Time Gate: Reaper

Chapter 1: [SEQUENCE START]

. . . It's so cold.

I don't know where I am.

Everything is screeching. Screaming, screeching, yelling, pounding.

What's happening . . . ?

Silence.

Soothing silence slithering around me, but showing no remorse. The dark surrounds me, resonating with the impending doom of the silence, swallowing me whole. The voices hang over me, barely audible, a mere humming; like light vibrations, bouncing through my ears and into my head and out again.

The dark is cold . . . not unbearable, but noticeable, and it grows heavier with each passing second. I never liked the cold.

I cannot move. My body has become a feather, floating through this darkness, not knowing where it begins or where it ends. I don't know where I am. I don't know what to do.

So I blink and watch as my life passes me by.

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Time Gate: Reaper

Chapter 1: [SEQUENCE START]

Mitsuhiro Minamimoto.

There's an odd person in every instance of life – family, friends, school, society entirely.

If anyone, that person is Mitsuhiro.

It's not that he's a bad fellow. In fact, he's rather good-looking – for a male individual in these parts, although I have no tastes for him specifically – and talented, and is probably considered one of the most popular students at our school. Academically, he's at the top of the class. And of course, he's a real lady killer. Virtually speaking, he's perfect in every way.

It's disgusting.

I thrust my sketchbook into my best friend – Yashiro's – face, forcing her to stare back at the demeaning doodle of Mitsuhiro I've drawn.

"This is the enemy!" I sneer loudly.

"What's with you?" she asks, shoving the sketchbook aside to cast a scowl at me. "You don't even talk to him. Why all the hate?"

"He annoys me," I growl as I put my lead stick back to the paper, etching in an extra piece to the drawing.

"Why do you have to be like that?" Yashiro sighs with a disapproving glare.

"I'm allowed to hate who I want to hate, aren't I?"

Yashiro shrugs. "Yeah, but that's with valid reasoning. Most people at least have a decent excuse."

I hold up the sketchbook again, revealing my masterpiece – Mitsuhiro – "Booger Face" – with a bubble of snot protruding from his nose.

"Accurate, eh?" I snicker.

Yashiro rolls her eyes at me. "Stop being dumb."

It's at that moment I hear another person sneer in my direction, at the same time she passes me by. A girl who's just a year below me walks by, her nose in the air as always, eyes hidden behind her glasses, snickers, "Uzuki, stop being dumb? Please, that'll be impossible for someone like her."

Oops. Bad move.

Glaring back at her, I grip my sketchbook and bring it up, and the drawing of Mitsuhiro meets the girl's face in a hard strike, hard enough to give her a strong nosebleed.

"You fucking piece of shit!" I scream. Soon, it's not just the drawing striking her down, but my own fist, and before I know it, Yashiro is pulling me back, my sketchbook is dripping with blood, and my fist is fresh for a bruising.