I'm in.
"Oi, sewer rat."
Ragna recognized the voice but chose to ignore it.
"I'm talking to you, Ragna!"
Laughter echoed in the background as three boys sauntered over, cornering him against the wall.
"Oi, he's talking to you, shit-face," one of them sneered.
"Eww, fuck—you stink! Anyone got a nose mask? Feels like I'm walking past a garbage dump."
The whole class erupted in laughter.
"What do you want, Billy?" Gensu asked from his seat.
"None of your business, Gensu."
Billy shot him a cold stare. Gensu froze and looked away.
"Man, Ragna, your personal hygiene is a straight-up biohazard."
They burst out laughing again.
Billy stepped closer, towering over him with a smug grin. He was the tallest of the three—broad-shouldered, with slicked-back dark hair, sharp features, and a permanent arrogant smirk that made his piercing blue eyes look even colder.
"You look like you just crawled out of a dumpster and threw on whatever rags were stuck to you. Not sure which is dirtier—your clothes or you. Your family's so broke, I'm surprised you can even afford to breathe."
"Haha, Billy, you're a monster!" the first boy cackled. He was shorter and stockier than Billy, with a round face, messy blond spikes, and a freckled nose twisted in mockery.
"Ragna must've declared bankruptcy on soap and water," the second boy added, folding his arms. Lean and wiry, he had sharp cheekbones, neatly combed black hair, and a sly, fox-like smile that showed off perfect white teeth.
"Hey, everyone! This smell is a crime scene—do not approach without hazmat gear!"
The class howled.
"You're a fragrant bouquet of failure, Ragna. A stinky symphony of sadness. You're a mess—a hot mess—a toxic waste of a human being. Not sure where I'd even start cleaning you up."
Murmurs rippled through the room and then people started gathering in the class.
"What a loser."
"Someone like him shouldn't be in this school."
"They should expel him already."
"All that, and he's lazy as hell."
Billy spread his arms, feeding off the attention. "See, Ragna? Nobody likes you. Well... except maybe your little friend over there—though I'm not even sure about that. Everyone hates you. Everyone detests you."
Ragna finally looked up. "So... that's supposed to affect me how?"
Billy's face twisted with fury. He swung his hand and slapped Ragna hard across the back of the head.
"Hey—don't touch me again," Ragna said, standing up slowly. He met Billy's eyes without blinking. "You can insult me all you want, but don't you dare lay a hand on me."
Suddenly, the bell rang.
Billy smirked one last time. "Guess it's lunch time. Though I don't expect you've got anything to eat. Sayonara, Ragna."
Billy and his crew finally sauntered out, their laughter fading down the hallway.
Ragna sank back into his seat, staring at the desk in front of him.
"I'm so sorry about that, Ragna," Gensu said quietly, leaning over. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine." Ragna grabbed his worn backpack and slung it over his shoulder. "Sorry, I have somewhere to be."
"Heading out already? It's only twelve," Gensu called after him, but Ragna was already gone, the classroom door clicking shut behind him.
By 2:00 p.m., Ragna was at McDonney's Dojo, a modest building not far from his house. He'd finished his duties—sweeping the floors, wiping down the mats, tidying the equipment—as the unofficial errand boy and cleaner they tolerated in exchange for occasional lessons.
Now outside, he leaned his back against a wooden pillar at the entrance, eyes closed, letting the fresh afternoon breeze wash over him. The warm sun bathed his face in a gentle glow, while the soft rustle of leaves from nearby trees whispered like a lullaby. He breathed deeply, meditating, clearing the morning's venom from his mind and drawing on the quiet strength within.
It felt like hours of peace—until a sharp voice shattered it.
"Hey!"
Ragna opened his eyes and turned. Standing before him was one of the dojo's senior students, a girl named Kira. She stood with her arms crossed, her posture perfect and imperious. Long, silky black hair cascaded down her back in a high ponytail tied with an expensive red ribbon, and her pristine white gi looked custom-tailored—crisp, embroidered with subtle gold threading that hinted at family wealth. Her designer sneakers peeked out beneath the hem, and a delicate gold necklace glinted at her throat. Everything about her screamed privilege: flawless skin, manicured nails, and an expression of bored superiority that came from never having to want for anything.
"What's with that gloomy look on your face?" she sneered, wrinkling her nose. "Are you so poor you can't afford a decent smile? Or maybe a toothbrush? Come on, tell me—are you hiding those teeth for a reason?"
Ragna met her gaze evenly. "I'm not your boyfriend or your father. Why should I smile for you?"
She recoiled slightly, disgust flashing across her pretty features. "Ugh, please don't disgust me further. Anyway, the master wants to see you." With a dramatic flip of her ponytail, she turned and strode back inside.
Ragna exhaled slowly, gathering his energy before pushing himself to his feet. He started toward the dojo entrance, then—almost by instinct—tilted his head back to gaze at the vast expanse of clear blue sky.
That's when he saw them.
Tiny figures streaking across the heavens. At first, he thought it was a bird or a plane, but as he watched, the figures grew larger and more defined.
It wasn't until a few moments had passed that realization dawned on him.
Those weren't birds. Or planes.
They were ...meteorites.
He stopped dead on his tracks, his eyes fixed on the sky.
Meteorites? What were meteorites doing in the sky? And why were they so… low?His thoughts froze.
Suddenly, panic flooded in. He looked around frantically, seeing the familiar street with new, terrified eyes. People strolled past, chatting, laughing—completely oblivious to the impending doom.He started walking backward, his pace quickening with every step, until he broke into a full run.
"Meteorites!" he yelled, waving his arms wildly.Oh no, oh no, oh no—what do I do? How can I survive this?He ran back and forth, desperately scanning for shelter. A tall building nearby caught his eye, and he sprinted toward it.
Is this building safe? Will it protect me from the impact? What if it's not just one—what if it's a whole shower?
As he ran, he muttered to himself, his mind spiraling through worst-case scenarios. He stumbled, nearly falling, but caught his balance at the last second.Finally, he skidded to a stop in front of the building and looked up again. The meteorites were closer now. He couldn't make out the rocks themselves yet, only the blazing trails of fire—like fallen stars bleeding flames—cutting sharp, distinct shapes against the bright blue sky.
"No, no, no, no, no," he whispered, eyes locked upward.
This can't be happening.Without thinking, he looked up once more, drawn helplessly to the sky. The meteorites were massive now, varying wildly in size, filling the heavens. Their shadows swept across the ground in dark, racing waves. A strange heat touched his skin, and a low, growing roar filled the air.Awe and terror crashed over him like a wave. For a moment, he forgot to breathe.
"Survival," he whispered, voice barely audible.
"I need to find a way to survive."