The sun shone softly into his bedroom, through the drawn curtains.

It was time to get up, to start another new day.

He stretched, then dragged his body out of bed and to the shower. I never was a morning person, he thought wryly as he freshened up. As he brushed his teeth, he looked into the mirror; tired azure eyes stared back at him. Stifling a yawn, he grabbed a elastic band and quickly tied that skinny rattail of his.

He grabbed his tie off his chair and hung it on his neck. The top few buttons of his school blouse was undone, and the blouse itself was crumpled. He checked his reflection on the mirror; his tie, crumpled, hung loosely on his neck. His silvery-blue hair spiked upwards, and his school pants; unironed.

Grabbing his schoolbag, he set out from the house.

He had walked only a few feet when he realised he had forgotten something.

His mask. That playful, wild mask that he had worn for so long, that it was almost a part of him.

Niou Masaharu smiled. The dreary morning was over.