#1, When the Butterflies Scream in September

Primrose Avery is a transfer student who suddenly barged into my home school, South High School, during the start of the second semester. Note that it was my final year of being a high school student and she transferred to my class only to mean that she's in her final year too─leading to a weird time of the year that heavily regards her as a "mysterious transfer student" as emphasized with quotations.

A person who follows a certain popular trope.

A trope, in fact, cliched if we were instructed to base it on pop culture.

For this supposed person named after a flower to buck this trend, she sure was a person worth telling the story of─the ephemeral newcomer.

I know, having transfer students is a fairly common occurrence.

And it's nothing like vampires who always bring bad omen─and sourcing the light novels I've adored doesn't count as reliable at all. Like how Haruhi Suzumiya would gleam at the thought in itself, but fails to prove her point otherwise because of common sense. I think as I delve further down, I'd have to cast a shadow over their potential as instigators to a rather eventful progression.

Yeah, I wouldn't recommend an active pursuit of transfer students to write your story.

It only happens that this personal case is aligned with works of fiction.

My encounter with Primrose took its powerful shift to hell and back, and I'm not even letting it be undermined as being bitten by a vampire. No, it wasn't a shocking meeting for sure, I already expected she had something in her─and I could only be nonchalant. Nonetheless, I must have been cursed. It actually seems extremely irresponsible to talk about my bad luck here. Maybe I should just be upfront and say that it was my fault. In the end, I think it was a chain of events only made possible because I was me.

Harmless was it to someone else, harmful it was to us.

Encounter: Primrose Avery, 17 | Status: Asleep

Vanessa atalanta

"Liberator concerns Primrose as a mysterious transfer student."

That day, during the 10th of September, our tragedy began─and dumb as I am to present the misfortune I could have averted, it's how I met my fate with the butterflies.

"Liberate the world from extinction"

Progress: 4/???

Painstakingly so for the fifth time.

Bells tolled from afar, and the tick from the Grandfather clock resonated from the walls. I must have been daydreaming as I was seeing the open skies. I hung in suspension─tiptoeing yet unable to fall down.

A flock of butterflies flew─there were six trillion and one of them.

You can't breathe in the stratosphere.

"Obviously," said someone from behind, already indignant for her overture.

Should I have looked to where she stood, I'd catch a rather disappointed look. Lips smiling yet inexplicably distraught over what makes the daydreamer spit an obvious state of nature. Picture the scene: I was chewing on a toast when the imagination was cut abrupt.

Someone must have hacked my brain for a minute or half.

I continued to munch on the piece of bread, sighing at how imperative the novel falls down into the antagonistic domain.

Thump, thump, thump! Her light foot, yet silent, still resonated with the floorboards. She must have been rushing, the rustling of her hair spoke of her sporting a ponytail. Her hair tie gently slapped to put all the strands together─and yet there was a hint of force.

"Mika, please stop that already," she scolded vocally, and I would be damned not to see her furrowed eyebrows. "Your mind's too loud!"

"Mmkay," I uttered.

"Liberation System alert: ally detected."

Thrall: Kirsch Salazar, 16 | Status: Awakened

Pachliopta kotzebuea

"Kirsch is the Liberator's little sister and has a regenerative healing factor. System error, overloading power signatures. Status updated: Aberrant."

My little sister has walked downstairs in her school uniform.

I'd rather not have this soulless system's heads-up display displaying her as a hostile

As always, the radiance in her shifted what agnostic approach to life I was indulging with that morning. Our household's ray of sunshine, and the beacon I've dedicated my life with for as long as I live. When everything seems like they'll fall down, I always think of her.

"Ha-ha, I don't think that highly of myself but okay," she said as she sat down─hectic to spread maple syrup over her toast. "I wish you could have woken me up earlier."

"My bad," I deadpanned, "You could have woken yourself earlier."

Next comes the obvious reaction: Kris, the prickly little sister, questioned whether or not I was being truthful, "Are you sure I'm the beacon of light you've dedicated your life to, Mika?"

Rude to assume I didn't give it a thought, but for sure, For ease, everyone calls her Kris. My name's Mikhail─but all my life, I've always been Mika.

"Mika…You're thinking too loud," Kris said, her voice laced with a mix of amusement and discomfort. "I'm flattered you think of me that way but, y'know, it's a little awkward."

I never realized my thoughts could be so loud, so tangible, that she would notice. It's somewhat endearing, yet utterly embarrassing. How often does she hear the unspoken words swirling in my head?

Hm, weird, Kirsch wasn't dropping her exasperation at all.

"Well, I know you have your issues and all, but relax, okay?" Kris tried to soothe, although her eyes betrayed a hint of concern.

Relaxing was a luxury I could seldom afford. My mind was a tumultuous sea, ever agitated by the whispering winds of worry and doubt. How does one silence the storm within, especially when every lull seems like the calm before yet another tempest?

"Yeah, actually, never mind that," And so, I cut. "Your hair's sticking out."

"Please fix it for me," Kris cried, her voice a blend of a plea and command.

Since the idleness became a little tiresome, there was no harm in humoring my little sister.

