If you want the honest truth and nothing but it, Akuma was just another figure in the bustling crowd, desperately seeking her gaze -an npc if you will. A surge of jealousy welled up inside him whenever he caught sight of her sharing laughter with anyone else -including girls- and frustration gnawed at him as he watched the boys who got to partner with her in class. Alright, I may have been lying a bit with that first part. I suppose he was in a tad bit better spot than the other guys, seeing as they actually talked frequently. Even still, he was beyond hopeless. The briefest exchange with her could send him soaring with joy, as if he had just achieved a personal triumph.

Alice walked with elegant grace, her pink school bag held delicately in her hand, evoking the image of a princess with each step she took. Grades, sports and even personality. She was a model student -no, human in all categories. His footsteps must have startled her, seeing as she quickly turned to glance his way. In that instant, he’d fallen in love all over again. Time seemed to stand still as he took in her beauty. Her pink hair bounced softly with her movements, and her captivating pink eyes shimmered with kindness and compassion. Even from afar, he could see the gentle curve of her lips, and her school uniform highlighted her perfect figure. He was not one to dwell on the imperfections of skin, but even he was entranced by her porcelain skin.

He was so engrossed that he even spotted the favorite pink scarf she wore.

(Hmph. +10 points for me.) A sense of pride swelled within him for noticing such a trivial detail.

Suddenly, a gust of wind swept through, not fierce enough to knock anyone over, but strong enough to send dust particles flying. Unfortunately for him, it also nudged a bottle right under his foot, leading to an embarrassing stumble that sent him crashing to the ground with a loud thud. Though he couldn’t see her, he could feel her awkward gaze upon him, and to his dismay, he realized he hadn’t even fallen gracefully -his clumsy landing was punctuated by a ridiculous *EEK sound.

(Yep… -10 points for me.)

“Umm… Are you okay, Akuma?” she asked, her voice laced with concern.

(Please just let me die right now...)

“Y-Yep. Juuust fine,” he stammered, hastily scrambling to his feet and brushing off his uniform in a desperate attempt to reclaim some semblance of dignity.

“Y’know…” she began, a small giggle escaping her lips. “...You made this weird sound when you fell. To be honest, it was hard to hold in my laugh.”

In that moment, a piece of him withered away, and legend has it that he’s still on a quest to revive it. Within that fleeting second, it felt as though all six of his emotions convened for an urgent council meeting, deliberating the fate of his very existence.

Joy, Sadness, Anger, Fear, Disgust, and Pride, each representing Akuma's inner troubles, mirrored his appearance yet bore distinct traits that set them apart. They convened around a grand table, like the knights of the round, ready to strategize their next move. Sadness, overwhelmed by the cruel injustice of the world, buried his face in his arms on the table. Fear, hunched and fidgety and anxiously scanning the room, waiting for someone to break the silence. Disgust lounged casually, legs crossed, propped up and chair swaying slightly, exuding an air of disdain. Anger leaned forward, his head propped on one hand, rhythmically tapping the table with his other finger, a storm of fury brewing within him. Joy sat upright, an awkward grin plastered on his face as he observed the tension around the room. Finally, Pride reclined with an air of superiority, his eyes shut and a self-satisfied smirk gracing his lips, as if he were a monarch surveying his domain. Though in a way, he sort of was.

The first to break the silence was Joy, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife. He posed the question that lingered heavily in the air, a question that everyone was too afraid to voice. “So, what are we really going to do about Miss Sunshine?!”

The response was swift and sharp. “You’re all making a mountain out of a molehill! The best thing we can do is just spit in her face.” came the brash retort.

“HELL NO!!!” Joy and Anger shouted in unison, their voices echoing with indignation.

“It's over. Our lives are over. The only way out is seppuku…” Fear interjected, his voice trembling as the grim thought of death loomed over him, despite him haven suggested it.

“A-Aren’t you jumping the gun a bit there…?” Joy asked, a bead of sweat trickling down his forehead.

Anger surprisingly chimed in, “Honestly, our best option might just be to find a hole and die in it.”

“Gah- I expect that from Fear, but you too Anger?”

“G-Guys…?” Their attention turned to the timid figure of Sadness, who hesitantly raised his hand. “C-Can’t we just share a laugh with her to bond?”

