Chapter 3: 2.1 Spirited Away

“Akgh!” Hasegawa Satou yelped out in pain.

Out of nowhere, a sharp sudden object had struck him in the head, and awoken from his pleasant nap, he heard giggles all around him.

“You should be sleeping at night, mister. Or do you not have a bed at home?” A kindly yet sarcastic voice said to him. It carried with it, a veil of derision that lingered subtly obvious.

Raising his head, he looked around, and found amused stares and derisive smiles greet back his weary eyes. Seeing so many stares, filled him with a sense of embarrassment; it made him shrink instinctively.

But as his lethargy began to clear away, and what had transpired gradually dawned on him, he almost as quickly calmed back down.

This wasn’t anything new. In fact, at this point it was a routine. To be called out for not paying attention was something Satou was quite well known for by now.

“Sorry…” Like clockwork, Satou stood upright, and gave his usual apology in his low and morose tone that had become the only tone he could speak in. The apology—a single word that everyone had heard from him countless times already, was met with a sigh.

The teacher’s sharp gaze stayed on him for a few seconds; then, with a discouraged frown, the teacher turned around. Knowing full well that chastising Satou was a useless endeavor, he planned to move on.

But just as Satou sat back down, something struck him back in the head once more. This time, from behind.

“Damn, aren’t you annoying to listen to.” Someone behind him said, “Speak up otaku, do something other than mumble like an idiot sometimes.” A hushed but fairly loud voice chastised him from behind.

Hearing that insult at him, said with such arrogance, filled Satou with a sudden intense rage. But instead of a rebuttal or a glare back, he only kept his head down and quietly sat back down.

When the interloper saw this, he clicked his tongue. But before he could say more, a chalk flew and greeted him square in the head, “Akgh! Who!” He cried out in anger.

“And you, shut it.” The teacher said in a flat and unamused voice. It wasn’t loud or stern, but the frown on face left no room for any more cries.

The classroom broke into laughter at the comedic scene that unfolded before them though, and clearly having learnt nothing whatsoever, the delinquent furtively rubbed his head as he glared back at his group of friends who chuckled at him from afar in amusement.

Shut up, all of you… Satou grumbled inwardly as he kept his head down. Just go die somewhere else and shut up…

“Alright, quiet! I need to finish this lesson before the end of this class, and I won’t tolerate any more distractions from anyone! Am I understood!” The teacher declared in a tone of authority, his gaze swept across the room for any dissidents, and as expected, none came. The students with their backs straight and gaze focused, did not reply and tacitly acknowledged his wish. The teacher too, keen to move on, began once more.

“Hm, alright, where was I—? Hm, ah yes, the—”

Even though you were the one to start this whole shtick. Satou rebutted inwardly, but kept his thoughts to himself.

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The class from there on went on as usual. Satou now awake but absent in mind, began to look around for anything of interest to alleviate his soul-crushing boredom. Looking around, he found less than many of his peers genuinely payed attention, while the others merely staring ahead, pretending so as to not get caught.

The history class teacher was a stern man, with a large frame and a stubble that matched his temperament. No one wanted to face his ire, and just his sharp gaze alone, he could petrify anyone who dared to step out of line; even the usual trouble makers stayed quiet when it came to him.

Satou sighed inwardly as he began to slouch forward. History; he vehemently hated it. To him, it acted better as lullabies, that made time pass faster and slower at the same time.

He reclined back and looked out the window. From the 3^rd floor, his gaze swept past the scenery of trees mired amongst concrete structures of the modern world with rarely any patch of open area, and quickly landed on the only thing of sufficient interest to him— the school gates. To Satou, they shined like the beacons of freedom. Looking at them filled Satou with a deep sense of melancholy, so much so that he felt himself almost shedding a tear. His feelings of indignation and helplessness at being caged against his will for five hours five days a week, doing something he vehemently hated, he hated it. Especially when he wanted to do other things back home.

After this is recess, then more classes— I really want to go home~ He cried inwardly. Go home and finish that manga. Just three more chapters left…

Hasegawa Satou was, like countless other otakus of the times, someone who thoroughly enjoyed spending his time reading manga of all mediums. Specifically, his favorite being this genre called isekai.

To get to live in a fantasy world. What a lucky son of bitch you are— Ahh, I want to be one… He grumbled inwardly as he slouched over his desk. Heh, maybe getting run over by a truck wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Smiling, amused by his own thoughts, he stretched out his arms in front of him— half for a yawn, and half because he found himself feeling awkward by his own thoughts. He realized that for a brief moment there, he seriously considered this fantasy of his.

Well— even it failed, it would still be better than this shitty life I have, that’s for sure. He mused to himself.

