April 15th could've been just another ordinary day—if not for the start of school.
The sound of the gates of hell echoed in my room, or as most people call it, the "alarm clock." I'll never understand how anyone could give such a depressing device such a cutesy name. Waking up is misery.
Now, you might be wondering why I hate waking up so much. Well, my friend, the answer's simple: I own a mirror. A cursed mirror that greets me the second I open my eyes every morning.
And why is that such a bad thing, you ask? Because the only thing worse than waking up is being forced to see my own reflection. I'm ugly. No, scratch that—I'm so repulsive that calling me ugly would be an insult to every merely ugly person out there.
You probably think I'm exaggerating, but trust me, I'm not. My "ocular beauty rating" is a big fat zero. My eyes are the most dismal, soulless gray you could imagine. It's like staring into the void, only less inspiring.
"What's an ocular beauty rating?" people ask me. Apparently, not everyone is obsessed with this concept like I am. My world revolves around eyes. And gray, opaque eyes like mine are at the bottom of the barrel. Combine that with their lifeless shape, dark circles, and lashes that look like they've given up on life, and I've got the gaze of death itself.
Some people try to tell me I'm "good-looking." Sure, I'm tall, have sleek black hair, whatever. None of that matters when my eyes scream corpse. That's the mantra I repeat to the damned mirror every morning—when I'm not chucking something at it out of frustration.
Anyway, much like my eyes, my life has always been dull and gray. I did nothing spectacular in middle school. But things are about to change. I'm starting high school at a new school—3,500 students strong.
Do you know what that means? Probability is finally on my side. There are six cases of heterochromia for every 1,000 people. That's 21 people in my new school who might have it. Most of them will likely be girls, statistically speaking. So, there could be 11 heterochromatic girls at my school.
Ridiculous? Maybe. But this is what I've been obsessing over all summer. I did the math. I calculated the odds. This time, I'm sure I'll find her—the one. God wouldn't be cruel enough to deny me this, right?
...Okay, maybe I'm not entirely sure. Every time I've done this calculation before, it's failed. No heterochromatic girls. The one exception was my eighth-grade substitute history teacher. She was 68, and yes, I made a move. It didn't work out, obviously. I ended up suspended for a week and with a tarnished reputation. But this year will be different.
I've prepared. I've made sacrifices. I even avoided "enjoying myself" all summer. Not once. Misdirection while peeing was a nightmare, but I endured.
This year, there's no way God or math will betray me. And if they do? I'll either become a Buddhist monk and retreat to the mountains for a decade or turn to Satanism and start sacrificing random goats.
This is my year.
THUD!
Lost in thought, I walked straight into someone at the school entrance.
"Sorry about that. Need a hand?" I said, offering my hand to the girl I'd accidentally knocked over.
"No, no, I'm fine," she replied, brushing herself off.
Then it hit me. Or rather, she hit me—like a lightning strike. Or a punch from Bruce Lee, straight to the soul.
For the first time in my life, I saw an angel. Or maybe a deity in human form.
Complete sectoral heterochromia. Both eyes. The two colors dancing within two perfectly round globes. Her eyes were... flawless. Paired with her proud, stoic gaze, they were nothing short of divine. One blue, the other one a shock pink, her eyes stole all the color she would have to use, so his skin was white as snow just like her hair was silver like exquisite armor, polished by the divine blacksmith.
"Are you okay? You've been staring at me for a while," She said, her tone skeptical. "Not to be rude, but you're kinda creeping me out."
"Oh! Yeah, I'm fine! Never been better. By the way, what's your name?"
"Akemi. And can you stop staring at me? If you don't, I might have to call the cops on my first day of school."
Obviously, I couldn't stop staring. Even her annoyed glare was mesmerizing.
"Nice to meet you, Akemi. Wanna get married?"
...I screwed up.
Akemi looked at me like I was garbage before turning and walking away without a word.
To anyone else, this would've been a catastrophic start to the year. But to someone like me, who's never experienced a proper crush—aside from that substitute teacher—this was progress. I could still play it off as a joke. No one takes a marriage proposal seriously at first sight.
Although, if she'd said yes, I'd already be planning the wedding.
"YES! I CAN FINALLY CANCEL MY PLAN TO DIE AT 21!" I shouted, punching the air triumphantly.
END OF CHAPTER 1