The day dragged on, and Kikidori's hope for a better outcome seemed to dwindle with every passing second. By the time lunch rolled around, he'd already been tripped in the hallway twice and called every insulting nickname Ryden and his gang could come up with. But what made it worse was the constant stares—students either laughing at him or avoiding eye contact altogether, as if associating with him would drag them down too.
By now, Kikidori knew better than to sit in the cafeteria. Instead, he lingered in the empty courtyard, nibbling on the small sandwich he'd managed to pack that morning. Just as he took another bite, he heard the familiar sound of mocking laughter.
"Look who thinks he can eat in peace!" Ryden's voice called out.
Kikidori groaned, keeping his head down. "Not again…"
Ryden sauntered over, flanked by Mika and Jace as usual. They looked at Kikidori like wolves sizing up prey.
"What's the matter, Stick?" Mika taunted. "No friends to keep you company? Oh, wait. You don't have any."
Kikidori ignored her, hoping they'd get bored and leave him alone.
"Don't ignore us," Ryden said, kicking Kikidori's lunch out of his hand. The sandwich landed on the ground, half-eaten and covered in dirt.
Kikidori's fists clenched. He didn't look up, didn't move, but inside, something was boiling over.
"What's wrong?" Jace asked, his voice dripping with mock concern. "You're not gonna cry, are you?"
As Ryden reached down to shove Kikidori's shoulder, a voice cut through the courtyard.
"Mr. Kikidori."
Everyone froze. Principal Velden stood a few feet away, his arms crossed and his sharp eyes surveying the scene. Kikidori looked up, relief momentarily flashing through him.
"Finally," he thought. "He's going to stop this."
But the relief was short-lived. Velden's gaze passed over the scene without a hint of concern.
"Don't loiter in the courtyard," Velden said coldly, his tone directed at Kikidori. Then, without another word, he turned and walked away.
Kikidori's jaw tightened as he watched the principal disappear back into the building. His chest burned—not from embarrassment, but from sheer frustration.
"That's it," he muttered under his breath.
"What was that?" Ryden asked, leaning closer.
"I said…" Kikidori stood, his fists clenched, "that's it!"
Before Ryden could react, Kikidori swung his fist with all the strength he had. His knuckles connected with Ryden's jaw, sending the older boy stumbling back a step.
The courtyard fell silent, the other students too stunned to speak.
Ryden touched his jaw, his fingers brushing over the faint bruise forming there. Slowly, he looked up at Kikidori, his expression shifting from surprise to pure rage.
"You're dead," Ryden growled.
In the blink of an eye, Ryden charged at Kikidori. His fists sparked with electricity as he swung at Kikidori, landing a brutal hit to his stomach. Kikidori doubled over in pain, gasping for air, but Ryden didn't stop. Blow after blow rained down on him, each one more painful than the last.
By the time it was over, Kikidori was lying on the ground, bruised and battered. Ryden stood over him, his fists still crackling.
"Let that be a lesson," Ryden said, his voice dripping with disdain.
Before Kikidori could muster the strength to respond, Principal Velden reappeared, his expression unreadable.
"What's going on here?" Velden asked, though his tone suggested he already knew.
Ryden stepped back, putting on a fake look of innocence. "Kikidori attacked me, sir."
Kikidori tried to sit up, wincing from the pain. "That's not true! He—"
"Enough," Velden interrupted. He looked down at Kikidori with disdain. "You've caused enough trouble for one day. You're suspended for a week."
Kikidori's mouth fell open. "What?! You can't be serious! He's the one—"
"I said enough!" Velden snapped, his voice booming. "Pack your things and leave the premises immediately."
Ryden smirked as Kikidori struggled to his feet, his entire body aching. The other students whispered and laughed as he limped out of the courtyard, humiliation burning in his chest.
As Kikidori walked home, his head hung low, he replayed the events of the day over and over in his mind. No matter how hard he tried to push it down, the anger kept bubbling back up.
"What's the point?" he muttered to himself. "No one cares. No one's ever going to care."
He shoved his hands into his pockets, his steps heavy as he wandered through the quiet streets. That's when he saw it—a large poster plastered to the side of a building.
It depicted soldiers in sleek, high-tech armor standing on the battlefield, facing off against monstrous, alien-like creatures with gray skin and sharp ridges on their heads.
The words at the bottom of the poster read:
"Join the Fight Against the Dalki! Ages 16 and Up. Protect Earth. Protect Humanity."
Kikidori stopped, staring at the poster. For a moment, he imagined himself wearing that armor, standing tall and confident as he faced off against the Dalki.
But then he shook his head, dismissing the thought. "Yeah, right," he muttered, turning away from the poster. "I'm barely surviving high school. What makes me think I could survive a war?"
He walked away, unaware that the wheels of fate were already turning—that the very path he was trying to avoid would soon come to him, whether he wanted it or not.
The End of Chapter 7.