The air was tense. Leaves on the trees curled to brace for an arrival. Clouds stopped moving. Some idiotic bird was still whistling like a rock star screaming away in a classical orchestral performance but shutted up immediately when a flash of grey streaked past. A fox girl bulleted through the forest. Her ears tilted sharply up and her pearl grey tail tagged the wind. With a sleek figure, her powerful limbs propelled her smoothly towards her destination: The Crater of Zathos. She knew something was about to happen. The world around her knew something was about to happen. Something, or rather someone was about to arrive. Someone with the ability to bring... change! This is fate. Cycla said to herself. Hope kindled alongside her rapid thoughts. I am the one destined to aid in the war to end all wars. The Hero will arrive and I, Altair of the Dismembered will be the one that will stand besides the Hero!
In Tokyo, Japan. An alarm clock blinked: 4:07 a.m.
Kichirou sat on my chair.
If you were ever a teen you'd know that there are more ways to sit on a chair than the number of flowers on a typical Maki's bush (6 to be meticulous ). It's okay if you don't know what's a Maki's bush, it'd mean that you are some typical human that gets up in the morning, goes to work or school, sleeps before 12 and repeats this cycle until the day you die.
Kichirou 'sat' on my chair with his feet faced upwards towards the dark ceiling illuminated only by the soft light emitted by his laptop. His pale fingers danced along the keyboard while swiftly shifting the mouse to his preference for an agile movement of Arc~ his online RPG character whom he adores so much as it represented him or rather who he wanted to be. Arc: Blond sword master, hero of his guild, the silver mage, Killer of the Evil Leech, Knight Supreme. See, Arc was everything Kichirou wasn't; From the capability to be sociable without the cringe of awkwardness... to the dashing figure impossible to be replicated by even the hottest superplayboys, Arc being ironically created by Kichirou was not a symbol of ideality but rather unconsciously an emblem of hopelessness.
This 17 years-old was not in education, employment or training and therefore a NEET. He locks himself up in my room all day and sneaks out at night for food. Kichirou is also a high school dropout and has a lightning-shaped scar under his left eye Harry Potter-style which he got from hitting the edge of the table when he was 7. I could go into detail with everything about Kichirou from his embarrassing secrets he swore to bury in his mountain of shame to the reason why he ran away from a place he once called home to isolate himself from the society he deems unworthy. Who exactly am I to be so intimately related to Kichirou? Yeah, you guessed it : I am Kichirou.
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Something Genuine
FantasyDead in the first chapter, Kichirou was a NEET that needed a chance to change. But when his life was fated to be played around like a game he was once addicted to in his past life, Kichirou has to balance on a pillar built by a flimsy friendship, a...
