Some people chase power.
I didn't.
Some people chase fame.
I didn't.
Some people chase recognition.
I didn't.
Yet the world refused to leave me alone.
By morning, whispers followed me like a shadow.
Anonymous rescues. Unregistered involvement. The "ghost" who cleans problems no one wants public.
Takumi appeared again at school, leaning lazily against the railing, hands in pockets.
"You crossed a line," he said casually.
"I didn't draw it," I replied.
"Doesn't matter."
He glanced around, lowering his voice. "Some want you recruited. Some want you controlled. Others… want you erased before you become inconvenient."
I stared ahead. "And you?"
He smiled. "I just want to see which you become."
That afternoon, I walked the long route home. Not out of fear. Habit dies slowly.
A scream cut the air.
Three men. One woman pinned against a wall.
I sighed.
No powers. No heroics. Just timing, movement, and observation.
By the time they realized I was there, it was over.
The woman looked at me like I was unreal. "Are you… a hero?"
I shook my head. "No."
From a rooftop, someone watched everything. Not hostility. Not malice. Interest.
Team Arata noted my actions, silent and calculating.
The more I tried to stay invisible, the more the world focused.