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But even if this imaginary hero existed, heroes can't save everyone.

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"Haru?" I was snapped back to reality by the call of my name. Mrs. Takeda, our homeroom teacher, had called me out. Either way it seems that I wasn't paying enough attention to her lesson. My eyes turned from the window and bore into her stern gaze. There was a slight hint of curiosity in my eyes. Mrs. Takeda knew I was mute so she often didn't call on me, either that or she was just afraid of my family's status. My parents were both high-tiers due to their successful business and I'm supposed to take over.

          For a few minutes the classroom was silent. Only the staccato ticks of the clock chiming every minute and the occasional breath was audible.

          Tick. Everyone's breath was hitched, a slight tension arose in the room. Neither me or Mrs. Takeda faltered from each other's gaze, she was one of the few adults who didn't flinch under my stare.

          Tick. Despite my lack of voice, my cold, sapphire orbs told everything. If you look hard enough you could see pain, a smaller child crying in the cabinet as faint banging sounds were heard.

          Tick. Three ticks, that meant three minutes have passed, three mistakes and you're exiled for being imperfect. Only three. For three minutes, that was all I heard. All other sounds were tuned out, only the ticks of the clock caught my attention. Then I tore my gaze away from hers and gave a slight nod in apology. She accepted it and continued the lesson.

          There was only one thing that lingered in my mind as I started to find my notebook on my desk more and more interesting. Even if it was only for a little bit, the sound of the ticking unnerved me. It was like time stopped. 



This only happened one other time, the time they fought.

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