother and father had always advised me against it. They were full of all sorts of advice: brush your teeth twice a day. Don't leave your homework until the last minute. Wash your hands before meals. Don't kill people with bread knives. But the advice of never talk to strangers had always been an especially big one to them and it had always remained engrained in my mind.

Fortunately, it was something I could avoid most of the time. However, there were often instances, such as this one, where I couldn't. I needed a ticket and that meant I needed to interact with another human. It was quite bothersome, but I suppose there was no helping it.

Eventually, it was just me left in the queue. I stepped towards the driver, my money ready, and said, clearly and coldly, "Excuse me. One ticket to Higashiyama."

He didn't respond. Assuming he simply hadn't heard me, I tried again. "Excuse me," I repeated, slightly louder than the first time. However, I still received no response. He didn't even look at me.

Strange.

I cleared my throat, but just as I was preparing myself to say it a third time, my cat senses picked up on someone approaching me from behind. I instantly turned around and saw a woman stepping onto the bus. She appeared to be rather old, either in her late sixties or early seventies, but I still didn't let my guard drop. My mind and body remained on alert, just in case she made a move.

However, she did not. She merely smiled at the driver and said, over my head, "One ticket to Higashiyama."

This time, his response was instant. "Return or single?"

"Return, please."

He'd responded to her. And yet, she'd spoken no louder than I had.

Something was off. Quite off.

"Excuse me, sir?" I said, looking the driver straight in the eye. "Did you not hear me?"

Again, he did not respond. But I hadn't really expected him to. The strange truth was already sinking in.

Nobody cared about me. These people gave me no attention, made no response, because they did not even seem to notice I was there, standing in between them.

"Excuse me?" I said, two final times—first to the driver, second to the elderly woman. And both times, I went unnoticed. The woman got her ticket and sat down and the driver started driving, neither of them ever once acknowledging me. For whatever reason, I remained unseen.

I didn't fly into a state of panic. Yes, I was slightly confused by this unexpected occurrence—but I wasn't hysteric nor was I out of control. I knew that panicking wouldn't solve anything, so I kept myself in check and tried to approach things as logically as I could.

I walked over to where the elderly woman was now sitting and, as a sort of experiment, I clicked my fingers in her face. No reaction. No reaction when I clapped my hands either. And when I reached out and tugged on her handbag, she still paid me no heed.

It was most interesting.

These experiments went on for a while. I walked around the bus calmly, going from person to person and attempting to get a reaction out of them. Every time, I came up empty. Nobody could see me. Nobody at all, except for some chickens who'd escaped from a nearby McDonald's and a vegan rat, who only ate fresh, organic vegetables.

Boring.

He used to eat everything. In his life so far, he had eaten thirty-six dead animals and three live ones. He'd eaten 365 different types of muffin as well as car tyres, windows and half a pedestrian bridge.

But not anymore.

"I never liked being a rat," he told me, but I wasn't listening. I was more interested in my sudden invisibility powers.

Was this how it felt to be Hagakure-san from class? No, surely not. Everyone could always see her clothes. She was only truly invisible once she'd stripped down—meaning something like this had probably never happened to her, unless parading about naked in the streets was a particular pastime of hers. Besides, her invisibility quirk didn't make her soundless. Her existence would still be acknowledged, something that wasn't happening with me.

How peculiar.

"Do you have any idea how many calories are in a rice ball?" the rat continued. I ignored him, stopping in front of a woman who was reading a newspaper. He didn't stop talking though.

"It's shocking," he said. "All those calories, going straight to my hips. And there I was, eating away for years."

"Cluck cluck," an escaped McDonald's chicken said. "Would you listen to that idiot?"

"Cluck cluck," his chum said. "Our stop is next. Let's go find freedom."

"Last one off is a chicken nugget, cluck cluck."

"Chicken nuggets?" the rat said. "Disgusting. Those things should be banned. The chickens of the world should be ashamed of themselves."

I kept my focus on the newspaper woman, who was reading an article about the USJ attack. An idea came to me and I extended my arm out to cover the words with my hand. But nothing changed on her face. Her eyes just continued to travel from side to side, reading the words that my hand should have been blocking. She saw through it. As though it was transparent.

I stood back.

So. I wasn't invisible.

It was more than that.

I was simply nonexistent.

_______

*cardi b voice* what was the reason

(you'll find out lol)