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Satou was an introvert and a social outcast with no friends whatsoever, and that had been the case for a very long time, for as long as he could remember. He was a shut-in whose loner-lifestyle extended beyond just his school, who at home would spend most of his time locked inside his room either playing video games, or watching or reading some anime of various sorts.

He was someone who had no aspirations, no hobbies, let alone any desire to change himself. Maybe at the start of high school he had in him some motivation to to turn over a new leaf, as they say, but in the end, he relapsed and went back to his old ways.

Alas— now in the final year of his high school, he only had one desire left in him— to become a hikikomori as soon as he graduated, and live like that for the rest of his life. With just that, he felt that his life would be just the way he wanted: which was good enough.

The thought of isekaing himself voluntarily did not make him chuckle out of its perversity, no, but because of its absurdity. Inside him, he felt that if there really was such a thing such as ‘isekai’, he would himself willingly commit the act readily with glee. He’d only wish for a quick end.

But no one really knows what happens to someone after death right? Scientists may claim that they know so, but the ultimate proof, to experience it firsthand would trump it all no? Bored, he began to muse on a topic he knew quite well to be silly, but one that deep down he wanted to be true.

Yes, the ultimate proof, would be to try it out yourself. He could not help himself but let out a smirk on his face, I hope there’s a God. So that he could isekai me to some place nicer. I better get a good roll for my next life I swear. If possible, I want to be reborn in a pretty well-developed high fantasy world, as an aristocrat with some handy abilities, powerful magical abilities if so. Yes! A world with just basic amenities already in place would be good! After all, medieval lifestyle’s actually pretty terrible. I’d like staying clean whenever possible, so basic sanitary technology and a proper sewage system should at least be the bare minimum…

Riiinnnngg!

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a shattering ringing. Disappointed yet elated at the same time, Satou stood up like everyone else. The ringing marked the end of his history class and the beginning of recess.

The students stood up and bowed to their teacher, who promptly left without leaving so much as a word with his belongings. He too it seemed, did not wanted to spend any more of his time with them than he was payed for. With him now gone, the class soon after erupted into a pandemonium of gossips almost instantly.

Being restless and the most eager to leave this place, Satou became the first to reach the door. But as soon as tried to run out—

“Akgh!”

Satou fell down with an almost broken nose after crashing into something hard, as if he had just run into a hard-flat wall; except, when he looked up as he clutched his nose in pain, he found but a wide-open door instead. The sight of it greatly puzzled him.

What? What happened just now?

But before he or anyone could comprehend any further, something even more surreal unfolded before everyone’s very eyes. The whole classroom suddenly went abnormally dark. Then, under their feet, the floor lit up in a bright flash of white light that flooded everyone in it.

““Kyaaaa!!””

Pandemonium erupted as everyone tried to distance themselves from the shining floor, standing on their chairs and desks to do so. Everyone panicked, except for Satou, who simply remained frozen on the ground, mesmerized by the light under him like a moth to a flame. At a closer inspection, squinting his eyes, he saw that these lights had intricate patterns that resembled circuits, no, magic circuits!

But before Satou had the time to parse out what he was looking at, the ethereal white light exponentially grew brighter and brighter, and before long, it enveloped the whole of Satou’s periphery. In the overwhelming light that drowned sound itself, he found himself hit by an extreme feeling of drowsiness, and before long, lost his consciousness.

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Back in the classroom, the ethereal white radiance disappeared just as quickly as it had manifested. The history teacher hearing the terrified screams of students, rushed back in to check what had happened. Instead of what he expected, he was greeted by the sight of an empty classroom with fallen furniture scattered all around. The white radiance was gone, and the room appeared abnormally normal and quiet, completely barren of any life.

The incident was quickly reported to the police, who subsequently launched a full-scale investigation into the matter, and yet, they found no lead even after a month of investigation.

Forty-three students had disappeared under bafflingly ordinary circumstances, leaving no traces of their whereabouts whatsoever; the camera footage from outside the hallway only captured a momentary flash of bright light erupting from inside. Their only leads, was a dead end.

When the news of the incident spread, it quickly blew up. The incident quickly became known as the ‘12A Spirited Away Incident’ and became global due to its mysterious nature. But despite its publicity, no progress ever came out of it.

The case was, as was inevitable, went cold just as quickly as the white radiance, and the police unable to think up of even a possible, rational hypothesis, raised their hands in indignant defeat. No motive, no suspect, lack of lead, nor any viable anecdotes— such an outcome was inevitable from the very start.

On the other hand, Classroom 12^th A had been turned into a memorial that stood solitary, alone, and locked away. Withered flowers and the pictures of the missing students littered its doorway in memory of those that are now perhaps forever lost. And while most would forget about this incident, merely to stay as a phantom in the minds of most, the parents of those lost would perhaps never will.

That all said and done, the mystery to what had happened to those forty-two students that had mysteriously disappeared, would perhaps never be solved.

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