"Ahh!" The girl shouted in response as she was about to plummet towards the lower flower when George grabbed her hand out of reflex.

The books she was holding fell to the bottom of the stairs.

She looked extremely angry, but when they both made eye contact, her expression turned from angry to shock and surprise. She instantly looked away, her cheeks slightly red from embarrassment.

George quickly picked them up and said, "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to..."

The girl looked up and said, "It's okay," before giving a slight smile.

George gladly accepted, and the two of them proceeded toward the faculty room. As they entered, their teacher was already present and brought George to his classroom.

As the teacher opened the classroom door, George followed right behind her. She announced the new transfer student and thus began George's introduction.

He scribbled his name on the board with lightning speed and introduced himself, "George Serizawa. 16. No talents." His brows furrowed as he forced a stiff smile and said, "Nice to meet you," before he bowed slightly.

The class was silent for a few moments before he heard a few laughs from the back of the classroom.

That's when he saw someone raise her hand to ask a question - the girl from the stairs. She smiled kindly towards him, and he nodded back in return.

"How many girlfriends have you had? And where do you live?" The girl asked.

George was slightly taken aback, but he laughed it off, saying with an amused expression, "I'm still single. I haven't had any girlfriends yet. As for where I live, that's a secret."

Deep inside, George clenched his imaginary fists. His mind screamed, "How could I have any girlfriend when I can't even have a friend."

George felt the rage boil inside of him as he reminisced about his oppressive childhood. His parents had been tyrants, trapping him in his own home and frightening away any friends with their cruel words and menacing glares. He remembered how the fear coursed down his classmates' veins when his mother threatened them for even trying to invite him over.

When he reached junior high school, his parents viciously rebuked every idea of attending anything unrelated to his studies, inventing excuses with a bitterness that scoured his heart like acid. "My son's studying too hard," or "He has to take care of the house" – their words felt like nails being hammered into his dreams.

Every time he attempted to fight back, his mom's guilt-tripping words would sting him like a hundred arrows, shooting him down like a shooting star from the sky. Her words were like a crashing wave, smothering any defiant murmurings he had and leaving him completely powerless. He was a puppet in her hands, unable to do anything but obey her orders.

All George ever wanted was to be able to make his own choices and have the freedom he deserved, but ever since then, it seemed like that dream was out of reach. It was the reason he felt that death was the only thing that would free him from his parents' shackles.

Suddenly, George heard a voice calling him back into reality; it was the girl talking again:

"-hey, are you listening?"

He snapped out of his thoughts and gave her a slight nod in reply.

"Yeah, I was," he said with a small smile. "So what were you asking again?"

"Are your parents from overseas?" She replied.

George smiled wistfully and shook his head. "No, they're from here," he said softly. "I think that's all the questions for now, so can we move on?"

The teacher suddenly clapped to get the class's attention, "Alright, we're already a few minutes late. Let's begin the class. And, George, choose one of the chairs in the back."

George nodded and made his way to one of the empty chairs in the back near the window, feeling a sense of relief wash over him. He had finally escaped from the awkward interrogation.

He sat quietly throughout the class, just letting his mind wander while the teacher lectured.

The last thing he remembered before the class ended was a sense of freedom that filled him up with hope, something that he had been missing all this time.

He exited the building and was about to exit the campus when a group of girls he didn't recognize approached him.

"You're George from Class 12-B, right?"

"Uhh- Yeah?"

"We just wanted to know if you'd like to hang out with us after this. We were talking about going to the karaoke just now. Do you want to come?"

George was taken aback by their invitation, not expecting this kind of attention for himself.

"Sorry, I have to study for an exam," he quickly said. It was his go-to answer for invitations. This was the only time where his exact same answer for years and years was false.

The group of girls said their goodbyes with disappointment clearly visible on their faces. George watched them go before he could even fully process what had happened.

In the end, George decided to walk towards his home. His home was quite far; calling it within walking distance felt like a joke, but then again, Baal was a demon. He could fly and travel faster.

He looked around to see if there were people nearby. He wanted to run at full speed, but he was afraid a person might recognize him. His maximum running speed was much faster than humans and was comparable to a typical car on residential roads.

"Nobody's nearby...!"

He ran through the streets, his feet barely touching the ground as his body moved with a furious speed. Sparks of electricity shot through his veins, pushing him faster and faster as he jumped and weaved around any obstacles blocking his way.

When George reached his house, he felt incredibly refreshed and alive-- it was the best feeling ever!

"There's still a few hours before I have to go on a patrol... but I don't have anything to do..."

He went through his options, did some stretches, and eventually decided to sleep.
George went up to his room, changed into more comfortable clothes, and lay down to sleep until evening.