Ayano × Info-kun

W4 Monday, 22 April

8am:

3rd Person POV:

Classes would begin in half an hour's time, and students were roaming the school grounds as most would usually do. Some were rushing to copy their classmate's homework, some were chit chatting, and some were just not having a good morning.

"What happened days ago, just leave them all in the past. It's a new day, and I'm going to take it head on!"

Confidence radiating and head held up high, other students could only admire that energy. Determination, optimism, resilience, it was like if an indestructible shield were a human, marching the school grounds.

"I'm not gonna let anyone get in my way-" and that's where things went south, "I'm a failure." All confidence from before washed away as gravity slapped Budo in the face. Or rather, the back.

Like a tangled Slinky, Budo tripped on his own foot, tumbling down the flight of stairs he was descending and landed at the bottom of the flight with a loud thump. Students rushed over to help, but he just laid there, face flat on the cool tiles, becoming one with the floor.

"Budo-senpai...um...are you alright?" Ayano asked. She had witnessed that spectacular show, and was trying to hold in her laughter out of respect. She crouched next to Budo's unmoving body, poking his arm.

"After all that hardwork..." he mumbled.

"Huh?"

"I'm sorry Raibaru, I'm sorry, mum... God I've been falling for a long time."

"Uh...actually, Budo-senpai, you've already landed on the floor. Do you want to get up? The tiles are kind of dirty..."

Budo lifted his hand waved at Ayano dismissively. He wanted to stay on the ground. Whether or not he noticed all the stares that he was getting, he sure seemed unbothered on the floor.

"Why am I like this..." he muttered, dejected, "out there, there are so many people, most having contributed quite a lot. Yet here I am, useless on the ground without a purpose for my existence."

"M..matsuda-san..." another student mumbled awkwardly.

"Budo-kun..." another called out.

"Ah yes, I'm the Martial Arts Club's leader. But what kind of leader am I if I have face-planted onto the ground, quite literally at rock bottom, at only eight-something in the morning?"

"Matsuda-san... there are classes soon... You can't keep lying here on the ground," one of the people crowding around Budo, presumably a classmate, reminded as politely as they could.

"I'll get to class when I do. Not that it matters anyways. Whether I show up or not for class, it doesn't matter. I'm not that significant enough for there to be a difference as to whether or not I show up. I doubt anyone would remember if I'm in class or not... Well, I suppose I would be remembered as that guy who flew down the stairs and into the floor like a total idiot, or just 'the Martial Arts Club club president'."

He sighed again, for the thousandth time that morning, "And other than those titles... I doubt I'm anything more. I guess I won't be finding my purpose in life today..."

"Um..."

The crowd was slowly dispersing, and only Ayano was left. "Are you comfortable down there?" She asked stiffly, still crouched next to her friend's limp form.

"Well, the floor's really cold. Like the cold clammy hands of death. Will I ever find any meaning to this life before I meet my end? Well, you should get to class now, Ayano-chan. I'll see you later, maybe."