If one were to ask Minato Arisato what he desires most, he would mostly likely answer that he wants the whole world to disappear and only he and his music exists, even just for moments.

But this teenager possesses enough common sense that his wish is not possible. The world and the people in it just don't go POOF and disappear; that's just plainly absurd. On certain events though, he eventually wakes up in the middle of the night. In those nights, if he were to wait for a while, everything would turn into something . . . indescribable to the boy's eyes. His surroundings would become a harsh shade of green and the water would turn to blood. The moon would become significantly larger and the people would be encased in coffins. Those are the times he felt free from the world. And then, the world would eventually revert back to normal.

He didn't know—much less care—when that started. At least he gets his wish during those times . . . or at least half of his wish since his electronics would turn off and he wouldn't be able to resign to his rock and metal music. Indeed, it's such a shame.

Minato walked off of the train that transported him to Iwatodai and stepped into the platform. The loud chatter of the people surrounding him was drowned out by the music playing from his mp3.

So . . . this is Iwatodai, huh? Tch, lots of people are still here.

Arisato had moved several times already. All of the places he had stayed in had the same people. They were noisy, arrogant, and deleterious. Every trait that Minato disliked the most, the people had. Iwatodai looked like it wasn't much of a difference.

Tick, tock, tick. . . .

In a split-second, Iwatodai became the place that appears in the middle of the night. He made a mental smile. He didn't have the time and energy to do a physical smile. He pulled out his Iwatodai map from his pocket. His blank eyes scanned the routes to reach the dorm he was assigned to. In a matter of seconds, he had memorized the shortest and quickest path to the dorm.

He remained unfazed by the coffins and blood. He appreciated the silence. His footsteps echoed all around the city. That was the only sound that was made at that time. No cars were blowing their horns. There were no ladies catching up on their gossip. No food vendors were shouting to buy their products. It was just Minato and his footsteps.

Somewhere in the distance, Minato heard a man screaming like he was dying. What followed next was like some sort of lava flowing. Once the lava sound stopped, the man stopped screaming too.

It was probably my imagination.

That was the seventy-sixth time he heard that sound throughout his life. That was also the seventy-sixth time he dismissed it as his mere imagination.

After about more than half an hour, Minato reached his destination. His dorm looked like it had about three stories. The entrance to the dorm looked like what an entrance to a fourth-class hotel would have. Actually, the whole dorm looked like a hotel. The entrance had some steps and the doorway held two doors made of glass and high-quality wood. Minato stopped staring at the dorm and walked inside.

The interior of the dorm was pretty well-lit and didn't look green like it was outside. At his left was long counter with flower pots. In front was a television and at his right were two chairs and two sofas and in the middle of them was a table with a linen mat on top.

Not too—

"You're late," a young voice called out from the counter.

Minato swiftly looked at his left and found a close-to-albino boy with black and white pajamas. His hair was flattened but still a bit messy. The kid's eyes had a sky blue shade and they were so wide that they gave Minato a sense of eagerness. There was a tiny but still noticeable mole under the child's left eye. The mystery boy possessed a thin yet playful smile.

His presence is familiar . . .

The child continued, "I've been waiting a long time for you."

In a snap, the mystery was right in front of Minato. Minato could've said his usual "Personal space," but this child piqued his interest. Strange, no-one had ever piqued Minato's interest before.

"Now, if you want to proceed, please sign your name there." The child gestured to a thin red leather paper holder. It opened to show a single piece of paper. "It's a contract. Don't worry; all it says it that you'll accept responsibility for your actions. You know . . . the usual stuff . . ."

Time never waits.
It delivers all equally to the same end.
I hereby agree to the statement above,
and I chooseth this fate of mine own free will.

Minato didn't really need a contract. He was already aware of this before. He proceeded to sign his name in kanji on the signature block at the bottom with the feather pen next to the contract. Minato handed the signed contract to the mysterious boy. He really did pique his interest. The boy held the contract close.

"Contract received. Time delivers us all to the same end." The child magically made the contract vanish from thin air. "You can't plug your ears and cover your eyes."

The boy closed his eyes concentrated and let the darkness grasp him but . . .

It never came.

The boy started to sweat.

"Uh . . . this is most unusual. Gr . . ." The boy gritted his teeth and concentrated more. He just couldn't dissolve and disappear.

Minato thought that the boy was having a bit of trouble. "What's the problem, kid?" asked Arisato.

"I can't seem to—Gah!" The boy lost his energy and the well-lit dorm was engulfed with green. He was still there. "This is . . . an embarrassment—"

"Who's there?!" questioned a feminine voice from Minato's left. There stood a brunette with brown eyes, wearing a pink uniform and a black skirt. A red ribbon was fit around her collar. She was wearing a red armband with black figures. She was too far away for Minato to see the letters. Around her right thigh was a holster with a silver gun . . .

Aren't firearms banned from this school? Hell, I'm pretty sure firearms are banned from every school.

The kid was still here. The female was breathing deeply and was beaded with sweat. Minato didn't answer her, so she reached for her gun. But just when she was about to grab ahold of it, another voice from the stairs stopped her.

