Chapter 2 – We Knew All This Time

My entire future was dissolving in front of my eyes.

Kenji stood there, a human shield of sincerity, ruining everything.

The goddess watched us, her golden eyes narrowed with what looked like divine annoyance. Reina and Daisuke stared, caught in the crossfire of my failed master plan and Kenji’s unwanted heroism.

This was a train wreck. A dumpster fire of friendship and good intentions.

I had to get this back on the rails.

My mind raced, scrambling for a new script. If I couldn’t be the shunned outcast, maybe I could be the noble sacrifice. That was another solid trope.

The guy who willingly walks into the darkness for the good of the group. They’d remember me tragically. It wasn’t a revenge arc, but it was something.

I forced a sad, world-weary smile.

“You don’t need to defend me, Kenji.”

I made my voice soft. Resigned.

“If it’s for the good of everyone, I’m willing to go. It’s okay.”

“NO!”

Kenji’s shout echoed in the infinite white room. He took a step toward me, his face twisted with way too much emotion.

“YOU DON’T NEED TO SACRIFICE YOURSELF ANYMORE!”

Anymore?

What was he talking about? My entire plan was built on being a ghost. A non-entity. I hadn’t sacrificed anything. I’d just been setting the stage. This guy was delusional.

“We know, Ryuuji.”

Kenji’s voice dropped, thick with a weird, reverent guilt.

“We’ve always known. I tried to respect that you wanted to stay in the shadows, but this is too far.”

He saw my confusion. It only made him more determined.

“The mid-term exams last year. The school network went down with everyone’s final projects on it. The IT guys said it would take a week to fix, but the next morning, it was back online. The code was patched with a brilliant, anonymous fix. I saw you leaving the computer lab at three in the morning, man. You looked like a zombie.”

My stomach went cold.

“And Reina, remember when you lost your grandmother’s locket at the sports festival? We all looked for it, but you were heartbroken. The next day, it was sitting in your shoe locker, polished and perfect. I saw you later that night, Ryuuji, searching the entire soccer field with your phone’s flashlight long after everyone else went home.”

Reina’s hand flew to her chest, her eyes wide.

“That was you?”

Daisuke, who had been silent this whole time, grunted. He pointed a thumb at his own chest.

“My math grade. I was going to be kicked out of the kendo club. Then a study guide showed up on my desk. It explained everything, step-by-step. It was in your handwriting.”

This couldn’t be happening. They weren’t supposed to notice.

The whole point of being a shadow helper was the “shadow” part. I wasn’t a hero. I was just method acting.

Damn it. I was bad at being a loner.

The goddess cleared her throat, a sharp, impatient sound.

“This is all very touching, but the decree is absolute. The balance is off. The world requires four heroes, but one of you is… incompatible. Someone must be sent away.”

Her gaze flickered to me. She clearly still wanted me gone. This was my chance. Maybe her impatience would override their friendship.

“Then send me!”

Reina stepped forward, her jaw set.

“No, me!”

Daisuke moved to her side, puffing out his chest. They were all trying to be martyrs.

They turned my brilliant, edgy trope into a bad after-school special.

What have I done?

A hot tear slid down my cheek. It wasn’t a tear of sadness, or gratitude, or any of that noble garbage. It was a tear of pure, uncut rage.

My fists were clenched so tight my knuckles were white.

Reina’s face softened at the sight. Her own eyes looked a little misty.

“Oh, Ryuuji… you don’t have to hold it in anymore.”

Daisuke gave me a clumsy, awkward pat on the shoulder. Kenji’s voice dripped with that sickeningly earnest sincerity.

“It’s okay, man, we’re here for you. We’re not going to let you be alone.”

They thought these were tears of joy. Of emotional release. The sheer, weapons-grade cringe of the moment was suffocating me.

My jaw ached from gritting my teeth. The single word I pushed past them was meant to be an accusation—a demand.

“Why?”

It came out as a choked whisper instead.

“Why are you doing this?”

Kenji misunderstood the question completely. He beamed, like I’d just asked the most obvious thing in the world.

“Because we’re your friends, dude.”

His answer was so simple, so painfully sincere, it felt like a punch to the gut.

“If this goddess doesn’t want you, then we don’t want her. If she banishes you, she’ll have to banish all of us.”

“You…”

You’re ruining everything! You’re getting in my way!

The words were on the tip of my tongue. I wanted to scream them. I wanted to shake them until they understood the magnificent, dark destiny they were so cheerfully wrecking.

But the words wouldn’t come out.

Kenji turned away from me. He squared his shoulders and faced the goddess, his expression shifting from concerned friend to defiant hero.

He pointed a finger directly at the divine being.

“We’re not going to let you push him around. You picked the wrong people to mess with.”

He paused for dramatic effect.

“Goddess. We will get our revenge.”

No. He didn’t. He did not just say that.

He stole my plot. He stole my motivation.

He stole my line.