**Chapter Two: A Bite (2/2)**
The hours dragged on, each minute stretching into what felt like an eternity. Kyouta, a boy with unkempt brown hair and tired eyes, sat hunched over his desk, surrounded by the dull hum of academia. The classroom was a sterile environment, bathed in the pale light filtering through the large windows. The walls were lined with posters of scientific diagrams and motivational quotes, their colors faded from years of exposure to the sun. The air smelled faintly of chalk dust and old wood, a scent that seemed to cling to every corner of the room.
From mathematics to physics, literature to languages, Kyouta endured the monotony of his studies with quiet resignation. He had spent four grueling hours at his desk, from eight in the morning until noon, his focus unwavering despite the boredom gnawing at him. The morning break had come and gone, and as usual, no one had spoken to him. Now, with the final bell ringing, he was packing his books into his worn leather bag, its seams frayed from years of use.
As he reached for his last notebook, a sharp *thud* echoed through the room. A hand slammed down on the wooden desk in front of him, the force of it causing Kyouta to freeze mid-motion. He looked up slowly, his expression calm but wary, to find four students standing over him. Their smirks were wide and mocking, their eyes gleaming with a mixture of amusement and malice.
Kyouta's gaze flickered over their faces, taking in their confident postures and the way they loomed over him like predators circling their prey. He recognized the scene immediately.
*'Isn't this the bullying scene?'* he thought, his mind working quickly. *'This happens every time I move to a new school. I didn't expect it to start on the very first day, though. These are what I call the "bullies' group"—people who thrive on asserting dominance over someone like me.'*
One of the boys, a tall figure with spiky black hair and a sneer plastered across his face, broke the silence. "You seem very calm for someone who has no ability," he said, his voice dripping with mockery.
Kyouta remained silent, his expression unreadable. The boy's smirk faltered, replaced by a flicker of irritation. His jaw tightened as he leaned in closer, his voice rising. "Aren't you even going to answer me? How arrogant do you think you are?"
Kyouta was not one to resort to violence. He knew better than to provoke someone who might possess a powerful supernatural ability. Instead, he chose his words carefully, his tone steady and measured. "I was clear at the beginning of class that I wanted to get along with everyone. That's why I told you directly—I don't have any supernatural ability."
The four boys exchanged glances before bursting into laughter, their voices echoing through the nearly empty classroom. The sound was harsh and grating, drawing the attention of the few remaining students, who quickly averted their eyes and hurried out the door.
When their laughter subsided, the same boy spoke again, his tone laced with condescension. "You'll get along with us? Don't make me laugh. It's impossible for someone with a C-level ability and someone with an S-level ability to be on the same level, let alone someone like you who doesn't even have an ability. You're at the bottom of this school's hierarchy. Your name's Kyouta, right? Listen, I don't like using violence against the weak, so if you agree to do a few favors for us, we'll let you off the hook. We might even protect you."
Kyouta's jaw tightened, but he said nothing. He was on the verge of retorting that he'd rather take a beating than serve someone his own age when one of the boys thrust a wooden broom into his hands.
"Today's my turn to clean the classroom," the boy said, his smirk returning. "But I'm not in the mood. Consider this your first task."
Kyouta stared at the broom, his grip tightening around the handle. He glanced around the room, but no one met his gaze. The other students had already left, their footsteps fading down the hallway. The classroom was silent now, save for the faint ticking of the clock on the wall.
The boy who had handed him the broom grew impatient, his expression darkening. "What's with that look? Do I need to repeat myself?"
Kyouta exhaled softly, his shoulders slumping in resignation. He took the broom, his movements slow and deliberate. The four boys exchanged satisfied grins, their confidence restored.
"See? I told you he'd be obedient," one of them said, his voice dripping with smugness. "This is much better than wasting time beating him up. We're counting on you, *Kota-san*."
They turned and sauntered out of the classroom, their laughter echoing down the hallway. Kyouta watched them go, his expression unreadable.
"*Kota-san*?" he muttered under his breath once they were out of earshot. "Who's that? And why add the honorific if you don't even respect me?"
He glanced around the empty classroom, the silence pressing in on him. The desks were neatly arranged, their surfaces scratched and worn from years of use. The chalkboard at the front of the room was still covered in equations from the last lesson, the white lines stark against the dark green surface.
Kyouta sighed and began sweeping the floor, the rhythmic sound of the broom against the tiles filling the room. As he worked, his thoughts drifted.
*'This is Saikono City in a nutshell—the crime capital of Japan. Schools here are nothing like the ones in Tokyo. Back there, security was tight, and the crime rate was low. People without abilities could live peacefully alongside those with them. But here? Strength is everything. If you're weak, you're nothing.'*
He paused for a moment, leaning on the broom as he stared out the window. The city skyline stretched out before him, a chaotic mix of towering skyscrapers and crumbling buildings. The streets below were bustling with activity, but Kyouta knew better than to romanticize it. Saikono was a city where danger lurked around every corner, and survival often came at a cost.
*'My life wasn't always like this,'* he thought, his gaze distant. *'The bullying only started six months ago, when I moved here for family reasons. Back in Tokyo, I was just another face in the crowd. But here? I'm a nobody.'*
As he resumed sweeping, a faint movement caught his eye. He glanced up at the ceiling, where a red spider with striking blue legs was making its way across the tiles. Its movements were deliberate, almost graceful, as it descended on a thin, silken thread.
Kyouta's eyes widened as the spider landed on his head, its tiny legs skittering through his hair. He froze, his heart pounding as he felt it crawl down his neck and onto his back.
"Wait, don't tell me this is an insect?!" he exclaimed, his voice tinged with panic. "I hate insects!"
He dropped the broom and began frantically trying to remove his jacket, his movements jerky and uncoordinated. The spider, startled by the sudden motion, bit down on his back.
"Ouch!" Kyouta yelped, slapping at the spot where the spider had bitten him. The creature fell to the floor, lifeless, but the sting of its bite lingered.
Kyouta winced, rubbing the sore spot as he picked up the broom. "Are the insects here aggressive or something?" he muttered to himself. "I need to shower as soon as I get home."
The classroom was silent once more, the only sound the soft scrape of the broom against the floor. Outside, the sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows across the room. Kyouta worked quickly, eager to finish and leave the school behind.
But as he swept, a strange sensation began to spread through his body, starting from the bite on his back. It was subtle at first, almost imperceptible, but it was there—a faint warmth that seemed to pulse beneath his skin.
Unbeknownst to Kyouta, the spider's bite was more than just a nuisance. It was the beginning of something far greater, something that would change his life forever.
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