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Loner of the Vanguard

Saitama_Hulktama
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Chapter 1 - Chapter 1: Running Out of Time

Chapter 1: Running Out of Time

6:35 AM.

The streets were still waking up as he sprinted through them, his breath coming in sharp bursts. His old sneakers slapped against the concrete, the sound lost in the hum of the city. He was running late. Again. But that wasn't new.

As he rounded a corner, something caught his eye. An old woman stood in the middle of the road, frozen with fear, cars honking furiously around her. Without thinking, he veered off his path, darting into the street. He grabbed the old lady by the arm, guiding her across just in time to avoid a speeding car.

"Thank you, young man-" the old lady began.

But before she could finish, he was already gone, his dark hair whipping behind him as he ran. No time to waste. He couldn't afford another tardy mark. Not today.

As he cut through another alley, his mind raced. I'll take the back way, he thought. It'll shave off a few minutes. He vaulted over a rusty barrier that warned of construction, ignoring the "Do Not Enter" signs. His legs were burning, but he pushed harder. The school was just a few blocks away.

That's when he saw it-down a narrow alley, a pack of stray dogs had cornered a cat. A beautiful Persian, its fur fluffed up in fear, was surrounded, one of the dogs a bulky beast that towered over the others, teeth bared.

His heart sank. He checked his phone. 6:45 AM. He had ten minutes left, but even that wasn't enough to deal with this. He should've kept running.

But he didn't.

Without a second thought, he dashed toward the pack, scooping up the cat. A sharp pain shot through his leg as one of the dogs sank its teeth into him, but he kicked it off and kept moving. The cat was trembling in his arms, claws digging into his jacket, but he didn't slow down. Another dog snapped at him, and he kicked it aside, barely breaking stride.

His legs felt heavy, his breaths ragged. Why do I always get myself into this? he thought, wincing as another dog nipped at his heels. But it didn't matter. He'd dealt with worse. Much worse.

After what felt like an eternity, he managed to outpace the dogs, slipping into a side street. He placed the trembling cat down, relieved when it didn't run off.

"That was close," he muttered, wiping sweat from his forehead. But as he caught his breath, he noticed a woman with a little boy nearby, both of them looking distressed. The boy held a flyer in his hand, his eyes scanning the street frantically.

He glanced at the flyer. It was a "Lost Cat" poster. The picture? A Persian with the same blue-gray fur as the one sitting at his feet.

He sighed, gently picking up the cat again and walking toward them. The woman gasped, and the boy's face lit up.

"You found her!" the boy shouted, reaching out for the cat.

He handed the Persian over, nodding as the boy cradled the cat to his chest. The woman opened her mouth to thank him, but he was already gone, disappearing down the street before the words could escape her lips.

6:55 AM.

Panic surged through him as he sprinted toward the school gates. His legs felt like they were made of lead now, the pain from the dog bites starting to catch up to him. His phone vibrated-an alert signaling the start of class.

"No, no, no," he muttered under his breath, pushing harder.

He reached the school gates just as they were about to close, slipping through with seconds to spare. His classroom was on the second floor, and he tore up the stairs two at a time, his shoes squeaking on the polished floors.

When he burst through the door, the entire class turned to stare. Some students snickered, others rolled their eyes. The teacher, however, was not amused.

"Late. Again," the teacher's voice cut through the room like a whip. "Do you ever bother to check the time?"

He didn't answer. He stood there, breathing heavily, trying to calm his racing heart.

"Outside. Now. And take two buckets with you."

He nodded, his shoulders slumping as he made his way to the back of the classroom, where the punishment buckets sat. He grabbed two, but the teacher's voice stopped him cold.

"On second thought," the teacher sneered, "make it four. Perhaps the extra weight will help you learn some discipline."

He exhaled slowly, biting back his frustration. He didn't argue, didn't complain. He simply took two more buckets, filled them with water, and stepped outside, balancing the four heavy loads in each hand.

"Voulgrim!" the teacher's voice echoed behind him. "Maybe when you've carried those for a while, you'll learn some respect for time."

Standing there in the hallway, arms aching, Voulgrim stared at the ground. The snickers from his classmates were muffled behind the door, but he heard them all the same. He closed his eyes, ignoring the dull throb in his limbs.

Why do I even bother? he thought, the weight of the buckets matching the weight in his chest. He had helped three people today, and yet no one cared, no one even noticed.

Voulgrim opened his eyes, looking out at the schoolyard. He didn't fit in here. He never did. And part of him didn't care. But another part of him... maybe, just maybe, he was waiting for the day things would change.