Lives Too Small
Misaki Ryou stared out the window. He'd long given up on taking notes in this class. In any class, really. He didn't need to. Classes were boring. Everyone around him was dumb. That was why they all had to sit for so long and listen to the teachers drone on and on. They had to walk everybody through every step of everything at least twice, and people still got it wrong. Couldn't people just draw their own conclusions? It seemed like nobody thought anything through to its logical conclusions.
He and all the teachers had a deal. He turned in his work, and they left him alone. He'd brought manga to class a few times, read them during lessons. But the teachers had complained that it distracted the other students, so he'd had to quit.,
Now, as usual, he sat and stared at the window and made no expression whatsoever. Nobody looking at him would have any inkling that he was imagining the deaths of his acquaintances, even the teacher. The mental violence was bloodless; he'd never actually hit or hurt anybody outside of The World, and while there were days he itched to change that, he didn't have the courage to go through with it. He didn't want to get in trouble.
His parents were only ever a nuisance when he was bad. So he made sure to be good. All the time.
In The World, his green-haired alter ego is dancing, spinning, slitting throats. He makes sound-effects for his exploits and smiles as he collects member addresses.
Ryou pulled the headset off, turned off his monitor, and crawled into bed. He pulled the covers up to his chin and waited.
Soon enough, he heard footsteps outside his room.
His mother knocked on the door. He knew it was her because she gave exactly two knocks—his father gave exactly one or exactly three—and then called out, "Ryou-kun, are you awake?"
Instead of answering, he closed his eyes.
The door opened. His mother took a few steps into the room, paused, and then left.
"He's asleep," she told someone (most likely his father) in hushed tones. "I still can't believe you bought him a new pair of NeuroGoggles."
His father grumble-mumbled something in reply. What Misaki Katsuya bought his son was a regular argument. Maybe it was because Katsuya felt guilty for being a Sunday Father and never seeing his son, but he had a tendency to buy Ryou whatever he wanted. In any case, it often irritated Misaki Kasumi.
She was of the opinion that they shouldn't coddle him.
Ryou wasn't fond of either of his parents. His father was a pushover, because he was guilty, and his mother was really hard on him. Worse, they both basically ignored him unless he mad a nuisance of himself. Some days, he wanted to become a hikikomori out of spite.
Some days, Sora could swear he feels his victims die in his arms.
He watches appreciatively as BT dies for like the thousandth time. He's been tracking her for an hour just for this moment.
It's delicious.
"Takana-sensei told me that you were rude to him today," his mother said. Her voice was stern. Her lips had pressed together in that thin line that meant he was in serious trouble.
Even though she had short hair and wore normal clothes, for some reason, Ryou always imagined his mother in the severe bun hairstyles of Meiji-era Japan and a yukata. Today she was wearing a pink sweater and brown slacks. She'd been out doing something formal or something today.
"I just told him that all the answers were in the back of everybody's books. It's true."
"True or not, you shouldn't have pointed out your teacher's mistake. It's very rude." His mother sighed and flicked on her turn signal before changing lanes. "Why do I have to tell you these things?"
"So, what, if my teacher said there was no gravity and everything fell up, I should just be quiet and not say anything?"
"That's exactly right. And no dessert tonight, for back-talking, young man." The car slowed in front of their house, then stopped. The car didn't even jerk back slightly after it came to a complete stop. She put the car in park and twisted back to grab his backpack.
His mother was very good at driving. Privately, Ryou didn't think she was good at much else.
"Or should I come… down?" Sora presses the attack button. His katar slides into the wood easily.
Mimiru lets out a muffled squeak, then crawls out from under the skydock.
The truth was, Misaki Ryou hated his home life. He hated authority, so he wasn't fond of his parents or teaches, hated stupidity, so he didn't like his classmates, hated it when people were taller than he was.
There were days Misaki Ryou basically hated the universe, just for existing. Stuck in classes that were too dumb for him. Parents that expecting either way too much or definitely not enough. Teachers who didn't know what to do with him. Killing other players was, essentially, kicking back at a universe that had shat all over him.
He didn't know what he'd do without The World.