Utibe Johnson had perfected the art of ignoring reality.
Wrapped in his blanket like a burrito, he lay in bed, his face buried in his pillow as the morning sun filtered through his curtains. The world outside was awake, but Utibe? He had no intention of joining it anytime soon.
The problem was, his mother had other plans.
"Utibe!"
No response.
"Utibe Johnson!"
Still nothing.
Then came the sound of rapid, approaching footsteps, followed by a brutal yank on his blanket. Cold air attacked his body.
"Ah! What the hell, Mom?!" Utibe groaned, rolling over to glare at the woman standing over him. Mrs. Johnson, dressed in her usual work clothes, held a letter in her hand. The way she gripped it, like it had personally offended her, was a bad sign.
She took a deep breath and waved the letter in front of his face. "Care to explain this?"
Utibe squinted at it. "Uh… a love letter?"
Mrs. Johnson's nostrils flared. "You got expelled, again!"
"Ah," Utibe muttered, stretching his arms. "That."
"Yes, that! For the fifth time! The principal called me yesterday, and now I have this letter confirming it." She slapped the paper against his chest. "What do you have to say for yourself?"
Utibe sighed dramatically, rubbing his temple like her words had given him a headache. "Look, Mom, I keep telling you—school is useless for me."
Mrs. Johnson folded her arms. "Useless?"
"Yes! I already have multiple degrees from online universities! What exactly am I going to learn in some boring classroom that I don't already know?"
Mrs. Johnson stared at him, her face blank. Then, she closed her eyes, took another deep breath, and exhaled slowly. "Lord, give me strength," she whispered.
Utibe smirked. "You know, I read a study that says anger shortens your lifespan."
Mrs. Johnson opened her eyes and gave him a look that made him rethink his life choices. "Get. Out. Of. Bed."
With a groan, Utibe sat up. "Fine, fine. I'll go for a jog or something."
Mrs. Johnson sighed, rubbing her forehead. "Just—just get out of my sight before I say something I'll regret."
"Love you too, Mom," Utibe said, grinning as he hopped out of bed.
---
Dressed in a tank top, sweatpants, and running shoes, Utibe stepped outside, popping a piece of toast into his mouth as he started his morning jog.
Draven City was alive with the usual morning chaos—horns blaring, vendors shouting, and pedestrians rushing to work. The air smelled of roasted corn, car exhaust, and the faintest hint of rain.
Utibe didn't actually care much for jogging. He just liked the illusion of productivity. But as he ran through the familiar streets, he spotted something that made him slow down.
Across the street, in a narrow alley, three guys were cornering another kid—about his age. The bullied guy had messy black hair, a slim build, and a face that practically screamed 'introvert who reads too much.'
Utibe clicked his tongue.
"Not my problem," he muttered, looking away and continuing his jog.
But then… he stopped.
His feet refused to move forward. His brain tried to convince him to mind his business, but something about the scene rubbed him the wrong way.
"Ah, for fuck's sake," Utibe groaned, turning around.
He crossed the street and strode into the alley. The bullies barely noticed him, too focused on their victim.
"Oi," Utibe called out.
They turned. The biggest of them, a thick-necked dude with a mean scowl, frowned. "Who the hell are you?"
"Me?" Utibe placed a hand on his chest. "I'm the dumbass who just wasted his morning getting involved in this nonsense."
One of the bullies sneered. "Mind your business, bro."
Utibe nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, I was gonna. But then I figured, eh, why not kick someone's ass before breakfast?"
The slim guy in the corner gave Utibe a look—half hopeful, half terrified.
The leader of the bullies stepped forward, cracking his knuckles. "You talk too much."
Utibe grinned. "I know."
The fight was quick and brutal.
The first guy swung at him—slow, predictable. Utibe ducked, planted his fist into the guy's stomach, and sent him wheezing to the ground.
The second one lunged at him from the side. Utibe sidestepped, grabbed his arm, and twisted, sending him crashing face-first into the wall.
The leader rushed him, aiming a wild punch. Utibe blocked, drove his knee into the guy's gut, then slammed his elbow into his face. A loud crunch echoed in the alley as the guy stumbled back, clutching his broken nose.
Blood dripped onto the pavement.
The remaining two bullies saw the damage and decided they suddenly had better places to be. They grabbed their bleeding
friends and bolted, leaving behind their groaning leader, who was still clutching his nose like it had personally betrayed him.
Utibe dusted off his hands, rolling his shoulders as he turned to the bullied guy. "Well, that was fun."
The guy, still wide-eyed, blinked a few times before shaking his head. "Uh… thanks, I guess."
Utibe smirked. "You 'guess'? I just saved your ass, bro. You could try sounding more grateful."
The guy sighed, rubbing his temple. "No, I mean—thanks. Seriously. But…" His expression darkened slightly. "You shouldn't have gotten into it."
Utibe raised a brow. "Oh? You wanted them to beat the hell out of you? Some kind of masochist thing?"
The guy let out a short laugh but didn't answer. Instead, he glanced down at the leader, who was still groaning in pain, and muttered, "This might get messy…"
Utibe frowned. "The hell does that mean?"
The guy looked up, eyes scanning Utibe's face as if debating something. Then, with a sigh, he shook his head. "Forget it. Just… be careful, alright?"
Before Utibe could respond, the guy turned and walked away, disappearing into the crowd like a ghost.
Utibe watched him go, a strange feeling settling in his gut.
Something about that guy was off. The way he spoke. The way he looked at Utibe like he knew something he didn't. And that cryptic warning?
Utibe scratched the back of his head. "Weird-ass morning."
He turned away from the alley and continued his jog, though now, he had a feeling his day was far from over.