After standing up and grabbing the hairbrush off the table, I brushed her hair─without any act of defiance. Her bedhead was a bit unruly, so I took my time fixing it.

I looked down, seeing the breakfast she prepared─and wryness entwined to the spirit of cliche. 

"Maple syrup…" Worth the sigh, I only realized what implication it imposed to our regular breakfast. "Don't tell me you're going to eat that along the way."

"Yeah?" Kris replied, a cheeky defiance in her voice. "It's not like I'd come across a guy or someone."

"That's one way for some guy to invoke their death wish."

"Pfft, aren't you just the most protective brother?" Kris teased, a glint of appreciation in her eyes.

"No, just a copy of a copy," I said, cutting through her false appreciation.

It wouldn't be any use if I intervened with her encounters and whatnot.

Late for school, turning into the corner, and stumbling onto someone who'd rock the suspension bridge. I'd be more surprised if it happened. Although, I suppose it's not evil to persecute anyone who'd prance into my little sister's mind and heart.

"And of a copy. Mika…" Kris let a poignant sigh escape, finishing the sentence I didn't mean to invoke. Yet, it seems fitting to the true nature of life.

We're all just reflections of reflections, aren't we?

Yet, with you though, it feels a little more different hence the second degree.

We stared at each other, I'd looked down from the higher vantage point and her hair no longer has loose strands.

"No time for a staring contest, I'll be going now."

As calmly as she stated, my little sister walked. Munching on her breakfast as fast as banishing the persistent thought of fiction actualized. I suppose it's a win—the bread spread of maple syrup can no longer function as its dreadful plot device.

"Ah, Mika, I forgot my phone." While frantic Kris made it out to be, her expression countered her tone. As her head tilted upwards, our eyes met, awkwardness overlaid the smirk. "Please?"

Kirsch Salazar was no whirl when it came to readying herself, yet she's been badly inconsistent.

From smirk to a frown, alright, yeah, I get it—nothing blossoms from thinking through and through.

Time doesn't stop in motion, and the moments pass without its true meaning realized. I'd digress, but I'd not do so once in a while. I glanced over where her phone was—and stretched my right hand out. Her phone lifted from the cluttered counter, gliding softly along the wind.

How dead were her eyes as our eyes met, one can only ponder over how vast the universe is.

And—she caught her flying phone. Mm-hmm, good job, just as I'd expect from an athlete.

"Lazybones."

And I received another eyeful, yet the bickering no longer mattered.

Her phone in grasp, she was set to take off.

"Thank you, Mika!" Kris broke her frown and expressed her gratitude instead. "Say, are you going to be fine on your own?"

I sighed in spite of her remark.

"How cute, you're actually worried."

"Mrrgh, of course, I'm worried. You haven't been yourself since yesterday afternoon!"

I…

I didn't speak anymore.

"You either speak too much or speak too little…So then, I'll be going first. Make sure you go to school, okay?"

And suddenly, she blurred our roles as siblings acting as if she was the older one. I can't blame her otherwise, I'd really haven't been myself since I came home yesterday. Dashing with her glorious morning energy, my effervescent little sister finally began her day.

"Well, I don't run away from misfortune," I murmured, "I only handle them differently."

School resumed yesterday─and I hate it more than anything else.

It's the 10th of September and classes do resume after a semester break. It's something that I wanted to forget but whatever, it's not like school is not enjoyable anyway.

In many ways, it was─but in many ways, it also was not.

This kind of paradox exists in every student of the country and of course, the whole world.

As I went out of the doorstep too: I was already enslaved to the capitalism imposed by the Grid's avaricious education system. If I fail to attend a class, I'd be more embroiled in a painstaking situation than the seething misfortune of the life I lead. Well, as the man who has the hands of a potential aggressor, there's only six trillion and one ways for harm to march in like a lion.

Crimson in paint, ardently majestic, dazzling with translucent illumination, blurring eyesight from time to time.

"Well, I just hope nothing bad happens."

"Liberation System alert: threat detected, Level 51."

Encounter: Primrose Avery, 17 | Status: Asleep

Vanessa Atalanta

"Liberator refuses to awaken this subject. Period since first encounter: 1 day ago."

And─the falling star did its utmost to turn back to space as soon as I uttered those words.

"Mika, wait!" My name was called out loud, atrophied albeit brimming in liveliness.

I walked on the paved path, out in the open, utterly and completely defenseless.

Unsuspecting anyone's attention when I have been routinely walking to school alone.

I stopped, the tiptoe braced to turn around, lips to curve as though the menace had come to realize he's cornered. Smirking in the face of danger─the butterflies squirmed at the back. Closing in little by little, each centimeter intensifying by the breadth.

"Mika! So you're running early today too, huh?" She said as she smirked. "I wouldn't be too lenient if I were the problem child."

"That isn't a question I'd like to hear at the start of the semester," I answered─slightly regretful now that I'd be embroiled. "Yeah, a problem child is a problem child so I should be more problematic."

Holy, we were actually talking to each other like we were childhood friends.

Our fabled newcomer, our wayward Primrose Avery, has now stepped into the spotlight.