Misunderstood: the Outcast
The rain is my metaphor.
They call me an outcast.
But what do they know?
They know absolutely nothing about me.
I have a friend, an influential friend who refused to believe the lies. With him at my side, who needs their fake smiles? I won their wary respect by association; I gained my reputation through a display of skill.
I guess you could say I'm lucky.
But she is not.
She is alone.
The things they say about her is horrible. She never denies them so most think the rumors are true.
When I pass by her in the halls and she looks right through me, I can't help but wonder who is the girl behind the layers of dirt. Who is the girl with the empty doll's gaze and the permanent frown?
Who is the kaijuu?
I know her pain. It's a feeling I will never forget.
Once upon a time, the marionette with the carved smile was me.
My name is Hiiragizawa Eriol.
This is my story.