
He wanted to go home: he didn't fit in here. He never had.
He'd tried.
But every try had ended in failure. He always looked the wrong way. Said the wrong thing. Asked the wrong questions. Every turn he took led to embarrassment. To offence. To stupidity.
He was lonely. He wanted friends. He didn't have anyone in class and didn't have anyone in school. He hadn't seen anyone he knew in ages. He'd cried about it to his parents, but they just didn't get it. He didn't blame them - he didn't get it. It was so easy to make friends in Japan - they could talk about popular TikToks, discuss anime or games or the dramas on TV. He didn't have any of those here.
And everyone spoke a bunch of weird languages. And he couldn't build a career for himself here. Couldn't build a future. The culture was different. People's tastes in media was different. Weird, even. How was he supposed to fit in? He hadn't even come here by choice. And he still couldn't go back. Not until he figured out how to get rid of his powers for good. He hated them. Hated his eyes. Hated his illusions. Hated his everything.
He hated it all.
Something had to change, but what? What could he even do? He kicked a stone, angry tears spilling onto the pavement as the cloudy sky circled above. He couldn't even see the stars. Stupid island. Stupid powers. Stupid life.
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