"One day you'll have to face it… this reality of yours. You can't stay ignorant forever. Burn this into your memory, Aster." Those words echoed—distant, warped, like something spoken in a half-forgotten dream.
Spiral Power. The core of existence itself. It fuels galaxies, binds universes, ignites worlds. It pulses within every creature, every thought, every whispered intention. A limitless engine of evolution.
And yet… in this spiral-fueled world, there exists a boy utterly devoid of that privilege.
"Aster! WAKE UP! It's 7:40! ARE YOU DEAF!? YOU'RE GONNA BE LATE!" The voice stabbed through the thin walls of the cramped apartment, sharp with irritation. But the boy lying sprawled across his bed didn't react—not immediately. Aster just blinked, expression blank, letting the noise wash over him.
Apathy wasn't something he chose. It was something life carved into him. Nothing ever seemed to go right. He had a thin, almost fragile frame—slouched posture, messy black hair that refused to stay brushed, earphones often dangling around his neck more out of habit than style. His clothes never looked ironed, just… lived-in. His dull, half-awake eyes always carried this quiet heaviness, like the world demanded more of him than he had to give.
And home? Home never felt like home. His parents were always fighting—sometimes because of him, sometimes because of everything but him. They weren't bad people, not at heart. Just a terrible match forced to coexist under the same collapsing roof.
And the only thing holding their marriage together…was probably Aster himself.
The door slammed open with enough force to shake the frame. "Now you're just asking for it! DO I HAVE TO SAY IT TEN TIMES!?" The familiar voice belonged to Aster's mother,sharp, irritated, and already done with the day.
Aster rubbed his eyes. "Calm down… I'm waking up, alright?" He pushed himself upright, moving too lazily for his own good—snap. One of his earbud wires caught on his knee and tore clean off. Aster froze. "...…."
How bad could the day start? Then again, he knew the universe well enough: it could always get worse. He picked up the dead earbud, silently folded the wire, and stuffed it into his pocket like a funeral. Then he shoved the remaining one into his ear and played a song, letting the music drown out everything he didn't want to feel.
The bathroom mirror greeted him with his own face—lean, tired, unimpressed.
"Tsch. What a joke." He never liked what he saw. He wasn't sure he ever would. Getting ready was just another chore. Brush teeth. Wash face. Throw on clothes. Force himself through motions he didn't care about. By the end of it, he already felt drained again. School didn't promise much—he barely understood the syllabus anyway—so his only real plan was to catch sleep in class and hope no one bothered him.
He stepped out of his room, didn't bother saying goodbye, but at least he shut the door before descending the stairs. Outside, waiting by the gate with one hand in his pocket and a faint grin on his face,was Sora. One of the very few people Aster didn't mind in his apathetic little world.
Sora was already waiting outside, grinning for absolutely no reason—though with him, he never needed one. "I see," he said the moment Aster stepped out, "you didn't come today either." "Did I not? Hm. I'll… see about it tomorrow, I guess." Aster's voice was neutral, flat—he knew damn well he didn't come because he simply didn't feel like it.
"You always say that." Sora didn't sound disappointed—if anything, amused. "Then again… I still believe you'll actually show up one day." "Right, right." Aster replied with that same tired tone, like he was carrying the weight of the universe despite barely carrying his schoolbag. "Guess I'll have to wait more, huh? Very exciting. Genuinely." Sora deadpanned, sarcasm as dry as a desert.
And just like that, the two fell into their usual rhythm—casual banter, light bickering, a strange mix of contrast and comfort—walking toward Kenzei High School.
Once inside the academy gates, they split off toward their respective classes. Aster headed to his usual spot: the last seat in the corner-most row. Isolated. Comfortable. The throne of every professional sleeper.
He set his bag down, let out the quietest sigh, and immediately got to the only work he ever intended to do at school. Sleeping.
"Aster, wake up… hey… wake up." Aster could hear a hushed voice trying to drag him out of the little peace he had left. "Wha…?" he mumbled, groggily lifting his head. His whole body ached—the usual. "What's up?" he muttered, rubbing the heaviness out of his eyes. "The class is almost over. Try not to knock out again or Sir Helm will catch you," said the boy sitting in front of him.
The kid was thin. And ugly—really ugly. But Aster didn't mind. If anything, he felt a weird sense of belonging with him, the same kind he had with Sora. Like recognizing another person who never seemed to catch a break. Aster nodded lazily, and the boy turned back to the board. A few minutes later, the bell rang. Bags rustled, chairs screeched, conversations bloomed instantly. Aster stretched, half-dead, half-ready to sleep again.
"Listen here, Rei, you creep." A girl stormed up to the boy in front—Rei—and slammed her hand on his desk. "If I see you glaring at me one more time, you're done for. Got that, you creepy little bastard?" "Huh? But I didn't do anything?" Rei blinked, genuinely confused. "Yeah, keep making excuses, buddy. We totally believe you." Her voice dripped with sarcasm. "Listen, I don't care about your stories. Stare at me one more time and my boyfriend will hear about it. And trust me, you won't like that."
Rei stood up, picked up his bag, sighed. "Sure, lady. Whatever you say, I guess." He turned to leave,only for another boy to step in front of him. "Think you can dismiss her like that? Do you know who she even is?" the guy growled, puffing his chest.
Rei stared at him, deadpan. "What is she, your owner?" "You!"