“An absolute negative.” Anger denied, without a moment of hesitation.

(But I actually like that idea…) the others mused silently, their thoughts tinged with melancholy.

No longer resting his head in his hand, Anger leaned forward, his tone serious. “Just look at that smile. What do you see?”

“The sun!”

“Something that will never be ours.”

“A-A big smile I guess…”

“Mine!”

“Absolute garbage.” Disgust’s comment drew a collective glare from the group, as if they were plotting his demise in the dead of night. All except for Sadness, who returned to his forlorn embrace of the table, having offered his input.

“The point is... Do you want that to be ours or some random nobody’s?”

“L-Let’s just run away and hope we die on the road or something.”

Pride dismissed the absurd suggestion of sadness with unwavering resolve, stating, “Let’s just ignore her and walk on by. If we treat this like a big deal, we’re only setting ourselves up for failure.” The shock of his own words hung in the air, and his companions stared at him in awe, as if he had just unveiled a profound truth that had eluded them all their lives.

And so, with a face devoid of emotion, perhaps as a shield against his own embarrassment, Akuma took their shared moment of warmth and tossed it aside, striding past her as if it were just another mundane Monday. Naturally, she was taken aback by his sudden indifference, her expression betraying a restless urge to speak, yet the words remained trapped in her throat. Honestly, I don’t blame her. Who does this guy think he is!

(Oh no. Did I upset him by saying that?) she thought, her voice faltering as she attempted to call out, “Akuma-” but her plea was abruptly silenced by the rumble of a truck-like exhaust that filled the air. Their yellow Uber had arrived, eager to whisk them away to their next destination. It halted right in front of them, its double doors swinging open in an inviting gesture. While an ordinary person might view it as just a yellow bus ready to transport students, Akuma perceived it as Cerberus, the mythical guardian, lowering its back to usher them into the depths of the underworld. A chill of anxiety trickled down his spine as the aura alone pulsed through him.

Having no real friends on the bus -none at all actually- he opted for the back seat, a place that felt like home. Since stepping into high school, he found solace only in the rear of the bus. In his mind, those who sat in the middle were decent enough, but the front seats? Those were reserved for serial killers, or perhaps people in illegal substances. Maybe even both.

It might be of importance to note Alice, as usual, settled into the seat right in front of him.

So far, Akuma's day had unfolded like any other, a tapestry of the mundane woven into the fabric of ordinary life. The only peculiarities were the frequent sightings of “Michael” and “Church” that seemed to pop up throughout his day. He recalled passing a house plastered with “Michael” signs and spotting a “Church Monday” poster as they cruised by on the bus. Who even goes to church on a Monday? WHO?! It was baffling.

But as he often reminded himself, different folks, different strokes.

Chalking up the Michael and Church encounters as mere figments of his imagination or coincidental quirks, he continued on with his perfectly mundane existence. Before he knew it, the day had nearly slipped away, the final bell ringing to signal the end of school. Dismissal meant the children could finally head home, and while the day had been productive, there were still many tasks left unfinished before he could deem his mission a success: the job wouldn’t be complete until Friday arrived.

Like a cog in the machine, he fell into the same routine, returning to the same prison for the remainder of the week. This was nothing new as an 11th grader, simply the way of life, a cycle of predictable events. However, there was one exception. In the midst of class, seated at the back by the window, he gazed outside, a wave of melancholy washing over him as he contemplated his monotonous existence. It was then that he noticed a cloud shaped oddly enough to spell out “Michael.” It sent a shiver down his spine. The strange occurrences of “Michael” and “Church” that he had previously dismissed as coincidences persisted throughout the week. How could a dream linger and haunt him even four days later? It was an understatement to say it was driving him to the brink of insanity.

It was in the middle of class, where he sat in the back next to a window. He stared out, a feeling of melancholy tinging his heart from the mundane existence. During which, he spotted a peculiar shaped cloud that read “Michael”. It’s no surprise that it creeped him out a bit. And it didn’t just end there. The sightings of “Michael” and “church” that he chalked up as coincidences went on for the whole week. How can a dream affect someone even four days after occurring? It’s an understatement to say it was driving him mad.

At this point, he gave in. It was time to go to church.