"Takeba, wait!"

On the stairs was a female senior with magenta hair and steely eyes. Her attire was the same as whom Makoto assumed was Takeba, but her uniform was white.

"But Kirijo-senpai!"

"Don't worry; he's an ordinary transfer student." The firmness of the voice of the senior shut Takeba up. The boy bit his lip. He didn't like strict people that much.

The darkness escaped and everything turned back to normal. Loud Rock music blasted on Minato's ears again, to his content. Well, the boy was still there. The two girls didn't seem to be paying attention the mysterious child. The kid decided to give up. He hid behind Minato and clutched his jacket tightly despite knowing that only Minato could see him.

Kirijo continued, "I didn't think you'd arrive so late. My name is Mitsuru Kirijo. I'm one of the students who lives in this dorm."

Huh, I've heard that name before, the boy thought. Apparently, Minato heard the kid's thoughts and blankly glared at him.

I can hear you, Minato thought back. The two girls conversed with each other, while Minato and the boy talked mentally.

This is too strange. First, I cannot disappear according to my will and now we seem to share our thoughts with each other . . . Do you know anything about this phenomenon?

Sorry. I'm as clueless as you are. Minato did his best to appear like he was listening to the girls. He decided to walk upstairs. The child followed reluctantly.

"Wait!" Takeba shouted, but Mitsuru Kirijo cut her off.

"Your room is at the end of the hallway of the second floor. It's not easy to forget, is it?" Minato plainly nodded. "Takeba, take him to his room." Takeba shot up as if she were in objection. Mitsuru introduced Takeba to Minato.

"I'm Yukari Takeba." Yukari had some hesitations on this boy. He was giving her a weird vibe.

"Minato Arisato. Nice to meet you."

"Same . . ." Minato stole a glance on Yukari's holster. Why did the school allow this?

Mitsuru handed Yukari the keys to the transfer's room. Yukari showed the transfer his room. The little boy had no choice but to follow.

When they reached his room, Yukari asked, "Um . . . on the way here, from the station, was everything okay?" Her voice quivered as if she already knew the answer that nothing was alright in the first place.

"Hmm?" Minato pretended that he had no clue what she was talking about.

"Uh . . . never mind. Good night."

Minato unlocked the door of his room and entered inside with the boy. At his left was a study table and mirror and at the end was a bed. The bed looked tempting to Minato's eyes. He closed the door and locked it.

"Oh wow . . . I've never seen houses of humans before . . ." muttered the boy.

"This isn't a house. It's just a room," corrected Minato.

"O-Oh!" The boy blushed as red as ripe tomatoes. "I'm not well-versed with the lives of humans, you know . . ." The boy looked down on the floor. "Uh . . . I cannot seem to use my powers as for now so . . . do you mind if I stay h-here . . .?"

The boy sniffed some of his tears back. Droplets ran down from the boy's eyes to his chin to the floor.

"What's the matter, kid?"

The boy shouted, "I have a name!"

"What is it?"

The boy's eyes widened and his pale skin flushed a baby pink color. Minato thought it was adorable. "Uh . . . mmm . . . I . . . I actually never thought of one but . . . I guess 'Pharos' would be alright . . ."

"Well—Minato extended his hand for a handshake—I'm Minato Aristo, but you already know that." Pharos shook Minato's hand hesitantly. Pharos's hand was . . . cold, yet it gave Minato a sense of security.

Pharos let go of Minato's hand and watched the midnight sky from Minato's desk.

"The moon . . . it's so glorious and bright tonight. Say, I've heard about these things. They're called 'stars.' I heard that they are like tiny freckles that give us light and they are beautiful when they are splattered all over the night sky . . . I don't see any freckles. Do you?" Pharos looked at Minato for an answer.

"No. There are no stars twinkling tonight." Minato set his bag right next to the bed. Pharos kept on glaring at the sky.

"How come?"

Minato answered, quickly, as if his answer had been practiced and recited over and over, "Human felony. Some people here are doing some bad things that prevents us from seeing the stars."

Pharos sighed with distress. "That is such a huge shame. Future generations might not be able to see the stars, if this keeps up."

Minato nodded in agreement.

"Pharos, it's been a long night. Why don't you sleep on my bed?"

Minato bit his lip and cursed at himself. It was rare for him to speak lengthily. But Pharos was just making him do what he is against. He didn't like human chatter and yet there he was—talking and talking. There was something in Pharos that Minato appreciated, but what?

"Oh! That's very kind of you . . . Minato . . . Senpai . . ." Pharos's whole body shook. This name calling was making him feel weird, but at the same time, warm. It made him joyful to call someone "Senpai."

Pharos climbed on the bed and wrapped himself with the fluffy blankets like a burrito. He felt comfort spreading across his body. He never had this human treatment before.

"Uh . . . Good night . . ."

Minato rubbed Pharos's hair and Pharos chuckled a little.

"Good night, Pharos."

Minato stood up, watched Pharos drift off to deep slumber and smiled.

Minato Arisato smiled.

AN: Well, how was it?

Please R&R. Constructive criticism would be lovely. Thanks. (I'm not a talker, am I?)