The punch never landed. Rei's hand shot up, grabbing the guy's fist mid-air. He pushed him aside like a door that wouldn't open properly, then simply walked out. Aster yawned, slumped back into his seat. "What bad luck that guy has…"
Another guy stepped up to Aster's desk, irritation already painted across his face.
"Hey, what are you mumbling about, huh?" Aster didn't even bother replying. He just stared at the window, the grey clouds outside matching his mood a little too perfectly.
By the time school ended, the sky had turned heavy and cold. It wasn't raining yet, but the air felt like it wanted to. Aster walked home with bruises blooming across his arms, disheveled hair sticking to his forehead, and his uniform damp from a puddle someone had shoved him into on the way out. Nothing out of the ordinary. Just another day.
Standing beside a vending machine near the curb was Rei. "How're you wet when it's not even raining yet, dude…" Rei asked without turning, clearly having heard Aster's steps. "I'd rather not go into the details," Aster muttered. "What about you? What're you doing here?" "Nothing much. This damn vending machine swallowed my seventy Kami Dollars." Rei huffed, glaring at the machine like it personally wronged him. "Didn't even blink." "You're awfully calm for someone who just lost seventy bucks," Aster pointed out.
Rei shrugged with the tired acceptance of a man who had fought fate and lost every single time. "Yeah, well… nothing unusual. My usual bad luck." "Sucks, I guess." "Yeah, but we all gotta suck up our faults one way or another," Rei said as if reciting a lifetime philosophy forged from misery. "I guess so."
Aster adjusted his half-torn school bag and began walking away, his mind drifting despite how much he didn't want it to. Rei… he's thin, he's ugly, and his luck is straight-up a cosmic joke. But in the face of all that, he just… stands there. Gets shoved around every day, treated like trash, and still walks away without a scratch. Meanwhile? I take one look away and I end up getting hit for him. Why? Because I didn't fight back? But what would've happened if I did? It would've gotten worse… it always gets worse.
He pressed his palm against his forehead. Ugh… my head hurts just thinking about all this crap.
Aster could already hear the yelling before he even reached the front door.
Of course he could. He pushed the door open and—surprise, surprise—there they were. His parents, mid-argument, voices sharp enough to carve the air. "Can you guys like… not argue for once or something?" Aster muttered, dropping his bag with a dull thud.
Both parents turned. His mother, already flaring from the fight, shot him a look and immediately stormed off to the bedroom, slamming the door hard enough to rattle the frame. His father stayed behind, jaw tense, shoulders stiff. "Sorry you had to see that," he said—guilt strained under irritation, like he wasn't sure which emotion he was supposed to choose. "Well… not the first time, I guess." Aster didn't wait for a response. He just trudged up the stairs and into his room.
He fell onto his bed face-first, his earphones still playing faint static-laced music from the one working bud. He didn't bother changing, didn't bother thinking—sleep tugged at him, and he let it drag him under.
Sometime later—minutes, hours, he couldn't tell—voices bled through the haze of half-consciousness. "I can't do this, Geral! YOU'RE A PAIN! I WISH I NEVER MET YOU!"
His mother's voice cracked like glass. "I'VE TOLERATED YOU ALL THIS TIME FOR WHAT!? THAT DEPRESSED DEAD-BEAT OF A CHILD!?" A crash—something knocked over. "I'VE HAD ENOUGH! ENOUGH!" The sounds warped and blurred as Aster drifted in and out, too exhausted to even register the full weight of what he was hearing. Or maybe he simply didn't want to.
Darkness pulled him back in, and somewhere within it—
soft, distant, almost like a memory— "One day you'll have to face it… this reality of yours.
You cannot stay ignorant forever. Burn this into your memory, Aster…"
The next day, the house was a mess—things scattered everywhere like a storm had passed through. No one came to wake him up. His mother was nowhere to be found. The only other person in the house was his father, drinking in his room… It felt strange. It felt like something that was already empty had somehow shattered further.
Staying inside felt suffocating, so Aster went out for a walk, earphones still plugged in, desperately trying to drown out the noise of his life. Nothing worked. There was this strange feeling—he couldn't even name it yet—but it sat there in his chest, refusing to go away. Tired of trying to distract himself, he checked his Spiral Phone.
Dead. Aster tried manually charging it, only to remember the obvious.
He had no Spiral Energy to begin with.
"Of course it doesn't work." He shoved the phone back into his pocket and kept walking. On his way back home, something caught his eye, 'Prodigy Nakim's Exclusive Interview' flashing on a public Spiral TV. Aster normally never cared about these things, but he stopped anyway. Maybe… maybe it could distract him.
"So in your past experiences, would you like to say anything about how you overcame your challenges and walls?" the interviewer asked, the camera turning to Nakim. Nakim, thin but confident—straightened his posture. "Challenges? Yeah, I faced challenges. Everyone does. Everyone has to overcome their walls one way or another."
Aster scoffed and turned away. "Yeah right, as if you understand anything about any of us, you privileged bastard." He started walking, but the next line froze him in place. "People's situations might be different," Nakim continued, "but is that a reason to avoid your reality? No. I might have had better conditions growing up—but the ones who came before us? What about them? They lived underground, cut off from the overworld. Privilege wasn't luxury—it was survival. And yet they challenged fate. And they overcame it."
Aster's breath caught. Nakim looked dead into the camera. "To everyone here, I want to say: You can't avoid your reality. So embrace it, and change it. Thank you."
Aster's hand tightened into a fist… "…That so, huh?" And Aster broke into a run, tears falling down his cheeks as he sprinted toward home.