But the more beautiful the dream was, the more the vast gap between it and reality made the boy feel restless.
In class, he was just an unremarkable student.
He was introverted, even a little wooden.
He got along all right with everyone.
But he didn't have a single particularly close friend.
He was always by himself, and he was always ignored.
He had already gotten used to living that way.
But the dream had quickly gotten him used to a different life.
He began to feel that something was wrong.
Wrong, wrong.
Everything was wrong!
How could they talk to him so loudly?
How could they bump his desk?
How could they knock his books off?
How could they make him sweep the floor?
How could they ignore him?!
His dissatisfaction had been building day by day.
It finally erupted yesterday.
How dare that person curse at him?!
Who was he?
What right did that person have?
He had swung his fist.
Today at school was no different.
Perhaps the only difference between one outburst and countless outbursts was that there had only been one so far.
As he passed the athletic field, a basketball came flying at him and hit him in the head.
His vision spun for a moment, then pain spread through his skull.
He clutched his head. He wasn't sure if his ears were ringing, but he thought he really heard the whoosh of flames igniting.
He clenched his other hand, hanging at his side.
"Hey, are you okay?"
"What the hell? We told you to stop just now. Didn't you hear us? You kept walking and got hit by the ball, didn't you?"
"You brought this on yourse—"
His fist cut off the rest of the words.
He got into